Soqtani nodded, and looked out across the steppe.
“You should fi nd a husband and lay with him. If you are with child, you will know
not to vanish when you are struck. And a child can teach you who we are.”
She told the story of the White Wolf Mother, oldest of the pack, who fought the
mighty bull and dragged its body to the cave, and there fought any pack member that
tried to eat before the pups had had their fi ll. This story pleased the djinn, who stood
and stretched.
“I will fi nd a husband,” it said.
- “Many, many years,” said the djinn. They sat in their usual spot, watching stems
of grass and the shadows they cast upon each other. The djinn’s bones creaked. It
should not have needed to creak them, but all the same they creaked as it turned
towards Soqtani.
“I have three children. The youngest is no older than I was. They are only half-
djinn, but when they are willing, they can leave their bodies like the man-kin leave
their homes. For a gifted second they can travel as the djinn do and work wonderful
things with fi re and smoke. But the second ends and they are dragged back into their
bodies. They fi nd it pleasing, but it makes me feel uneasy. I often fi nd myself wanting
to ride on the wind again.”
Soqtani looked at her wrinkled hands. The pockmark scars were barely visible now.
“And after all this time,” she said. “Have you learned what it means to be a man-kin?”
The djinn fi dgeted, and her eyes grew wet.
“Whenever I think I have it, it gets away. I feel I have gathered to my chest a great
many things whose worth I cannot fathom. With my children I feel it the most, and it
makes me glad, but also fearful.”
“To know the value of a man-
kin life,” said the girl, “you will
have to give those things up.”
Then she told her own story.
How she had waited by the cairn
year after year. How she had wanted desperately to help her father walk down to the
paddocks, and throw furs over her mother as she slept in her chair. How she had wept
bitterly throughout the lonely nights knowing they were out of reach.
The djinn was silent for a time.
“It seems that my wish was foolish after all. If I had listened to you sooner, I might
have lived better.”
Soqtani wiped her eyes. “Will you then grant my own wish, now?”
“Speak it.”
“Let me take back my name, and go to my village.”
The djinn nodded and smiled sadly. And it was gone.
Soqtani slid her hands down to her knees and pushed herself up. She looked across
the grassy space that separated her from her village.
She smiled a wide smile, and shuffl ed down the hill.