Nine Layers of Sky Read Online Free PDF Page A

examined the ball. It seemed quite solid. Experimentally, she let it drop. It did not bounce, but dropped to the concrete floor of the outhouse with a resounding
thud
and lay still. Elena picked it up and saw with alarm that a crack had appeared in the concrete. The delicate, curved surface of the sphere was unmarked, but the thing felt warmer, as if energized by its momentary flight. Elena could make no sense of it. She hoped the warmth and the heaviness were not indicators of something sinister, something radioactive. But the sphere was too smooth to be a fragment of waste, too much as though it had been made, and she could think of no analogous component of a nuclear system.
    Returning it to her pocket, she went back into the chaos of the house.
    The next morning, Elena awoke with a head like a block of wood and a mouth that tasted as though mice had been nesting in it. She blinked, trying to work out where she was. A damp-mottled square of ceiling was illuminated by the brightness of snowlight, but the room was stiflingly hot. She could smell woodsmoke, the burnt, meaty odor of mutton shashlik, and stale wine. Craning her head, she looked down. A half-empty glass rested on the floor, inches from her face. Elena closed her eyes in fleeting pain. Across the room, two bodies stretched like beached whales beneath faded counterpanes: Gulnara and someone else, probably a cousin.
    Cautiously, Elena sat up. Her head pounded with the rhythmic tempo of a thunderstorm. She winced as someone pulled aside the curtain that hid the entrance and light flooded in. One of Atyrom’s relations entered: a girl, wearing a long
shalwar kameez
and carrying a tea tray. Elena greeted her with relief. She cupped the glass that the girl handed her and took a sip of strong, sweet tea.
    “You’ve saved my life.”
    The girl smiled and bobbed her head. “There’s more if you want it. From the look of you, you’ll need it,” she added tartly.
    Half an hour later, fueled by tea and bread, Elena had reached a state that almost approached normality; only a nagging headache remained. Passing the open door of the adjoining room, she saw that Atyrom had also woken up, and now sat on the edge of the bed in his thermals, rubbing his head with his hands. He was back to his usual grumpy self, Elena was pleased to see. Atyrom drunk and cheerful (and singing) was a spectacle that she preferred to forget.
    “Morning,” Elena said. “Someone phoned for you, apparently. Left a message. I think it’s about the clothes and the videos.”
    Atyrom grunted. “About time. I tried calling my friend for half of last night, but he wasn’t in, the bastard. Never mind. Did he say when he was coming?”
    “He said something about ten o’clock,” Elena said, adding with a piousness not her own,
“Imsh’Allah.”
    “Imsh’Allah,”
Atyrom echoed. He scratched moodily at one ankle, then began pulling on his socks. “Let me do the talking, all right? I know you brought the clothes, but I’ve done this before. I know about this sort of thing; I know what my friend’s like. He won’t want a woman butting in.”
    “All right,” Elena said patiently, knowing better than to argue. This was Atyrom’s home territory, after all. Anyway, she needed to buy cigarettes. “I’m going to find a kiosk,” she said. “I won’t be long.”
    “All right. I’ll see you later.”
    Elena retrieved her coat from the back of the door and stepped outside. It was a beautiful day. The high, pale heavens reflected the snow, shimmering into a fierce blue at the summit of the sky. A starling rocketed across the street and into a tree, sending a shower of icicles from the branches. The day after tomorrow would be March first, Elena remembered—almost spring. She stuck her hands into her pockets and her gloved fingers met something hard. She pulled out the little ball, turning it over in her fingers. After a moment she wrapped it in a handkerchief and put it into her handbag, then