The Orphan Sky Read Online Free PDF Page A

parents’ pride, while my flesh-and-blood is nothing but a gossipy thorn?”
    â€œGossipy” was exactly why I needed to see Almaz. As Aunty Zeinab liked to say, “Before a rooster started his crow in the faraway Khizi Mountains, Almaz already knows how many eggs his hens have laid.”
    Almaz and I grew up inseparable, sharing our secrets and dreams. We learned to swim in the Caspian Sea and to climb Besh Barmag, the sacred Five Finger Mountain. A pair of jorabs , multicolored socks, everyone called us.
    And then she changed. Overnight. Changed so drastically that I thought a wicked dervish had stolen the best friend of my childhood and replaced her with a vain, empty-headed double. Our paths diverged. While I divided my passion and time between my Komsomol responsibilities and my music, Almaz sweltered in the Turkish baths, gathering gossip. She even became bored with studies and dropped out of school after the eighth grade. Mama came to help, enrolling her in a prestigious nursing program that would provide her with useful skills.
    Maybe the change was the result of Almaz’s bad birth. She suffered from epilepsy. Twice I witnessed her shaking as violently as if possessed by witchcraft. Mama even taught me how to prevent her from choking during the convulsions.
    I moved the kilim aside. “Can I come in?”
    Inside, the air was humid, the floor wet. Almaz sat astride a towel on the kitchen table, painting her toenails cherry-red, her long, damp hair spilling over her bronzed back and bare breasts. She had nothing on but a pair of black panties trimmed with red lace. A henna snake coiled around her leg all the way to the knee.
    â€œHow was your date?” she asked without lifting her head.
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œThe whole town knows.” She paused and scratched her temple with the tip of a red thumbnail. “A match made in Communist heaven. Comrade Leila and Comrade Aži Dahaka .”
    Aži Dahaka —a mythical serpent-dragon that spits out fire—was a nickname Almaz gave to Farhad after she heard him speak at a Komsomol rally.
    She was jealous. I would be too if I was in her place. Six months ago, Aunty Zeinab surprised all of us when she betrothed Almaz to Chingiz from the third floor, a beanpole with gold teeth, an unevenly shaved pea-sized head, and lethargic cow eyes. He loitered around the neighborhood, the sleeves of his nylon shirt rolled up high, trying to look like a diligent laborer. In truth, he hadn’t worked a single day in his entire twenty-five years and lived shamelessly off his childless uncle, Ali Khan. Like a flatworm.
    â€œI need to ask you a question,” I said.
    â€œWait.” Almaz blew on her toes. “What is it?”
    â€œHave you heard anything about the new shop near Maiden Tower with the green door and—”
    Like an iguana, she slid off the table, scurried toward me, and sealed my mouth with her hand, the beads on her bracelet pressing hard against my cheek. “Where have you been? The whole city has been talking about it. It’s a music shop . But not for real. The owner is an offspring of the Immortal.”
    â€œThe Immortal?” My heart dropped.
    â€œYes, can you believe it? And just like her, he is a wicked sorcerer. He sells poisonous music records from the black market.” Almaz’s eyes glistened darkly, her voice lowered to a whisper. “If you listen to his music, your skin will turn into fish scales.”
    â€¢ • •
    Clusters of dirty clouds raced across the starless sky like a pack of hounds loosed from their chains. I counted the steps; only sixty-three to go along the narrow balcony and then up the stairs to our apartment on the fourth floor. But there was definitely someone following me.
    The Immortal?
    I glanced back. Nothing except my shadow trailing behind. Was it fear that made me feel as if my shadow was improvising? Stepping on my feet, trotting ahead of