The Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia

The Bruising of Qilwa by Naseem Jamnia

Author:Naseem Jamnia [Jamnia, Naseem]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Historical, Lgbtq+, General
ISBN: 9781616963798
Google: 78uZzgEACAAJ
Amazon: 1616963786
Publisher: Tachyon Publications
Published: 2022-08-09T07:00:00+00:00


A mere week after the disastrous visit to the governor’s office, a few dozen migrants arrived at Qilwa’s shores, claiming to be the last group of Sassanians left in Dilmun. A shuffle ensued: the Underdock, ever bloated, spilled into the nearby shore at the edge of the long-established quarry, which provided many Sassanians their meager-paying jobs and most wealthy Qilwans their building materials. But the arrival of the newcomers demanded a citizen demonstration, despite the need for bodies to mine rock or work the limited farms, and as Firuz bandaged those who’d been caught amid the protest, their mind wandered. The last group of Sassanians, as though whatever hunting them had completed its task. The migrants who came through the clinic, new and established alike, vibrated with this possibility, their anxious whispers dismayed at the Dilmuni queen’s inaction, wondering whether the whole thing had been orchestrated by her new government.

Firuz didn’t have time to ruminate. The influx of people and almost-riot were on top of rising incidence of the blood-bruising, which was either highly contagious or its creator highly active. As before, Firuz spent many nights in the clinic, not so much for waiting patients but because it became easier than going home. That, and it was the only time where Firuz and Kofi could discuss business. Staying at the clinic also helped Firuz cut back on food; if they were home, their family would undoubtedly have noticed they were trying to stretch each meal, in case Kofi could no longer pay their scant salary.

Two weeks after the migrants arrived, Afsoneh ambushed Firuz as the day was winding down. Her training had taken less priority recently, and it was only after clinic hours, when Firuz was alone, that she could grab some time with them.

The two spent the early evening going over what she’d been reading, practicing the techniques described in the book. Squinting at the page, eyes aching, Firuz rose to light a candle and realized how late it was. “We should go home,” they said. Afsoneh yawned. “Yes, precisely. C’mon, grab your things.”

Afsoneh faked shock. “You’re actually coming home tonight? Have you been avoiding us, Rooz?”

The nickname made their chest ache. “No, Afsoneh-jan.” Firuz kissed the top of her hair. It had grown in soft curls past her shoulders, the color tinged reddish from the sun. Only Parviz used to warrant such natural affection. “It’s been easier to stay here, with all this work. Yes, I’ll come home tonight.”

After locking up, the two trudged down the darkened street. Despite the cottage sitting above the Underdock, getting home still required walking through the place Firuz and their family had once lived. Firuz hated it. No matter how many patients they treated, walking through the slums reminded them of all the people they’d left behind.

Though it wasn’t too late, darkness usually urged people off the streets. In the early days, the Underdock had teemed with crowds at all hours. The encampments had given way to run-down shacks, and aside from the recent hullabaloo, the area had established an uneasy peace with the rest of the city.



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