The Bruising of Qilwa

by Naseem Jamnia

“I do have one bit of good news. One of Kofi’s old university friends gave us a bunch of books. One of them has a whole chapter on alignments.” Parviz’s entire face changed: the tired sag of his eyes widened, his thick brows lifted, his lips parted. “Really?” “I’ll get to work on the spell as soon as I can.” Firuz nodded to the binding vest hanging on the side of the bed, a hand-me-down from before their own alignment. They’d kept it out of a weird sense of nostalgia, and their brother had requested it before they’d all left Dilmun. “Then you won’t have to wear that anymore. Although we can start on the ointment sooner rather than later; that shouldn’t be too complicated to make. We’ll have to fiddle with the dose to get your facial hair not to grow in patchy.” Parviz did have a light sweeping of hair already along his lips and chin and cheeks, and though the strands were dark, the softness countered a starker appearance. “I might be able to make a distillate, too, to deepen your voice.” Parviz pressed himself into his sibling’s shirt. He probably thought it hid the tremors of his shoulders. Firuz rubbed his back. “Thanks, Rooz.”

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