Read Lilah for Free Online Page B

aniseed, cardamom and oregano hung from the ceiling beside pieces of mutton and dried fish, which swayed in the heat from the brick oven. Two feet high and shaped like a water tank, the oven stood in the middle of the room. Inside it, right at the bottom, a thick layer of embers glowed between big stones, on which stood a pitcher of boiling water. A cleverly angled opening in theroof let out the smoke without allowing rainwater into the room.
    No sooner had Lilah entered than she asked if the dough for the biscuits was ready. Sogdiam threw her a look, wiped his wet hands on his tunic, then lifted a cloth from the kneading board. Five round balls rested on it.
    Lilah pressed one with a finger. The dough sank, soft but firm, and resumed its shape when she released the pressure.
    â€˜I made them early this morning,’ Sogdiam said, resuming his task. ‘We had some flour left over from last week.’
    â€˜So now we just have to bake them, if the oven is hot enough.’
    Sogdiam thought of replying that he had kept up the fire since dawn for that very purpose. All Lilah had to do was place her hand against the bricks to discover that he had spoken the truth when he claimed to know the day on which she would come. Now he judged it wiser to keep silent.
    What was the point? Lilah never noticed his efforts. With the back of his wrist, he rubbed his eyes, which were smarting more from the injustice than the heat of the oven.
    Unafraid to soil her beautiful tunic, Lilah picked up one of the balls of dough, flattened it between her palms and then, with a gentle, regular movement,rolled it between her hands until it was a thin, soft disc. She leaned against the oven and, with the skill of habit, bent double, plunged her face into the heat and stuck the disc to the inner wall. It sizzled. She stepped back, straightened, pushed a lock of hair off her brow, then seized another ball of dough. ‘While I’m making the biscuits, Sogdiam,’ she said, ‘heat a pitcher of water with mint leaves and the green part of the onions I brought. Make sure you cut them very small first. And pour a jug of milk for Master Baruch.’
    Sogdiam obeyed without a word.
    For a while they busied themselves in silence. The space was so narrow that they constantly brushed against each other, almost colliding as Sogdiam placed the herbs in the pitcher of hot water at the bottom of the oven.
    No sooner had Lilah, her cheeks and brow reddened by the fire, stuck the last disc of dough into the oven than she wiped her hands, lifted the lids off the baskets, and made a face. She was surprised to find nothing there but the bags Axatria had prepared that morning.
    She stood up abruptly, knocking Sogdiam’s arm as he was pouring goat’s milk from a big gourd into a double-handled pitcher. The gourd fell from his hands, the pitcher overturned and milk spattered the vegetables and the wall beside the draining table.Sogdiam caught the pot before it rolled off the table to smash on the floor, then let out a torrent of oaths in the dialect of the lower town.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Sogdiam,’ Lilah cried. ‘It’s my fault.’
    â€˜Yes, it is!’ Sogdiam exploded, pushing the cork back into the gourd with his fist. ‘You said it – it’s your fault! Ever since you came into this kitchen you’ve been treating me as if I wasn’t here. Your eyes are open, but you don’t see me any more than if I were a spirit from the underworld.’
    â€˜Sogdiam!’
    â€˜Sogdiam, do this! Sogdiam, do that! Sogdiam got up at dawn to make everything ready. Sogdiam isn’t lying when he says he waits for you. All you have to do is put the biscuits in the oven. Everything has been cleaned and put away. You can lift every lid in this room! You don’t have Axatria to help you today, so I’m helping you instead. But if Sogdiam wants you to say thank you, he’s got a long wait.’
    â€˜So, now