She knew instinctively that it was the
queens-and-knights-and-sorceresses kind of court, not a court of law. It
would be like Camelot. Just saying the words brought up an aching
nostalgia, and—not memories, but the tip-of-the-tongue feeling that
memories were locked right behind a door. It was a door, however, that
was securely locked, and all Elena could see through the keyhole were
ranks of more women like the Guardians, tall, golden-haired, and
blue-eyed, and one—child-sized among the grown women—who
glanced up, and, piercingly, from a long way off, met Elena’s gaze
directly.
The litter was moving out of the bazaar into more slums, which
Elena took in with darting quick glances on either side of her, hiding in
her veil. They seemed like any earthly slums, barrios, or favella—only
worse. Children, their hair turned red by the sun, crowded around
Elena’s litter, their hands held out in a gesture with universal meaning.
Elena felt a tearing at her insides that she had nothing of real value
to give them. She wanted to build houses here, make sure these children
had food and clean water, and education, and a future to look forward to.
Since she had no idea how to give them any of these things, she watched
them dash off with treasures such as her Juicy Fruit gum, her comb, her