The Third Scroll

by Dana Marton

  The days at Maiden Hall had neither beginning nor end, for sleep passed in the blink of an eye. I slept as soon as my worn body touched my pallet; then I heard the door bang open, and I pulled awake again as if no time had passed at all.

  Little by little, I grew familiar with the other girls and the ways of the House of Tahar. I learned that only the sons of warriors could be warriors; the children of servants would always remain slaves, although the girls became maidens for a short time.

  Daughters of warriors were given as concubines to other warriors either at their Lord’s House or at another’s. Anyone could take a servant girl, but the taking of a maiden was punishable by death, as was all disobedience. Some of the Great Houses had different laws, but Tahar kept with the old ways.

  I made friends with as many of the maidens as would let me, and was glad never to be chosen for chores in Pleasure Hall, for I heard many tales about the cruelty of concubines.

  The hatred of some of the maidens was enough, indeed almost more than I could bear, for I gave them no reason to treat me so. But a few, seeing Kumra’s obvious dislike of me, sought to gain her favor by doing whatever they could to torture me. One had gone as far as dropping a small cauldron of boiling water on me to see how fast I could heal myself. I howled with the pain of the welts that covered both arms to the tip of my fingers.

  The following morning, as Kumra sent us to do our chores, her gaze landed on my hands.

  Her lips flattened into a severe line. “What have you done?”

  “An accident, my Lady. I beg your pardon for it.” I hoped she would allow me a day of rest so I could think of a poultice that could be made from the meager things available to me.

  “You useless, clumsy murna,” she yelled, and other offensive names followed. Then she suddenly calmed, which scared me more than the yelling. A cold gleam came into her eyes. “You will be assigned to the wash today. See that you make fine work of it.”

  I bowed, not wanting to anger her further by showing any emotion. A hard day that turned out to be. The hot water and lye like thousands of sharp talons and teeth attacked my injured flesh. I fainted twice with the pain of it but dared not to leave any of the work undone.

  These things happened and worse, and I learned to keep out of Kumra’s way. I did nothing to bring myself to her attention and tried my best to do my work as well as I could to give her no excuse for punishment, not that she needed a reason.

  The spirits watched over me, for no illness came to the House that would have required any true powers. The few cases of sour stomachs were righted easily with steamed borlan, and the various cuts and sores needed only cleaning and bandaging. Thus my lack of true worth remained undiscovered as the days passed, each colder yet than the one before.

  The work remained hard, the food scarce, and my heart shivered within my body, for I could never get warm enough. I tied rags around my feet and stuffed them with dry grass for added protection. To keep the chill from the rest of my body, I folded a large rag into a triangle and wore it over my shoulders as a cape, the edges wrapped around my waist and tied in the back, but still my sunborn body shivered.

  I had to gain my full strength back before the true winter arrived. My limbs, always strong from climbing, had grown weak. So wherever I had to go, I ran instead of walking. If anything heavy needed to be lifted, I jumped first to grab it. I did my chores fast, then helped the other girls. All the time, I planned, asking the spirits to help me. And then one day they answered.

  I was running through the kitchen, a bucket in each hand, on my way to the creek, when I saw a man whose familiar features stopped me, as did his thudrag, the traditional wear of Shahala men. Something in his face, in his being, called out to the kin in mine and drew me to him.

  “Little sister, what is your name?” His eyes crinkled at the corners. The words flew from his lips in the language of my people, sweet and smooth like dripping honey.

  “I am Tera.” I bowed my head as I should when addressing an elder.

  “Talmir is my name. By the spirits, I both laugh and cry at the sight of you.”

  I understood what he meant as I felt the same—happy to find one of my own, sad for he shared my sorry fate. I had so much to ask him, so much to tell. Two people standing together were ten times stronger than one. Hope filled my heart with warmth for the first time since I left our shores.

  “Talmir—”

  I fell silent as Kumra walked through the doors.

  “Here.” Talmir snatched a small sweetcake from the table and handed it to me behind his back. “Come back when you can.”

  I nodded my thanks, then ran out through the back with my buckets before Kumra could stop me.

  I passed by servants singing as they worked. Two older women made a bawdy joke about men, and the rest broke out laughing. Strange they were, living in servitude like this, yet happy when their masters weren’t watching. Among my people, serenity and composure were the most valued traits. The Kadar, even their servants, seemed to live without restraint. They fought hard and laughed hard and danced hard, as if having no control at all over their emotions. At times they seemed like undisciplined children to me.

  I did return to Talmir many times. I learned he had been kidnapped on the streets of Tezgin by mercenaries who did not understand that all Shahala could not heal. After they realized Talmir could not help them, they beat him and sold him to a slave trader who in turn sold him to the House of Tahar.

  “My mother had come to these lands some time ago,” I told him one day. “Her name was Chalee. Have you met her?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Chalee of Sheharree?”

  I nodded.

  “I heard of her fame.”

  “She came to heal the High Lord, and then she died. Do you know where her body is resting?”

  “The High Lord lives in the fortress city of Karamur. You would have to inquire that way.”

  Karamur. I tasted the name, which meant eagles’ nest in Kadar. I had no idea how far or which way the fortress city lay. My shoulders slumped. “I would wish to recite the Last Blessing over her grave.”

  “Say it from afar,” Talmir advised. “If ever the chance comes for you to escape, flee straight for our Shahala lands. Forget about the fortress city.”

  He would not escape with me, but he would help. He had a wife now—almost a wife, except for the nights when a warrior came to their shared pallet and Talmir had to wait outside under the stars. He had children, a girl and a boy.

  “Avoid going inland. There are more towns like this there, all the way to the desert,” he said one time as we huddled in the corner of the kitchen. “Do not go straight to the harbor, either. You will not be able to sneak onto a ship. They will look for you there.”

  I nodded, excitement like a chatty little creek rushing in my veins.

  “Go to the hills. The rocks will hide your tracks.”

  The hills. My heart beat faster. I knew the plants that grew in the hills. They would feed and shelter me.

  “The hills follow the coastline all the way to the next port town.” He kept an eye on the door, always on guard. “As long as your hair is not shorn, you can pretend to be a free woman. That will save you on the streets, but we have to think of something for booking passage on a ship. Concubines do not travel. Maybe a merchant’s wife.”

  “Or a traveling healer.” My mother had traveled like that to the Kadar to help their High Lord. “I will need a length of cloth that could serve as the healer’s veil.”

  “Fine cloth like that is difficult to find.”

  The laundry was closely guarded by those who received the chore. One small tear, one silk handkerchief lost, and the concubines took it out of the laundress’s hide. I didn’t think I could steal a veil there, nor would I have wanted someone else to be punished for my crime.

  My shoulders slumped as I considered my only option. “Pleasure Hall.”

  “I cannot help you there.”

  No man could enter Pleasu
re Hall other than Tahar.

  I hoped I would be assigned a chore there soon, although Kumra liked to keep me working alongside the servants. I did not dare ask any of the other girls for help, not for fear of betrayal, although I knew some would, but because I did not want any of them to come to harm once I escaped.

  Not knowing when Tahar would return, I planned to leave soon. In his absence, only a handful of warriors guarded his House. When I ran, I did not want his whole army after me.

  I liked the idea of cutting through the hills to the next port for a ship, but home would have to wait. Despite Talmir’s warnings, I still wanted to find my mother’s grave.

  In the next few days, he saved me some food, and I selected two of the largest wool rags that covered my pallet to take with me. I snatched bits and pieces of cloth wherever I could, to stuff under the rags I planned on leaving behind.

  The girls fell asleep fast after coming in each night. I just had to make a lump on my cot so when Kumra came to lock the door she would think all were inside. I would hide in the women’s latrines until the whole house quieted, then run, evading the guards.

  I timed it for a night when both of the moons would be waning. Darkness, like Talmir, would be my friend and speed me to freedom.

  By the time the last day arrived, I had everything but a veil. I leapt to my feet the moment the door banged open in the morning, asking the spirits for help. I waited as Kumra gave instructions to all the other girls, then stopped in front of my pallet.

  “You are coming with me.” For the first time, she sounded tired.

  I kept the sudden joy from showing on my face and shuffled after her to the small door with meek obedience, as if the key to my freedom had not just been handed to me. I wondered what she wanted me to clean now and imagined all the most disgusting tasks. I would have happily done all of them and more.

  But once I stepped through the door, I forgot about the chores, even about my plans to escape. For Pleasure Hall was nothing like I had expected, not like Maiden Hall at all.

  Silk pictures of naked men and women in strange poses covered the walls, painted in rich colors so full of life the images seemed to be moving. I turned my head in embarrassment. My feet sank into a carpet, soft and thick as shirl moss. Then a round pool in the middle of the round hall drew my gaze, and I stared slack-jawed at the steam rising from it.

  I could not gawk long, as I had to keep up with Kumra, who hurried along without paying the least attention to the beauty around us. In passing, I admired the graceful reclining benches covered in luscious fabrics, the richly carved low tables, and their bowls of fruit and sweets.

  Before me spread a world so strange and beautiful it belonged in a dream, although I was not sure if even in my dreams I could have conceived of it.

  Pleasure Hall did not stand deserted during the day as Maiden Hall. About twenty women and twice as many children filled the luxurious central space, and voices of more filtered in from the adjoining chambers. The soft sound of water that seemed to circulate in the pool blended together with the gentle chime of charms around the concubines’ waists, creating something akin to music.

  A few concubines watched our progress, while others embroidered, played with children, or simply rested. The only similarity between Pleasure Hall and Maiden Hall was the small window holes below the round ceiling, although the glass of the ones here swirled with a rainbow of colors.

  From the central space opened many chambers with curved archways, and I followed Kumra into one of them. Some of her gowns were carelessly scattered on the floor where they lay in twisted poses, like beautiful bodies waiting for their spirit to enter them.

  She led me to a small chamber that opened from hers in the back. A delicately carved bed of dark sabal wood stood in the corner, her daughter, Keela, lying upon the bed. Color had fled her face since I had last seen her on the night of the feast. Her eyes stared but did not see.

  Kumra had not brought me to clean. She wanted my healing.

  “I am a Berangi,” she said. “Have you ever seen a Berangi funeral?”

  I shook my head and bowed deep, not daring to look her in the eye.

  In the barbaric Kingdom of Berang when an important person died, the family had a servant killed and buried with the dead so they would have someone to take care of them in the afterlife. In the time of the first kings, they used to bury the servants alive.

  “Pray you do not have to.” Kumra turned back from the door before walking out. “I prefer the old ways, like Tahar.”

  ~~~***~~~

  CHAPTER FOUR

  (Keela)

  I stepped closer to the bed where Keela trembled. A double-layered blanket covered her, the outer panel made of blue damask and embroidered with yellow bell flowers, the inner panel finely woven wool. I had admired the cover when I had seen it in the wash. The petals had been done by such a fine hand that the flowers seemed to dance across the material. Now, in the dim room, they looked like blossoms heaped upon a grave.

  I reached inside my tunic and clutched the phial hanging on the cord around my neck, my only reminder of my mother and freedom. But even that could not bring me comfort as my fears surrounded me.

  I spoke Keela’s name, but she did not respond. I checked her forehead, found it cool and damp with sweat. When I drew the cover down, her trembling increased until I had to hold her in place.

  She wore only a thin sleeping robe and her charm belt. I freed her from the robe so I could fully see her pale body, but tied the charm belt back on, even though I did not believe in its powers. She believed, and that might make a difference.

  I looked over her pale skin, expecting a bite mark from something poisonous, but did not find it even as I turned her over so I would not miss anything. She shook worse with each passing moment, until her body went into quick, hard convulsions.

  A time comes in the progression of disease that all healers recognize, the last chance beyond which exists no return. I looked into Keela’s eyes, the tiny black spots of her pupils that did not see me, and knew I was losing her fast.

  I asked my mother’s spirit for guidance and did everything she taught me. I tasted Keela’s sweat—bitter. Her breath stank like tidewater trapped in the low places on the beach, and in it I could smell the poison. I ran out to Kumra’s chamber to ask how long Keela had been suffering and what she had eaten, but Kumra had left, and I had no time to find her.

  I returned to the girl, opened her mouth, and shoved my fingers down her throat as far as I could, until her stomach gave up its deadly charge. As the sour stench of vomit filled the room, I grabbed the clay jar from the corner and forced half the water down her throat, then made her give it back again. I did the same with the rest of the water, not an easy task as Keela sputtered and choked, resisting my efforts.

  When at last I finished, I returned to Kumra’s chamber and dragged over another jar of water to clean Keela and her bed, then brought in one of Kumra’s throws to cover the girl, whose convulsions had diminished to weak shivers.

  And with that, as little as I had done, I had done all I could. At home, I could have tried a fusion of mixed herbs, but in this strange land I would not have known where to look for them, nor did I have the freedom to leave the House of Tahar and wander into the woods.

  Without true powers, I did not have the ability to send my spirit into Keela’s body to seek the illness and draw it out, to tell her spirit how to help me, what to do.

  My mother used to say youth had its own healing powers, and to them I entrusted Keela. She was young, her body strong. I hoped strong enough—for both our sakes.

  I held her hand, anchoring her body to life by the power of touch. I talked to her, for her spirit to hear and find the way back, should it wander. I told her the story of Lawana, the merchant and the beggar boy, the faithful wife, and by the time I got to the Guardians and the Forgotten City, her breathing had grown even.

  “You would have liked the Forgotten City.” I wiped her face with a
wet cloth. “The houses and towers were beautiful beyond anything that exists now in the world. In the middle of the labyrinth of streets stood a round building of wonders, topped not by a flat roof but something that looked like a giant bowl turned upside down. They called it a dome.”

  She gave no indication that she heard me, but I went on with the tale.

  “The outside they covered in sheets of lustrous gold. The inside of the building was one large open space, with seats enough for multitudes. They painted the ceiling blue and attached golden symbols for all the stars as they stood in the moment of the creation of the world. So exact were their measurements that scholars came from distant kingdoms to study them.”

  I glanced at Keela, and although she did not look in need of clarification, I explained anyway. “Scholars were magical people who studied all things and could explain even the unexplainable.” I did not know anything more about their strange order than that.

  “In exchange for seeing the Map of Eternity, they brought wondrous gifts, metals many times the strength of iron, and lamps that used less oil and burned ten times brighter than the ordinary ones. They even taught the people of the Forgotten City how to make water come to their houses, so nobody had to pull water from a well or go to the creek.”

  This had always seemed the most impressive part of the tale to me, and as a child, I had often wished the secrets of the Forgotten City were still known to us.

  “These scholars gladly gave any knowledge they had for a glimpse at the Map of Eternity, for when they compared it to the position of the stars of their own times, they could tell many things that passed before in the world and even predict events that were to come.”

  I went on, for her sake as much as my own. I needed to think about something else than what would happen to me if I failed to restore her health.