by Susan Kim
Yet now something had changed.
He looks different, she thought. Sober, clear-eyed, and kind. “It’s nice to see you, too.”
She made room on the ledge of the fountain and the two sat side by side. Without asking, Nur extinguished the torch, and both of them kept their voices low; that way, perhaps they would be able to detect anyone before they themselves were spotted.
Even so, the two friends talked at first about trivial things, relatively safe topics: new people who had come to the District, the quality of the food for sale, the shortage of sheets to sell the worshippers.
Then Eli mentioned his new job.
Nur kept her head down as Eli told her about his responsibilities and how he alone determined the fate of dozens of criminals every day. He spoke slowly at first, as if fearing her judgment. He described the people who came before him: thieves, blasphemers, the unclean.
Then Eli fell silent, as if gathering courage. In one breath, he described how he had had to sentence Esther to death and then kill her himself.
Noticing that the boy was trembling, Nur gave a sympathetic murmur and placed a hand on his arm. The news was no surprise; she had been in the room when the message had been delivered to Saith. Still, Eli clearly felt the need to confess. “Don’t blame yourself,” Nur said. “You had to do it.”
Eli nodded. He seemed to want to say something more about the execution, but when Nur turned a questioning look to him, he shook it off.
Eli explained that often he was left alone now, in the court. Without guards supervising his actions and reporting them back to Saith and Gideon, he had been free to make more and more decisions on his own. That afternoon, for example, he had sentenced a boy who had been accused of stealing a rotten squash that had been left unattended.
The child was no more than five.
Nur shot Eli an incredulous look. “But that not stealing. Besides, he too little to know any better.”
“I know.”
“So what you do?”
Eli hesitated. Glancing around, he lowered his voice even more. “I was supposed to send him to a work detail.”
Nur frowned. “Make him a slave?”
Eli shook his head. “I couldn’t. So I told him not to do it again. Then, when no one was looking, I set him free.” He sighed. “If she finds out, though . . .”
There was silence. In the darkness, Nur heard herself speak. “I seen her mix the water.”
Eli shot her a questioning look.
“Saith,” Nur explained. “I seen her mix the water. She use a can of something blue. Ain’t nothing magic about what she does.”
Nur knew she was saying things she shouldn’t, accusations that would get her executed if anyone were to find out. Before now, she couldn’t trust anyone with her suspicions. Yet this boy who held such power had confided in her. She couldn’t help herself; it had been so long since she had unburdened herself to anyone, and the relief she felt was almost physical.
Then Eli spoke again. He didn’t sound scandalized or angry; he lowered his voice to a whisper and said something even more dangerous. “So what should we do about it?”
Nur gave a start and grabbed Eli’s hand to silence him; she thought she heard something. Her heart pounding in terror, she kept still. The noise came again, and this time it was for real.
One of Saith’s guards was walking across the lobby, a lit torch held high. “Who there?” he shouted.
But Nur and Eli had both sprung to their feet. By the time the guard reached the fountain, there was no sign that anyone had been there.
“Girl!”
Nur appeared at the doorway. She saw that Saith was alone, lying facedown on her bed. She was leafing through a thin book filled with colorful images: a magazine.
Since she had begun working for her, Nur spent most of her waking time with the girl priestess. She slept in an adjoining room, prepared her food, and attended to her throughout the day. Saith was not so much cruel as utterly unaware of the older girl’s presence. Nur was nothing more to her than a piece of furniture or a utensil: something to be used and otherwise ignored. As a result, Saith was utterly unselfconscious in her presence—which meant that Nur got to see her as she really was, not as she pretended to be.
Now Saith looked at pictures in the magazine, shifting to get comfortable. With fresh clarity, Nur saw that the priestess was nothing more than a child, willful and spoiled. She threw tantrums when she didn’t get her way; she was vindictive and vengeful, remembering the smallest slights long after anyone else would have moved on.
Yet Nur had to admit that the child was clever, too. She understood how frightened everyone was: afraid of water, of earthquakes, of the disease. Of dying young. So she had created a religion based on fear.
Without bothering to look up, the little girl now indicated a table across the room,covered with small bottles.
“Try something new tonight,” she said.
Every few days, Nur was responsible for grooming Saith. She was ordered to use the creams and lotions that had once filled the shelves of one of the stores downstairs, supplies that were now kept locked up and reserved for Saith alone.
Nur examined the bottles, uncapping each and sniffing the contents. There were dozens of them, smelling of flowers and fruit. She chose a new one and approached Saith, who was already stretched out on the bed.
Nur stood over her. Although she knew guards kept watch outside the door, she and Saith were alone. As she opened the jar, she gazed down at the younger girl, the person who had not only taken away her youth and beauty, but also kept her as a virtual slave.
As she poured some lotion into her hands and rubbed her palms together to warm it up, the fragrant aroma of blossoms rose in the air. Saith looked oddly defenseless, waiting for her anointing to begin. Her pale and fragile limbs were like twigs, and her neck was like the stalk of a plant.
Without being aware of it, Nur flexed her fingers. Working so hard, she had grown strong; her body, once so soft and curved, was now as lean and taut as a boy’s. Her arms and hands were especially muscled now; they could crush and twist.
It would be so easy, Nur suddenly thought.
Trembling, she pulled back. Instead, she placed her hands on the soles of Saith’s feet. Then she began to rub the lotion in, gently and methodically.
“That good,” said Saith.
Nur let out her breath; only now did she realize she had been holding it in. She continued to work in her methodical way, massaging cream over the girl before finally wiping it off with a soft cloth.
Lastly, she helped the little girl back into her T-shirt. She did not need to be told what to do next.
Nur went to the door and without speaking or making eye contact, signaled to a guard, who nodded and disappeared around a corner. Within minutes, he returned, carrying something in a wooden crate. He handed it to the girl, who brought it into the room and set it on the floor where Saith was already waiting.
The box held the squirming body of a baby with lavender eyes and a flattened nose.
Saith was so intent she didn’t seem to notice her underling, much less bother to dismiss her; she just sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at Esther’s child. In the meantime, Nur moved unobtrusively behind her, putting away her supplies and folding towels. She too stole glimpses at Sarah and a strange feeling rose within her.
Prior to working for Saith, Nur had never been this close to a baby. Infants had been an abstract notion, something that had never interested her much, even though other girls made such a fuss about them. Yet she was surprised to see how cunning the little thing was, with its round belly and slender limbs. Its rosy skin almost seemed translucent in the delicate webs that separated its tiny fingers; altogether it was an enchanting creature. Even though it was only a variant, Nur was astonished by the powerful emotion the child stirred in her: a need to nurture and protect that she had never felt before.
And so she was chilled by the expression on the priestess’s
face. There was no trace of affection, warmth, or sentiment of any kind. Instead, she gazed down on the baby with eyes that were cold and clinical. Nur was suddenly reminded of a boy she had seen once on the street, crouched over a dying snake that he prodded with a stick. Saith’s eyes held the same fascination and fear, the same disgust and calculation.
In the silence, Nur slipped away.
With a sick heart, she realized that Saith was planning to do something terrible to Esther’s baby.
Unless, of course, she was stopped.
Several blocks away, the sun continued to blaze down on the roof where the construction was taking place. By midmorning, the black surface had become so hot, it sent up waves of rippling air that reeked of tar and burned through the tattered soles of everyone’s sneakers.
But Esther paid it no attention. She was far too concerned about the change she had noticed in Jud.
For the past two days, the slave master had been even more unreasonable in his demands, driving workers and punishing stragglers with unprecedented viciousness. Because the slaves had to carry materials up dozens of flights before they could even begin the day’s work, building progress was slow. Still, it was going far better than Esther could have imagined. Under Joseph’s patient tutelage, the miniature greenhouse was nearly completed.
Workers were soldering the last of the metal strips that made up the frame, and the final panes were stacked to one side, waiting to be set. Inside, the long, wooden tables held over a hundred plastic trays that were halfway filled with sterilized water. Tiny seedlings, their roots suspended in the liquid like fine white hairs, were already growing in a few of the planters: tomatoes, squash, radishes, cabbage.
Yet from the heavy, sweating face of their supervisor, Esther could see that none of it was good enough. And during their midday break, she found out why.
Jud wasn’t angry.
He was afraid.
As usual, Esther had found herself on the outskirts of the group, sitting cross-legged on the hot and gritty tarpaper that lined the roof. Two of the older slaves walked among them doling out lunch: a handful of porridge and a sip of musty water from a plastic bucket. As Esther waited her turn, she kept her head down and her attention on Jud and the other masters gathered in the corner. Earlier she had noticed a messenger from the District communicate a few words to Jud before leaving. Now the boys spoke in agitated murmurs. By concentrating, Esther was able to hear their distinct voices.
“It got to be right,” Jud kept saying.
“It is,” one of the others assured him.
“It got to be right for them,” Jud repeated. “He just said they coming. She coming. Today.” As the others murmured, Esther turned away, her heart pounding.
They could only be talking about one person. If Saith showed up for an inspection, she thought with a sickening feeling, what would she do? How would she hide? Esther wore a hooded cloak, like the others, yet she knew it provided precious little cover for her face.
Their short break now over, the slaves were ordered back downstairs. As Esther descended the suffocating stairwell, she wondered why they were being brought to the lower level. Once they emerged in the lobby, she understood.
Standing behind the immense front counter was an altar of sorts that they had started several days earlier. Its location was critical, for Esther knew that it was intended to be a prominent place where the girl priestess would sit and welcome her followers. Although they had laid the foundation, it was far from finished. Part of the problem was that Joseph had no experience or knowledge about how to construct such a thing, and so it resembled a greenhouse in miniature, made of panes of glass held together by soldered metal.
To her astonishment, Esther realized that Jud intended for the structure to be finished in time for Saith’s arrival that day. She could tell by his persistent hysteria.
“Faster!” he kept screaming as he cracked the leather belt he always carried above their heads. “Go faster!”
Slaves struggled to fit panes into the metal skeleton that served as the altar’s frame. A central gap was reserved for a special piece of glass: a large and thick slab, as wide as it was tall, made of a beautiful pebbled blue. Eight workers had spent nearly an entire day transporting it across the city; the spectacular panel would make a fitting centerpiece. Now Esther, Ava, and two others were ordered to pick it up and set it into to the altar.
Esther held back for a moment. She was still thinking about how to disguise herself as she watched the others approach the slab. Together, the three struggled to hoist it, stationing themselves underneath to gain the most leverage.
Anyone could see it was a nearly impossible task: The heavy slab kept shifting in their sweaty grasp. When Ava stumbled once, nearly dropping her corner, the entire piece shifted dangerously.
Then Esther had an idea. It would be risky, but she could think of no other way to avoid being recognized by Saith in the few precious minutes she had left. “Let me do it.”
One of the workers shot her a mean look. “You gonna show us how?” He was breathless from lifting; his raspy voice was full of hostility.
Esther shook her head. “Let me do it alone.”
All of her companions stared at her, puzzled. Then the boy snorted and turned to the others. “Let her.”
The three tilted the segment back to the floor and waited for Esther to take hold. Then, skeptical yet clearly curious, they backed off.
Esther faced the piece of glass. It was taller than she was and nearly as thick as her wrist. Even balancing it took considerable effort; she guessed it outweighed her by three or four times. Using all of her strength, she managed to tip the piece up on one corner as it nearly slipped from her grasp. Realizing that everyone in the lobby was now watching her, Esther hoisted the edge as high as she could. Then, deliberately, she let go of it.
And watched it shatter on the marble floor.
Everyone cried out as glass exploded with an earsplitting boom. The impact could be felt across the entire lobby as chunks and bits of blue spilled in every direction.
In the silence that followed, all eyes swiveled to the slave master.
For several seconds, Jud remained still. He hadn’t witnessed what had just happened and seemed unable to make sense of the mounds of broken blue pebbles that lay scattered across the marble floor.
Then he erupted, drawing the leather belt. But before he could strike out, Esther’s companions spoke.
“She did it,” the boy said, pointing at Esther, his voice trembling. Ashen faced, the girl by his side nodded.
“He’s right,” Esther said in a level voice. Although her stomach was knotted in fear, she did not shrink back; she raised her chin in an open look of defiance, one she hoped would trigger the boy’s anger. “I slipped.”
Jud snorted, as if in disbelief. He began to turn away and Esther felt a fresh pang of dread. Would he punish another slave for her behavior, as he always had before?
Then, in one movement, he whirled around and lashed the belt directly across Esther’s face, snapping her head back.
Inwardly, Esther rejoiced; she had bargained for this response. Yet the pain of it was beyond excruciating, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. As she collapsed to the floor, her arms curled uselessly around her head. She was lucky to have taken the brunt of the blow across her jaw and cheek; it had missed her eyes by a fraction of an inch. She watched as the slave master stormed off, barking at those who had witnessed the assault: “Clean this up! Now! Now!”
There was a long pause. Then other slaves advanced to her side in twos and threes.
Esther felt herself wavering in and out of consciousness, yet sensed the others standing above her. Ava knelt by her side. The younger girl now rested Esther’s head in her lap and attempted to blot the blood with her smock.
“Please.” Esther could barely speak; her jaw felt as if it were on fire. She gestured at her face, and Ava understood. She took the hem of her own garment and tore a ragge
d strip from it. This she wound around Esther’s face before knotting it at the back.
Now, Esther thought with grim satisfaction, she was safe. And just in time.
“She here!” she heard a guard yell. “Saith is here!”
Saith and Gideon stood on the far side of the lobby and surveyed the workers, who had hastily raised their hoods to cover their heads.
“Show respect.” Jud’s whisper was harsh. In response, all of the slaves put their fingers to their temples and began to bow again and again. Even so, more than a few dared to keep their expressions hard and full of contempt.
Esther stood in the back row, her swollen and aching face concealed by the rag. She felt not only shaky but nauseated as well; she prayed she didn’t become sick or draw any further attention to herself. With gratitude, she noticed that those on either side of her now stood close by, including those who had despised her only moments before. With their support, she was able to stay erect. As she bowed with the others, Gideon’s eyes skittered across the assemblage but didn’t stop on her.
For her part, Saith seemed unimpressed. She glanced at the stacks of lumber, glass, and other building materials that sat unattended near an inner staircase. Although the slaves had scrambled to clean the lobby before her appearance, heaps of debris, broken glass, and dust were still everywhere. The little girl sighed with dissatisfaction and addressed Gideon.
“When it be done?”
“Soon.” Red-faced and sweating, Jud was much taller than the priestess. Still, Esther could tell by the way he hunched his shoulders and leaned forward he was trying to make himself appear smaller and more humble. But the little girl acted as if she hadn’t even noticed the boy as she glanced up at the majestic ceiling.
“He say they on time,” Gideon replied.
“They better be.” Saith sounded sleepy.