The Third Scroll by Dana Marton

whispered to her about all the good things in life, the few that I knew. And in between, I prayed to the spirits, pleaded for their favor. When Kumra returned, she found me on my knees next to the bed.
    “I will clean these.” I jumped to my feet and picked up the soiled linens from the corner, but she motioned for me to put them down.
    “You will stay here.” She moved toward the sheets and wrinkled her nose at the smell of vomit. “So the illness came from her stomach.” She thought for a moment. “Is it out?”
    I nodded, hoping and praying it would be so.
    Kumra walked to her daughter, her dress swooshing over the stones as it swept the floor. “Will she live?”
    “Yes,” I said, not because I knew so but in case Keela could hear me.
    Kumra glanced toward the pile in the corner. “I will send someone.” She looked less imposing now, standing by her daughter’s bed in the middle of the sour-smelling room.
    “May I ask for Onra?” I snapped my mouth shut with the last word, stunned by my own impudence.
    Kumra narrowed her eyes, and I rushed on before she had a chance to come up with a punishment for my brazenness. “She helped me with my forehead when I first arrived. She is good with the sick, and she is strong. I might need to change the bed again.”
    She looked at Keela one more time and left without a word. I sagged against the wall with relief but found no time to rest. Keela began thrashing again, and it required all my strength and attention to keep her from falling from the bed.
    * * *
    The time of the midday meal had passed when Onra finally came with a jar of fresh water and a bowl of cheese and bread from the kitchen. She looked thinner than I remembered and would not meet my eyes. I set the bowl on the floor while she refilled Keela’s jug. When she finished, I reached for her hand to still her, unsure whether she would want me to ask about what had happened to her.
    “I wish we were still together in Maiden Hall,” I said.
    She looked up at last but said nothing.
    “You did not cry.” I wanted to put some honor into all that was dishonorable.
    She shook her head, and her short hair swayed listlessly around her hollow cheeks.
    “It must be nice to be back with your family.” For my own sake as much as for hers, I needed to find something good in all that had happened.
    “Mother says now that I am a woman, I will have a family of my own soon,” she spoke finally. “Children would be good.” Her lips stretched into a sad smile. “But so would be never seeing another man.”
    She watched Keela while I ran out to the latrines, but she left as soon as I returned, not daring to linger. Before she rushed off, I asked her for some goat milk for Keela, hoping we would get another chance to talk. But when the small jar of goat milk came, Igril delivered it with stars in her eyes as she walked through the splendor of Pleasure Hall.
    Her lips pressed into a thin line as she handed me the jar without a word, clearly displeased that I should be assigned a task there while she had to work outside. She left the chamber in a huff, but I heard her respectful greetings to the concubines on her way out.
    I forced some of the milk down Keela’s throat, then waited. She did not wake for another day, and then only to tell me she would have me beaten as soon as she felt well enough to watch. She remembered my fingers down her throat.
    I cared for her as best I could, aware that each passing day brought closer Tahar’s return, after which escape would be impossible.
    In the mornings, I rose early and waited for Kumra to leave to issue the day’s orders to the maidens. Keela slept a lot, oblivious to the noises of Pleasure Hall outside her chamber. She recovered a little more each day, so I had to act fast, for I did not know how much longer I would be required by her side.
    I crept into Kumra’s chamber, jumping at the slightest noise. She had several chests full of garments and cloth still on the bolt