The Third Scroll by Dana Marton Page A

in every color of the rainbow.
    With trembling fingers, I searched through her treasures, listening for any noise outside. Thrice footsteps chased me back to Keela’s chamber, but they passed each time. At last I found a length of cloth suitable for a healer’s veil and not so fancy that it would be Kumra’s favorite and she would miss it too soon.
    I wrapped the silk around my belly under my clothes, then tucked my tunic carefully back into place. As soon as I could leave Pleasure Hall, I would go to Talmir for food—he had also promised to find a small flask for water—and keep on going until I reached the hills.
    But as the days passed, I still had to spend my nights on a blanket tossed onto the cold floor in the corner of Keela’s chamber. And as she fully recovered, her mood only grew darker.
    “Do you know Rugir?” she asked one day.
    I shook my head, and she huffed, her round face snapping into the icy expression her mother wore so well. “He is the bravest warrior in my father’s House.”
    I nodded, unsure what she expected me to say.
    “Before they left to battle, he promised to perform an act of such bravery that my father would gift him with his first concubine. He is going to ask for me.” She hesitated. “My mother forbids it.” Her face crumpled into misery then, and her shoulders sagged, making her look much younger than her age.
    I wondered when Keela had the occasion to talk to Rugir. None who lived in Pleasure Hall were allowed to cross the threshold of Warrior Hall. And no man was permitted in Pleasure Hall except the sons of the concubines, and they only until the age of eight, when they were taken for training.
    Perhaps Keela and Rugir had seen each other in the Great Hall. If so, then Rugir was already in Tahar’s favor. Only his captains and a handful of his favorite warriors attended the feast, the Great Hall not being large enough to seat the whole of Tahar’s army. The rest of the warriors ate at Warrior Hall or in the kitchen, or in their own hut if they had merited a concubine and had a family.
    Of course, even with Rugir being a worthy warrior, Kumra probably wanted a better match. Another warlord, perhaps. “Is that why you drank the poison?”
    Keela’s lips parted, and I could see the denial on her tongue. But then she shrugged.
    “Where did you find it?”
    She slipped out of bed for the first time and walked to her mother’s chamber on unsteady legs to point at the ceiling.
    Near the holes that let in air and light, someone had secured a clever ledge of wood. On it stood a number of pottery bowls with various plants growing in them, some known to me, others not. The invention seemed both marvelous and horrifying.
    Plants, healing and otherwise, were the gift of Dahru to her children. We sought them on sacred journeys, revered the glens that grew them, removed only as much as absolutely needed for immediate use and drying. To have all that so close nearby, ready at the moment of need, fresh… But surely it could not be right. Anger rose inside me. How dare she keep the gifts of Dahru captive?
    Keela leaned toward me, her face drained. I reached for her arm and helped her back to bed so she could rest, which she did. By the time her mother came to see her, Keela felt well enough, so Kumra allowed me to leave her chamber to work in Tahar’s Hall with the rest of the maidens.
    My feet light with the promise of freedom, I flew down the long corridor but skirted his chambers and the Great Hall, and stole out the back door at once. Warriors came and went in the courtyard—more than had been left behind on guard duty.
    “Is Tahar back?” I asked the first servant I came across, my good mood quickly darkening.
    “With the first of his warriors. The rest are on their way.”
    I wasted no time but sought out Talmir.
    “How did you like Pleasure Hall?” He laid a thick slice of meat onto the flat stone slab in front of him and rubbed it with dry herbs and spices. He might not