“Gil!”

I had been scream­ing at the top of my lungs. A veneer of sweat wraps my skin. I find myself sit­ting up in my bed, gulp­ing down air.

“I’m okay…” I say.

“Was it another dream?” says Kiddu.

“Yeah…”

“It sounded like a bad one.”

“Yeah, a lit­tle…”

I’m not sure if it’s day or night. It’s impos­si­ble to tell, which makes it harder for me to calm down. The torch still flick­ers on the wall out­side my cell.

“What does he dream?” asks the native woman.

 

“Oh,” says Kiddu. “Good morn­ing. Are you ready to talk to the evil Akka­di­ans yet?”

“In my land, dreams and night­mares are not taken lightly.”

“Well, it’s none of your damn busi­ness what he dreams about. I thought we weren’t talk­ing?”

I don’t like where this is going. “Kiddu…”

“What? If she won’t tell us any­thing about her, why should we tell her any­thing about us? Ah—aaah.”

She yawns. Appar­ently she had been sleep­ing against the wall and my scream­ing woke her up. I won­der if any of the impe­r­ial guards heard. I feel like an idiot.

“I’ll stay up with you for a while, if you want,” she says.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s try to get some sleep. I’m sure we have a really excit­ing day tomor­row.”

“Kiddu,” says the native woman. “You may sleep in the bed if you like. I am not tired.”

Kiddu yawns again. For a while she doesn’t say any­thing. Then: “Thanks.”

I hear the rus­tle of her clothes and then a creak as she drops onto the mat­tress. After only a minute, I hear her snor­ing.

 

“Do you love her?”

The young native woman speaks in a low half-whisper that nev­er­the­less shakes me out of my stu­por. It takes a few moments for the ques­tion to sink in.

“What? Do I love who?”

“Kiddu.”

I hes­i­tate.

I have no idea how to answer. I’ve known Kiddu since we were lit­tle kids and obvi­ously I’ve had a crush on her from time to time, but—what kind of stu­pid ice­breaker is this sup­posed to be?

“Yeah,” I finally say, qui­etly. “I mean, I guess I do. I mean—like a sis­ter.”

“You are a bad liar.”

“What are you talk­ing about?”

I’m glad she’s talk­ing, but I sure as hell don’t want to talk about this.

What would she know, any­way?

“I was in love once.”

This just hangs in the air for a while.

“What hap­pened?”

“He was killed by Akka­dian sol­diers.”

“Oh…”

“And the men who killed him took me and they—had their way with me.”

I sit up in my bed. I sud­denly feel very stu­pid and child­ish.

“And now, I am here.”

 

I try to come up with some sort of com­fort­ing or sym­pa­thetic response to this but I don’t think there is any. The torch­light flick­ers, count­ing out the sec­onds of awk­ward silence.

“Why are you telling me this?” I say.

“Because … I do not want to hate you. It is dif­fi­cult for me, after what hap­pened. It is tempt­ing and easy to sim­ply hate all the Akka­di­ans. But I do not want to. I am get­ting tired of it.”

“Well…”

“And also to warn you. Do not let your­self fall in love. You walk a tightrope between sin on the one side and unimag­in­able grief and hatred on the other. It is bet­ter to not love at all, and only obey the will of Asham.”

I clear my throat. My eyes are watery. I wipe them on my dusty sleeve.

“I don’t think I really have a choice about how I feel,” I say.

“Per­haps not.”

“I meant what I said ear­lier, you know. About not being one of them—”

“I know.”

I smile, relieved.

“But you are still a sin­ner.”

“Psh,” I say. “I know what you are, but what am I?”

“What?”

“I know what you are, but—heh, sorry, it’s just some­thing me and Kiddu say when we’re mak­ing fun of each other. I didn’t mean any­thing by it. Just sort of blurted it out.”

“I see.”

I strug­gle for some­thing to fill the near silence, punc­tu­ated every now and then by Kiddu’s tremen­dous snores. I feel thank­ful and a lit­tle guilty towards this woman for open­ing up to me. I won­der if she’s ever told any­one what she just said. Or if she’s had the chance.

“What are you read­ing?” I ask.

“An Akka­dian book. They gave it to me sev­eral weeks ago. I have already fin­ished it, if you would like to read it.”

She hooks her arm out through the gate and around the cell wall, book in hand. I reach out and take the small leather­bound tome, care­ful not to touch her fin­gers lest I vio­late some native rule of male-female deco­rum. It’s dusty green with the scar­let ziggurat-and-eye Akka­dian emblem on it.

The Ency­clo­pe­dia Akka­dia?”

“I offered it to Kiddu ear­lier, but she said it would only put her to sleep.”

I flip through the book. I’m pretty sure the Tem­ple had a copy in its small library but I never read it.

“Thanks.”

She doesn’t answer.