Gil quickly lies back down, wincing as his sore head hits the makeshift pillow. He pretends to sleep. He silently curses himself—he should have known they were lying! Of course they would treat him as a hostage!
Two figures duck in through the tent flap. He hears soft footsteps in the sand next to his head, and a trickle of liquid.
Jaruna
As I was saying, sister, you give Father far more credit than he deserves. He is a stupid old man. Only Yustira knows—and perhaps Bihima, but if Bihima knows, I doubt he cares.
Ayan
I find it hard to believe that Yustira, of all people, has not told Father.
Jaruna
Much has happened since you left, Ayan. Father and our elder brother are … truly I tell you, they are like two scorpions dancing with each other.
Ayan
How poetic you have become, little brother.
Jaruna
But it has nothing to do with what you did.
Suddenly Gil feels a sopping wet cloth on his mouth. A dribble of water runs down his throat.
He starts coughing.
Jaruna
Finally! He is awake!
Gil tries not to stir. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut.
Jaruna
Are you awake? Gil?
Ayan
Perhaps you should give him some more of the holy drink.
Jaruna tilts a flask towards Gil’s lips, and the smell hits him well before the drip of liquid does—an unctuous, earthy stench that burns his nostrils like fire. He bursts up from the ground, coughing and gagging.
Gil
Don’t drug me! You said I wasn’t a hostage, you said—
Dizzy, dizzy … He has to lean on an elbow, half-lying on the ground.
Jaruna
Calm down, Gil! Please, let us explain.
His vision slowly comes into focus. He can see them now, the mystic and his sister. They are illuminated by a strange, softly glowing yellow light. It emanates from a round stone that Ayan holds in her hands.
Ayan
He must have overheard Hatvan just now. Gil, you must trust me—you are not our prisoner. But for some mysterious reason, and perhaps only Asham in the highest heaven knows why, my brother saw fit to tell everyone here that you are our prisoner, so—
Jaruna
I had to tell them something, sister! It is not as though they would have believed your story for bringing them along.
Ayan sighs loudly, causing her veil to puff in and out.
Gil
Where are we? What happened? Someone hit me over the head—
Jaruna
We are camped on the cusp of the Dranim Erg, about thirty miles east of Libri. We had to march night and day to put enough distance between us and the Empire.
Ayan
I am sorry for what happened to you, Gil. But you cannot blame your attacker for his hatred of the Empire. The
Azkazraj Tribe has been living under brutal occupation for more than fifty years. Unfortunately, one of them took out his hatred on you.
He feels the back of his head, wincing as his fingers run over a large bump.
Jaruna hands him the flask. Even from a distance, his eyes water from the burning liquid.
Jaruna
Drink this. It will help with the pain. But only a small sip!
Gil tilts the flask to his lips. But he gags and spits it out in a fine spray. His eyes tear up and the pain throbs even worse.
Jaruna
Yes, I see. You must try squeezing your nose shut as you drink it.
That does the trick.
The liquid burns down his throat and feels hot in his stomach. Soon after he swallows, the pain dulls a little. Jaruna takes back the flask, smiling.
Jaruna
It is soma. Do the Akkadians not tell of soma?
Now that he thinks of it, the liquid did smell awfully familiar.
Gil
Wait, that’s just soma?
Jaruna
Ah! So you know of the holy drink, then.
Gil
Um. I would say that Kiddu knows more about it than me. I don’t think she realized it was holy, though…
Ayan
Kiddu has taken the soma!?
Kiddu snores again, an oblivious lump on the sand.
Jaruna
Ahem. Perhaps we should go outside and get you some fresh air. The stars are quite beautiful tonight.
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