The Whore of Babylon

Chapter 12 | part 1

Isin haunted her dreams.

More than a month after his murder, she still slept badly. The worst part of it was that she couldn't confide the reason for her restlessness in her sister, and Kisha was beginning to complain of Eliana's tossing and turning disrupting her own sleep. Eliana had to deflect her, saying that it was the collar still making her uncomfortable.

It was impossible to rest – Isin's shade stalked her relentlessly, blank glazed eyes fixed upon her, staring from a shadowy face.

And his wasn't the only shadow to haunt her – she was becoming afraid to leave the apartments, even to go to the bathhouse. Everywhere she walked, her footsteps seemed to have an echo; if she stopped to look round, she saw nothing. If she ever thought she saw a shape flicker around the corner behind her, it was so swift as to make her think she might have imagined it.

Dark circles had begun to form under her eyes, and she was nervy, jumping at every little motion or sound, much to the irritation of Mari and Kisha.

Of course, Mari knew why she was anxious, and tried to accommodate it. Eliana had had to explain to her why Sarri was still in the cradle. Both girls had been fond of Isin, and they wept together as they tried to puzzle out how Samsu might have discovered them.

Eliana tried desperately hard not to suspect Mari. If she had betrayed them then there was truly no-one in the world she could trust but her sister. From that day onwards, Eliana was careful what she shared with Mari.

The older girl was hurt by the sudden withdrawal – the puzzlement was plain to see in her amber eyes. Without hard evidence, Eliana did not like to accuse her of anything.

Ashan had been as good as his word. By the morning following the butchery in the garden, there was no trace of Isin but a few rusty-looking patches of grass where the blood had stained the greenery.

A good strong storm would wash it away, but Eliana stayed away from her little haven, letting the weeds claim her carefully cultivated herbs. She could not bear to sit there again, in her favourite spot against the wall, knowing that Samsu had profaned the place. The gods could send a flood to wash away the world, and still her former sanctuary would not be clean.

Eliana's seventeenth birthday came and went all but unnoticed. Her sister gave her a gold hairpiece adorned with sapphire-blue feathers that brought out the midnight hues of her hair, along with a belt of braided leather threaded with alabaster beads brightly coloured with cedar oil paints.

If she had hoped to receive a message from their father, she was disappointed. Neither girl dared to ask after him when Ashan came to visit. Ignorance was bliss, and both had learned not to ask questions when they feared the answer. They preferred to believe that no news was good news – it had been nearly four moons since the birth of Kisha's child, and they had still not received a message of congratulations.

Similarly, Eliana could not bring herself to ask anybody why Samsu had not yet sent for her. She knew that her attempt to free Sarri could not go unpunished, but since he had collared her, she had not been summoned. At first, every passing day had tightened the knot of worry in the pit of her stomach; now she began to dare to hope.

At the end of every day of freedom from his attentions, Eliana knelt at the little shrine to Enlil in the bedroom, scattered dried rosemary over the altar, lit a taper and gave thanks.

The time did not pass slowly – Sarri was growing fast. She was beginning to sleep almost through the nights now, waking up only for a feed. During the daytimes, she was lively and interested; already she was holding her own head and starting to roll. This new agility took Eliana completely by surprise when she set her niece on the floor on her back to change her, twisted around for the clean napkin, and turned back to discover Sarri lying on her front, babbling away to herself quite happily.

If it had not been for the collar that still chafed at her spirit, though her skin had grown used to it, and Isin's restless gidim haunting her, she could have been as fully at ease in her rooms as when she lived with her father.

Even Kisha seemed cheerful again – she laughed more frequently, and went about singing to Sarri. The colour had returned to her cheeks and lips, the hollow look was gone from her eyes. They were lit with carefree good humour again as her sister remembered them.

Eliana thought she knew why. She shared a secret smile with Kisha, as she shared her bed. Her own monthly courses had been and gone twice since Kisha's last moon blood. She had only bled once since the birth of her daughter.

Sending Mari away on an errand to the linen room, she went to sit with her sister at the loom. In the look that passed between them, there could be no doubt that each knew what the other was thinking.

Kisha's hands worked deftly over the warps, passing the wooden shuttle back and forth in a steady rhythm. 'You know, then,' she smiled.

'Are you sure?'

'Positive. I have the same tenderness, tiredness, nausea – I'm going to have another baby!'

It was all Eliana could do not to squeal in delight. 'This time, a prince for sure!'

'I'm certain of it.'

'I can't believe how fast it's happened – are you sure you're ready?'

Kisha grimaced, 'more than ready. Perhaps once I tell Samsu, he'll stop honouring me with his attention and 'doing his duty' every night, and I can go back to a peaceful existence.'

A familiar fear clenched at Eliana's stomach. If Samsu was not diverted by her sister, would he send for her instead?

'When will you tell him?' she asked.

'Tonight. Will you help me dress?'

'Of course.' Eliana hugged her sister – delighting in her good fortune.

That evening, she dressed Kisha in a gown of fringed carmine silk, dusted her lips and cheeks with vermillion and pinned her black ringlets up with silver pins and scarlet feathers. Leaving the neck bare, she dusted it with a shimmering powder of pearl, and hung a heavy belt of silver medallions around her hips. Her waist was a little softer than it had been this time last year, but she was still slim and flat-bellied.

She stepped back to admire her work. It was easy to see why Kisha had been chosen, of the three hundred girls brought to the Red Palace for Samsu's inspection. She was breathtaking – still only twenty-two years old, in the prime of her beauty, and looking healthier than she had done since Samsu's rule began.

'You look stunning.'

Kisha blushed.

There was a knock at the door – Kisha went to it herself, not wanting to keep Ashan waiting, and eager to have Samsu's response.

Eliana waited anxiously, alone in the fading light – Mari was down at the bathhouse, enjoying a few hours to herself at Kisha's insistence to allow the sisters privacy to gossip as they prepared.

She did not have long to wait – Kisha was back within half an hour.

'He won't touch me now,' she grinned, 'he won't risk harming the baby.'

Something in her voice set Eliana on edge. 'Congratulations,' she said, almost through gritted teeth. 'Is there something more?'

Kisha's face fell a little as she admitted, 'he wants to see you tomorrow night.'