The Third Scroll by Dana Marton Read Free Book Online Page A

of the first kings, they used to bury the servants alive.
    “Pray you do not have to.” Kumra turned back from the door before walking out. “I prefer the old ways, like Tahar.”
     
     
    ~~~***~~~
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FOUR
    (Keela)
     
     
    I stepped closer to the bed where Keela trembled. A double-layered blanket covered her, the outer panel made of blue damask and embroidered with yellow bell flowers, the inner panel finely woven wool. I had admired the cover when I had seen it in the wash. The petals had been done by such a fine hand that the flowers seemed to dance across the material. Now, in the dim room, they looked like blossoms heaped upon a grave.
    I reached inside my tunic and clutched the phial hanging on the cord around my neck, my only reminder of my mother and freedom. But even that could not bring me comfort as my fears surrounded me.
    I spoke Keela’s name, but she did not respond. I checked her forehead, found it cool and damp with sweat. When I drew the cover down, her trembling increased until I had to hold her in place.
    She wore only a thin sleeping robe and her charm belt. I freed her from the robe so I could fully see her pale body, but tied the charm belt back on, even though I did not believe in its powers. She believed, and that might make a difference.
    I looked over her pale skin, expecting a bite mark from something poisonous, but did not find it even as I turned her over so I would not miss anything. She shook worse with each passing moment, until her body went into quick, hard convulsions.
    A time comes in the progression of disease that all healers recognize, the last chance beyond which exists no return. I looked into Keela’s eyes, the tiny black spots of her pupils that did not see me, and knew I was losing her fast.
    I asked my mother’s spirit for guidance and did everything she taught me. I tasted Keela’s sweat—bitter. Her breath stank like tidewater trapped in the low places on the beach, and in it I could smell the poison. I ran out to Kumra’s chamber to ask how long Keela had been suffering and what she had eaten, but Kumra had left, and I had no time to find her.
    I returned to the girl, opened her mouth, and shoved my fingers down her throat as far as I could, until her stomach gave up its deadly charge. As the sour stench of vomit filled the room, I grabbed the clay jar from the corner and forced half the water down her throat, then made her give it back again. I did the same with the rest of the water, not an easy task as Keela sputtered and choked, resisting my efforts.
    When at last I finished, I returned to Kumra’s chamber and dragged over another jar of water to clean Keela and her bed, then brought in one of Kumra’s throws to cover the girl, whose convulsions had diminished to weak shivers.
    And with that, as little as I had done, I had done all I could. At home, I could have tried a fusion of mixed herbs, but in this strange land I would not have known where to look for them, nor did I have the freedom to leave the House of Tahar and wander into the woods.
    Without true powers, I did not have the ability to send my spirit into Keela’s body to seek the illness and draw it out, to tell her spirit how to help me, what to do.
    My mother used to say youth had its own healing powers, and to them I entrusted Keela. She was young, her body strong. I hoped strong enough—for both our sakes.
    I held her hand, anchoring her body to life by the power of touch. I talked to her, for her spirit to hear and find the way back, should it wander. I told her the story of Lawana, the merchant and the beggar boy, the faithful wife, and by the time I got to the Guardians and the Forgotten City, her breathing had grown even.
    “You would have liked the Forgotten City.” I wiped her face with a wet cloth. “The houses and towers were beautiful beyond anything that exists now in the world. In the middle of the labyrinth of streets stood a round building of wonders, topped