The town crier held up his meaty hands. “Silence!” Behind him, two startled birds took flight from one of the cedar beams. “I am here at the behest of Ensi Uruku, Lugal Marus’s second in command, and Nin Arwia, the lugal’s daughter.”
From their viewing box, the nin and the ensi stood briefly and raised a hand. Ensi Uruku leaned down and whispered something in her ear, and the wavery smile fell from her face. I leaned to the left, trying to get a better view past the heads of people in front of me as fear gripped my belly. The town crier held out a hand to Kasha. Struggling with the weight of the tablet, my brother handed it to him, then stepped back into place, his chin held high.
“Per Nin Arwia’s wishes, and upon her advice, it is my duty to announce the selections for Lugal Marus’s three Sacred Maidens. These girls will have the privilege of accompanying the lugal to the afterlife if he should pass. There, these Sacred Maidens will have the great honor of serving him for eternity. Before they go with the lugal, they will move into the Palace to prepare for their final journey.”
Cheers and chanting broke out around me. Many women held their hands up to the sky, praising Enlil with zealous fervor, while others danced, their faces masks of holy gratitude. Nanaea, lit up like a torch in the temple, joined elbows with her friends, who’d managed to find us. The excitement was enough to knock her sideways for at least the next moon.
The horror of it was making my hands shake.
From the platform, the crier raised the tablet with the inscribed names and squinted at the script. The crowd quieted down to whispers and shifting. Everyone wanted to hear. Iltani squeezed my hand with the strength of three men.
“Dear Enlil,” I whispered.
“Yes, Enlil. Be merciful,” Iltani said. “May the nin have selected girls who have no hope for a better life on this side of the Netherworld.” She clutched my hand in hers. On the other side of her, Nanaea held clasped hands to her mouth in prayer.
They wanted to be selected.
“No, Iltani.” I expected my sister to want the favor, but Iltani had some sense about her. “You don’t understand. This isn’t some honor.” I lowered my voice when a wealthy woman who’d been shouting Enlil’s praises looked at me aghast. “Whoever is chosen must cross the river with the Boatman. They’ll be sacrificed for some stupid tradition and leave their families behind.” An ache welled in my chest at the thought, and I swallowed hard.
She shrugged. “The good news for you, then, is that we’ll likely be passed over. No one wants a societal castoff, or a dirty little rat like me. Besides, I’d rather have a couple of rich girls chosen for the sole purpose of getting them out of my hair.”
“Iltani!” I couldn’t believe she could joke at a time like this.
“What?” She grinned, and nodded toward the front, where the town crier was raising the trumpet to his mouth.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen of Alu. The names of Lugal Marus’s Sacred Maidens!”
The crowd screamed and yelled and sang and danced. One woman near the very front threw herself at the town crier’s feet in religious fervor and had to be dragged away by the guardsmen. He silenced the crowd again, and around me voices calmed, hands stilled, breaths slowed. He paused, waiting silently, his eyes taking in the crowd. Reveling in his moment of glory. Every eye in the place was fixed on his mouth, awaiting the words he’d utter next.
My own blood felt as if it were going to bubble up and burst from my skin.
And then the crier’s voice cracked the silence in half. “The first Sacred Maiden is—Simti, Fishmonger’s Daughter!”
My mouth dropped open in shock. She was one of ours! She did her washing along the river on the same day I did. I’d chatted with her many times. The crowd of my neighbors exploded into celebration while the nobility muttered.
Nanaea gasped in awe. “Can you believe it?” she squealed.
“No,” I answered breathlessly.
Simti stood near the back of the crowd in a homespun tunic that could barely conceal her womanly curves. Her eyes were a rich umber, her skin a burnished brown. Her black plaited hair fell to her shoulders. She looked frightened but pleased as she straightened her tunic and walked steadily to the platform to stand next to the town crier. A woman from the Palace court placed a flower crown on her head and golden beaded necklaces about her neck. A smile broke across her face as she waved to the crowd, and I understood their choice. She truly was beautiful. Extraordinarily so. I was still sure there wouldn’t be another girl chosen from against the wall, although in my opinion, Nanaea’s beauty outshone even Simti’s.
Simti took a step to the side as the town crier opened his mouth wide again, this time not even using the trumpet to assist his booming voice. “The second Sacred Maiden is—Huna, Merchant’s Daughter!”
Next to us, a group of wealthy women rejoiced, hugging each other, tears streaming from their eyes. A loud cheer came from a group of merchants near the back of the crowd, no doubt celebrating their success.
Huna, a girl with a bulbous nose and frizzy sable hair chopped below her shoulders strode purposefully to the front, a look of pleased shock on her sallow face as she passed through the crowd to stand next to Simti.
Iltani snorted. “Oh gods, she’s a real beauty. I’ll bet the Palace only chose her because her father is the richest merchant in the city.”
“Is that one of the girls you wanted dead?”
“No, but she’ll do.” Iltani grinned.
She was absolutely terrible when she wanted to be. But her eyes followed Huna as she lowered her head to be draped in necklaces, and the wistful expression in them told me she wanted—at least with some small part of her—to have the honor herself.
“Let’s hope they continue this trend of selecting the wealthy.” Dagan walked behind Iltani, to come stand by me.
Nanaea’s eyes followed his every move. “You’re only saying that because you’re rich, Dagan, and that isn’t fair. Every girl should be eligible for the honor.” She stuck her hand on her hip.
Dagan met my eyes behind her back, his lips compressed. He shook his head. “I never understood it, myself. We can’t know for certain what lies beyond the grave.” He shrugged. “It could be honor. But it could be emptiness. Or horror. We won’t know until we cross the river ourselves.”
Wealthy or not, it appeared he was on my side.
But he was the only one. In the crowd around me, eyes were clenched tightly in prayer, hopeful smiles plastered across faces. Girls clasped hands with one another in a circle, heads bowed, foreheads pressed together. Fathers danced their daughters around in circles while mothers sang into the air, praising Enlil for whatever was to come.