Sarah by Marek Halter Page A

help you sleep. You weren’t to be disturbed, in order to let the herbs do their work. May all the Lords of Heaven forgive me, I’ve been telling lies all day!”
    â€œNo, no. Your herbs always do me good! I’ll be up tomorrow, and they’ll see me and say that Sililli knows more about herbs than any other handmaid in the city!”
    The compliment, and Sarai’s promise to show herself to the whole household the next day, made Sililli smile through her tears. But her moaning soon resumed.
    â€œYou’ll be the death of me, my girl, the death of me! Either your father will kill me with his scorpions, or the gods will tear my heart out for my lies!”
    â€œIt’s only a little lie,” Sarai jested bitterly. “Almost the truth.”
    â€œDon’t blaspheme, I beg you! Not on a day like today.” She lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper to ask the question that was tormenting her. “Were you with him? With the
mar.Tu?
”
    Sarai thought of telling the truth. But then she thought of the
kassaptu
’s little packets rubbing against her skin under the belt of her tunic, and she lied again. After all, what was one lie more or less?
    â€œNo, I went to the great temple of Inanna. I wanted to make offerings and ask the protection of the Almighty One so that my father should make a good choice for the man I am to marry.”
    â€œThe great temple? Is that where you were?”
    â€œI need to be prepared. I don’t want to be afraid again.”
    â€œWithout telling me—even though you know your father has forbidden you to leave the house?”
    â€œThe idea came to me while you were still asleep. Everyone was asleep, even my father. And I wanted to be alone before holy Inanna.”
    Sililli shook her head. “You’ll be the death of me, my girl,” she said again, “the death of me!”
    Sarai summoned the strength to smile and to hug her, pressing her cheek against hers, until Sililli abandoned her questions with a sigh of resignation.
    â€œAnyway, you’re here. And we all have to die one day.”
    But she never again let Sarai out of her sight. She would wake her in the night to make sure she had not run away. Because of this, Sarai was unable to prepare the herb of infertility until just before it was time for her to go back to the chamber of blood. Nor was she able to follow Kani Alk-Nàa’s instructions to the letter.
    She stole a pitcher of boiling water from the kitchen, put the five packets of herbs in it to soak, and hid it in the garden. But thanks to Sililli’s vigilance, she could not drink the infusion as quickly as she wanted. It was not until the next day that she managed to escape her handmaid’s eyes, slip out into the garden, and take the infused packets of herbs from the pitcher. They had become white and shriveled. Did it really matter that they had soaked for so long? Sarai doubted it. The important thing was to hide them until she had an opportunity to destroy them!
    Recalling the disgusting stench of the witch’s lair, she dreaded the taste of the potion, but she was pleasantly surprised: The infusion was sweet, almost as sweet as honey, with a slightly acid but refreshing aftertaste. It was far from unpleasant, and she would even have drunk it for pleasure. Fearing that she would have little free time in the hours to come, Sarai decided unhesitatingly to swallow the entire pitcher.
    When she returned to the women’s quarters, she felt calm for the first time in days. At last, it was done. At last, the herb of infertility was inside her. The blood wasn’t coming to flow between her thighs.
    She knew what would happen. After two, or three, or five days with no blood on her linen, Sililli, her aunts, and her father would think she was ill; it would not occur to any of them that she had been brave enough to enter the lair of a
kassaptu
. They would make a large number of