The Third Scroll by Dana Marton

promised, then rushed off so she wouldn’t miss anything.
    I had some peace then before Kumra stopped by after the ceremony, bringing melted snow consecrated by Yullin. She sprinkled the bed and Lord Gilrem in it. I could have told her about his plans of escape. I could have asked for more medicine and sneaked drops into his food unseen. I could have taken the water jar from the chamber so he would have been forced to drink whatever I brought him.
    Those thoughts swirled in my mind as Kumra passed me with a narrow-eyed look on her way out. I said nothing. I had not promised my help to the man, but neither could I harm him.
    Because I had a Shahala heart. And my mother’s spirit.
    I could see myself in those thoughts at last, as if in a mirror, and disliked what I saw. I had wanted, all my life, to be a daughter worthy of my mother, to become just like her. Yet what would she think if she could see me now? Had I become like the self-serving Kadar I despised?
    I had, I feared. I had been so sure I was ready for the spirits to bless me with true powers, yet I still behaved as a child.
    A Shahala healer could not choose whom she helped. Who was I, barely a woman, to decide who was worthy? My duty was to help everyone as best I could with no questions asked. If I assisted Kumra with ensnaring Lord Gilrem, I would have gained my freedom, but I would have lost my spirit, a fate as bad as if the lantaya filled my heart and drowned it.
    So I told Lord Gilrem I would help him, and poured water into the black phial, and at every meal, I dropped a drop in his cup in front of Keela. And every day he drank and pretended to be weak. But as soon as Keela left the chamber, he rose and walked around the room to stretch his limbs.
    On the third day, after Keela had gone to visit the latrines and I knew Kumra would be at Maiden Hall assigning chores, I turned to Lord Gilrem. “My Lord, the time is here.”
    At once he donned his short under-tunic and doublet, wrapped his feet and pulled on his boots, then stood ready.
    “The shortest way out is through the door that leads from Tahar’s Hall to the street,” I told him, remembering well the door through which I had walked into slavery. “The steward keeps it locked at all times, but he cannot refuse you exit.”
    Lord Gilrem shook his head. “We cannot waste time looking for the man.”
    He was right. Keela could return any minute, and the steward, one of the oldest men at the House of Tahar, oversaw many things from the spinning to the purchases that came in from the market.
    “The War Gate, then.” In my mind I mapped the path to the wide portal through which the warriors marched off to war and returned. “We shall have to cross the courtyard.” Which would be busy this time of the day. “We will have to move fast.” And pray that we would not be seen by Kumra or Keela.
    “I stand ready.” His eyes, almost completely clear now, glinted with determination. He was still but a shadow of the warrior prince I had first seen by the creek, but his richly embroidered golden doublet lent him stature and the sword by his side an illusion of strength. The effort of getting fully dressed for the first time in a long time had put some color into his face.
    I stuck my head out the door but saw only servants, so I rushed down the corridor, Lord Gilrem close behind me. I checked once again before we stepped out to the courtyard.
    “We will go straight for the gate.” We had to spend as little time in the open as possible.
    But no sooner did the words leave my mouth than Kumra appeared at the door of Maiden Hall. We drew back and watched from the shadows as she marched to the kitchen.
    I grabbed the phial hanging from my neck. Knowing this was my last chance, I whispered the question I had not dared ask before. “My mother was at Karamur some years back to heal the High Lord. Have you met her, my Lord?”
    “My brother is never sick. Must have been the High Lord before him.” His shrug said