Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

When he awoke, the silver woman with emerald eyes was gone and Zev had no way to measure how much time had passed. He lay in a different room, this cell bare and windowless, lit only by the glow of one weak torch set high up on the stone wall.

His body's hurts remained as fresh as when the woman tended to him, so perhaps his sleep had spanned hours only. At least something remained familiar. Zev smiled, wincing as his cracked lips bled. That, too, provided some perverse comfort.

Reaching for the prayer beads that had graced his neck since his ninth birthday, his left hand pulled up short against a length of chain that connected iron shackle to cot. Cold metal chaffed against the bare skin of his wrist. Bracing against the pain, he tried to shift his legs but they were shackled, too. This made no sense. How could he possibly pose a threat to anyone? So now, he was officially a prisoner. But of whom? And why?

The throbbing in his head made it difficult to focus, but he cast his mind back, struggling to remember how he had gotten to Rimland, but his memories were as fogged as the strange, moist air of their harbor. He was certain he had done nothing wrong and besides, Zev could appeal to his Embassy. So why did a nauseating cold coil in the pit of his stomach?

The door squealed open and Zev's heart raced. Had the woman returned? Perhaps he could reason with her, or convince her to let him speak with someone in authority.

"I am pleased you survived the night."

A low, controlled voice that gave little away filled the room. Zev cast his eyes in the Rimlander's direction, but he kept just out of view, as if he, too, knew what would happen if Zev attempted to move his head. Divine forgive him, but something deep inside ached for the pale woman and her traitorous touch. Heat pulsed in his groin and his face. He clenched his jaw letting pain wash away the shame of this weakness.

"By whose command am I held here?" Zev asked, in slow, precise Rimlish.

The man circled the room, careful to remain out of his sight, so that his disembodied voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Zev's nerves strained to follow him.

"I am a Tisreen national. I demand--"

"What is Ubiri planning?" the man interrupted.

Zev's mouth dried. Ubiri was Ambassador Ubiri. The last time he remembered seeing him had been years ago, at the Abul's grandson's nameday party. It was just before Ubiri had been assigned to head Rimland's Embassy. A rotund man, standing not much taller than Zev's shoulders, he had a hollow laugh and a horse-thief's eye. Something about his eyes and the way they stared at him pricked at Zev's fragmented memories. What was it about Ubiri that he had to remember?

"What is Ubiri planning?" The man had moved to stand just behind Zev's head and leaned forward to slowly repeat the question into his unbandaged ear.

His hot breath made the skin on Zev's neck prickle. He drew his eyebrows together. A brief image of Ubiri and a memory of shouting flickered through his mind, but he couldn't anchor it.

The blow slammed into Zev's head with the force of a stallion's kick. The room spun around him even as he knew his body lay rigid on the hard cot. Blood dripped like warm tears down the side of his face. He refused to cry out. His vision dimmed and his head pounded with every pulse of his heart.

"You will answer or you will die here, Tisreen. Alone and forsaken by your precious god."

 Zev's mouth twitched into a tight smile and he ignored the fresh flow of blood dribbling over his lip. The Divine would never forsake him. Even tied down and held prisoner in this unblessed land, even should he die at the hand of this vatashdi son-of-a-whore, the Eternal Oasis waited for him. Everlasting green and cool flowing water would nourish him beneath the wide tent of the bright sky.

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