Enheduanna: The First Author - Wattys Winner 2021

25. Confession To The Dead

Useless. I felt so utterly useless. If only I could go out as well and look for Idal, assist Dingira in any way. Perhaps it was even better if I had an army of my own or any way to defend myself and the ones I held dear. Because the knowledge that there was nothing I could do but pace around and wait was killing me.

"Have you slept at all?" Kituzda stood in the archway, a platter of food in her hand while the rising sun sat, her hair ablaze. Though her question was one of concern, her tone was frigid.

"How can I sleep when my stuart is nowhere to be found?"

Frigidness melted to a warm understanding as she placed the bread on the table before me. "Shula informed me that Idal was missing. We are all worried sick, but I am sure he is alright."

She didn't believe that. The quiver in her voice told me as much. There was something she was hiding.

"Get some rest, Enheduanna. You need to be well-rested for the New Moon ceremony."

Resuming my constant pacing throughout the room, I let out a frustrated sigh. "I cannot. A hymn must still be composed in the honour of Nanna."

"This one seems suitable." Kituzda studied one of the re-written tablets with puzzled interest. "It's almost too traditional to be of your hand."

"That I don't always agree with the traditions of the high priestess, does not mean that I don't respect them."

Kituzda's curious interest shifted to me, snake-like eyes studying me as she handed me the milk. "If only I had known that sooner."

The milk was sweeter than usual. Its aftertaste lingered of camomile and something else that made my eyes too heavy to keep open, a cloud of drowsiness dragging over my mind right before my body submitted to slumber.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lost for a moment. The open ceiling told me I was still within the Giparu, but I did not remember getting into bed. Nor did I remember laying out my bejewelled breastplate and horned crown on the chair beside me.

"Good, you are awake," Kituzda said with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. She placed a cup by my side, "drink this."

I starred at the cup, "I'm not drinking anything from your hands anymore."

A small wheeze erupted from the fire-haired priestess. "It was just milk with camomile and valerian root. You needed to sleep, a tired high priestess is of no use to anyone."

"You could have still informed me," I argued.

"You would not have taken it." Kituzda retorted.

She was right. Had I known there was valerian root in the milk, I would have never taken it but that didn't mean she could simply withhold the information from me. In silent resentment, I let Kituzda bind me into the breastplate and comb my hair before we made our way to the house of great light.

Unlike the last time, the streets seemed suspiciously empty. Only a few merchants and farmers presented themselves to bring offerings to the new moon, and no matter how long I searched, neither Idal nor Dingira appeared in the crowd.

Standing beneath the hole in the ceiling as the sun was setting the sky ablaze, I released a sigh, hoping to shake off some worry.

It did not help.

I was surrounded by all the other priestesses, yet I felt utterly alone. My ears could not hear their voices, nor could my eyes focus on any of their faces.

"O house of jewelled lapis and fragrant herbs fleck the shining bed. Heart-soothing place of the Lady of the Steppe," I sang, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Nanna, your brickwork of night is glistening and pure, it is like burnished clay placed firmly on the earth. Your sky-rising wall sprawls over the high plain for the one who tends the ewes and for the shepherd who walks the fields."

As I took another breath, the wind was knocked out of me. My head collided with the floor, my was chest pressed down by a person with hair like fire.

Throughout the room, screams of chaos erupted and before I could fathom what was going on, Shula pulled me to my feet as Kituzda shoved me towards the pillars. An almost silent flash passed narrowly over my head, piercing the wall behind me. As my gaze followed it, the objects became clear. A silver-headed arrow edged itself within the stone.

An arrow that was meant for my head.

My eyes stayed focused on the arrow as Kituzda pulled me down the stairs, nearly crushing my hand in her grip. She didn't stop running. Winding through the corridors and back ways of the temple complex without catching a breath. It wasn't until a hooded man crossed our path in the pillared hall that she stopped. Shielding me from the man with her body.

The man threw his hands up, but even in the low light of night I could see there was something small between his fingers.

"Not a step further," Kituzda hissed. "You are on holy ground. Nanna will curse you for the blood you'll shed here."

"I mean no harm, priestess," the man cried out, kneeling down as he did. "I bring you this."

Kituzda shovelled closer, hesitantly taking the thing from his hands. Her knees gave out and from her lips came the most hysterical crying, screaming sobs only interrupted by the need to draw breath. It was a primal sound, drawing me to her side. Prying the objects from her shaking hands, I inspected the cylindrical identification seal. It was Idal's seal.

"Where is he? What have you done with him?"

The man pushed his lips into the dust. "I only found him, high priestess. I have not harmed him. I swear it upon An himself."

"Bring us to him."

"My Great Lady," the man stuttered, "he has passed to the land of no return."