Nebu stumbled down the smooth, flagstoned road, manacles biting into her ankles, copper links dragging, clinking in her wake. She looked a sorry mess, so much so that vultures might mistake her for carrion. She’d rather not go that way.

  She’d take something grander, something that could make it into a psalm.

  Better not to dwell on death. The thought frightens most people. At least, that’s what Nebu’s parents always said. How could she not think about it, though? Telling her not to do something made her want to do it more, and Nebu, being Nebu, wouldn’t pass up a challenge like that.

  Guards marched her along, and she struggled to keep pace with them. Gershen swordsmen, mercenaries. Nebu imagined herself wearing a horned helmet and wielding a deadly blade. She wouldn’t look as fierce as they did, but a girl could always dream.

  She passed through groves of myrrh, the air thick with cassia, nard, and balm. Along the roadsides, children—many younger than her—peered through gaps in lattice fences, following her as she passed.

  Nebu stared at the scars running the length of one guard’s face. “Nebu knows exactly how you got those scars. You were on a desert trek, far from home, weren’t you? That was when a sandstorm struck! You, brave as you are, fought to protect your caravan. But then—oh no! A wild cobra, as long as the eye can see, reared up and slashed across your face with its fangs. You barely escaped with your life! Nebu’s sure that’s how it went, but—”

  The guard backhanded her, sending her crashing to her side. Her mouth tasted bloody, and her palms stung from the landing. She was yanked to her feet and shoved forward. Though her face throbbed, the pain didn’t compare to the agony she’d felt when Sidoniya struck her.

  Nebu’s stomach churned when she thought about the Toraphite, how he’d doubled over and twisted into something inhuman. He must’ve fallen victim to Tohu, that arcane power sought by so many warriors. Just when she’d made another friend, too. She hadn’t even learned his name.

  Crossing Sidoniya had been foolish, perhaps deadly. What could Nebu do? Pray? Yes, pray for the best and stay silent. Bend your bow with patience, string it with prayer, and loose your arrows with faith. Wise words, but Nebu was a prisoner, and proverbs seldom broke chains.

  The guards halted their march, and Nebu stumbled to a stop with them. Something loomed before her, and the more she craned her neck, the more her jaw dropped.

  A ziggurat dwarfed surrounding buildings, its peak lost in the heavens. Its glazed bricks shimmered bright enough to burn one’s eyes, arranged in dizzying rainbow patterns. The structure defied reason, a jumble of steps, terraces, and zigzagging levels.

  Was this how they honored the gods here? Back home, the Most High cared little for such gaudy displays. The god Nebu knew was austere, severe. He desired devotion, perhaps a burnt offering or two, but nothing like this. Nebu wasn’t about to build such a thing. She was no mason, only a humble priestess.

  The nearest guard jabbed the back of Nebu’s knee with his spear, urging her up the steps. The sky shaded to orange here, purple there. Hezebel sank into shadow, another day slipping away. At this rate, she’d never find Tolah’s gift.

  What kind of friend would that make Nebu?

  The guards shoved her through an arched doorway on the fifth story, and the air on the other side felt lighter. Alabaster reliefs adorned the walls, alive with scenes of lovemaking. The saying ‘going Zebeline’ came to mind. Hezebel was passing strange, Nebu decided. Back home, there was no room for merrymaking. You did nothing without permission. Nothing fun, anyway.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The guards parted leopard-skin curtains at the end of the corridor, and Nebu took an unsteady step.

  Steam beclouded the next chamber. Nebu found it hard to breathe, feeling as if she were a fly trapped in amber. The soft trill of a pipe rose behind the haze, accompanied by the strum of a psaltery. Nebu strained to follow the melody, but a guard gripped her shoulders and steered her in the opposite direction.

  Fluted columns supported the ceiling. The floor sparkled with tiles of turquoise and mother-of-pearl. Servants lounged in baths, gossiping about petty matters. One praised a cupbearer who’d bedded seven women in the past week, and another mentioned a merchant who’d signed away his property to a she-goat.

  “Welcome, girl.” Sidoniya’s sweet, sultry voice. She dipped her feet into steaming water, seated gracefully at the edge of a bath. A maidservant anointed her with milk and honey, making her skin shimmer like burnished bronze. “You’ve much to answer for.”

  Nebu bowed. “Does this one get a bath?”

  Sidoniya flashed a cruel smile. “I’d love to wash you, paint your eyes with kohl, and take you into my bedchamber, but that’s not why you’re here. You know something, and I want to know it too.”

  “Nebu knows many things indeed. She can name every flower in the world. Has Your Excellency ever seen the tiger lily? It’s the most delicate, exquisite—”

  “Silence.” Sidoniya gathered her long, black tresses and wrung them out over the bathwater with a languid grace. “Why are you in Hezebel?”

  “Everywhere else smelled of dung and hay,” Nebu said. “Hezebel smelled of myrrh and frankincense, Your Excellency.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Mefithys.”

  “You’re no Mefithine.”

  “This one is a proud Baphomite.”

  Sidoniya plucked a green quince from a straw basket, then lifted it to her mouth. Her lips parted to reveal the glint of her teeth. “Proud? Your people are slaves, like the Toraphites.”

  “Slaves now, but not forever, Your Excellency.”

  “Maybe not,” Sidoniya said, chewing thoughtfully. “How long have you been a thief?”

  “Nebu’s no thief.”

  “Then why did you steal those ingots? Did the Toraphite put you up to it?”

  “He… no. What Nebu means to say is—”

  “You’re a poor liar, girl. Worse, you’ve soured my friendship with the Artificers. Now they think Hezebel is a den of thieves. I need them, you insolent little whelp. Without their charity, Hezebel would crumble. Do you think I like admitting that?”

  Nebu swallowed. “Forgive this one.”

  Sidoniya flung the bitten quince over her shoulder without looking. “That’s asking much of me.”

  “Forgive the donkey too,” Nebu added. “The Toraphite.”

  Sidoniya’s neck, so elegant and swanlike, tightened. “He’ll be dealt with soon enough. Tell me what you know about Yasha.”

  Nebu tilted her head. “Yasha?”

  “Yes,” Sidoniya cooed like a lovebird, a hand pressed to her chest. “Sweet Yasha.”

  “Nebu doesn’t know any Yasha.”

  The queen shook her head. “Like I said, a poor liar. You’re another of Yasha’s disciples. Don’t deny it.”

  “Nebu serves the Most High, Your Excellency.”

  Sidoniya raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, girl, how many fingernails must I remove before you tell the truth?”

  “Please, believe Nebu,” Nebu begged, sinking to her knees. “She doesn’t know anything about Yasha. Truly!”

  One of the guards yanked a fistful of Nebu’s hair, tugging her head back. “Don’t lie to Her Excellency.”

  “Enough,” Sidoniya said, and the guard unhanded Nebu. “You’re plainly unworthy of Yasha, girl. Why would he choose you?”

  “Nebu has nothing to do with Yasha or the Toraphite. She’s here to find a gift for Tolah, her friend. A necklace of black pearls that can only be found in Hezebel. That’s why she took the ingots. Forgive this one’s insolence!”

  Sidoniya’s eyes flashed with something terrible. She balled her fists, and her maidservants stepped back. “A gift? You come here searching for a gift? And yet you’d dare to be Yasha’s disciple? You’ve learned nothing from him!”

  Nebu stumbled back, bumping into the guards.

  Sidoniya slid into the bath like a sleek lioness, ripples of water distorting her form. “Yasha is mine. No one else shall have him.”

  “Nebu doesn’t want him! He’s yours!”

  “Take her to the dungeon. We’ll pluck the truth from her one tooth at a time.”

  “Please, Your Excellency!” Nebu cried as the guards dragged her away by the armpits. “Nebu’s innocent! She doesn’t know anything!”