Read Online Word Fulfilled, The by Bruce Judisch - Free Book Online

daughter!”
    “What are you talking about?” Mordac tried to pull loose from Hani’s grasp.
    “Ianna is to be a priestess! They’re keeping her there! Do you hear me? Our daughter is never . . . coming . . . home!” Her fists pummeled her husband’s chest with each of her choked words. He grasped her arms as she collapsed into sobs.
    “Ianna . . . is . . . dead to us.” A wail choked in her throat, and she fainted.
     
     
    Mordac held his limp wife by the arms, still unsure of what just happened. Then he remembered the girl.
    “Can you tell me what—”
    The door closed, and the girl was gone.
     
    Lll
    Issar-surrat slipped the pale blue tunic over Ianna’s head and the naditu ceremony was over.
    “May you thrive in the service of Mother Ishtar.” The High Priestess’s lips curled in a half smile. She glanced at Hulalitu, who stood with the other naditu priestesses in the cella of Ishtar’s temple. Hulalitu kept her eyes downcast during the entire ritual. So did Ianna, as she stood naked before the audience of priestesses until Issar-surrat incanted the homily of dedication and bestowed on her the tunic of her new status. Such public nudity would normally have been an unbearable embarrassment for her. Today, though, even the open exposure of her body failed to penetrate the stupor of dread at her induction into temple service.
    She stared at the smooth floor of the ceremonial chamber, where her ishtaritu initiation ceremony had taken place—the euphoria of that ritual replaced by the disconsolation of this one. Issar-surrat turned on her heel and retreated to the rear of the room to supplicate before the statue of Ishtar. The white tunic that had served as Ianna’s public wardrobe for the past three months lay flat at her feet, her hopes of returning home to a normal life lying with it.
    The convocation of priestesses quietly broke up. Only the muted swish of their tunics and brush of sandaled feet over the floor broke the stillness. Ianna remained where she stood. The faces of her mother and father hovered in her mind, her father’s more faintly than her mother’s. The niche where she slept as a child loomed in the background of the vision. She knew her belongings—trinkets, memorabilia, her favorite woolen blanket—still lay neatly on her bed mat. Her mother’s cheerful summons to breakfast resonated through her mind’s ear, her father’s guttural cough less so. Tears brimmed in her eyes. The images of the past vanished at the click of the latch on the cella door.
    Ianna heaved a sigh and raised her eyes. The room was empty, but for herself and one other naditu. She looked at Hulalitu without expression. Her former mentor beheld her with an equally empty stare. After several moments of silence, Hulalitu cleared her throat.
    “There will be duties to learn. I can help . . .” She bit her lip.
    Ianna said nothing. She brushed a wisp of hair from her face and curled it behind her ear. She folded her hands in front of her and padded across the room to the chamber door. She felt Hulalitu’s eyes bore through her as she passed but did not meet her gaze.
    “Ianna . . .”
    The door latched behind Ishtar’s newest naditu, and the hall was silent.
     
     
    Hulalitu took a deep breath to stifle a sob. She had intended to keep Ianna for only a week, maybe two. As the weeks came and went, though, she delayed Ianna’s release for one more day, then another. She rationalized just one more measure of camphor powder; each dose was to be the last. But the beautiful young ishtaritu initiate had infected her, and there was no help for it. Life in the temple for Hulalitu was unimaginable without Ianna. She could care for the girl, yes, even better than her own family, she was sure of it. She suppressed the memories of the times she had denied Ianna’s mother when she came to inquire about Ianna. Her mind blocked out the ashen pallor of helplessness in the woman’s face, the haunted look in her eyes, and the