Free The Terrorists of Irustan by Louise Marley

table and came to sit beside Zahra in the circle. She was pale, and blue shadows dragged beneath her eyes.
    Zahra looked at her with concern. “Haven’t you slept well?” she asked. She held Kalen’s wrist in her hand, and then laid her fingers against her friend’s forehead.
    The gentle touch made Kalen’s eyes fill, and her pale, freckled cheeks flushed an angry red. “1 haven’t slept at all,” she grated. “But really, I can’t talk about it now. Rabi ...” She looked over her shoulder at her daughter laughing with the other girls. The women’s eyes followed hers.
    Laila pressed her small hands to her face. “Not Rabi!” she moaned. “She’s not more than eleven, is she?”
    Kalen spoke through gritted teeth. “She’ll be twelve in two weeks,” she hissed. “Twelve! A baby still!”
    “Her menses?” Zahra asked softly.Kalen nodded. Zahra put out her hand to Kalen’s and found that it was knotted in a fist under the silk of her drape.
    Camilla said, “It’s terrible to see them growing up. I miss my Alekos so much! He’s thirteen—but still a little boy, just the same. He’s so small! But Leman insists on him going to the Doma. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” Tears welled in her eyes, too. “He still calls for me at night, can’t stand the dark. Leman makes him sleep in his own room just the same, and screams at me if I go to him.” She dabbed at her tears with the hem of her drape.
    The girls, playing at the side of the room, grew quiet, sensing the change of mood. They cast uneasy glances at the circle where the women sat. Rabi was tall and thin, like her mother, her hair the bright red of youth. Idora waved to the children, calling with forced gaiety, “Anything good to eat over there, rascals? Save some for me!”
    Idora’s two daughters waved back, crying noisy protests of keeping all the sweets to themselves. When Idora turned back to the circle, Kalen was struggling for control. Camilla held her hand tightly, and soft-hearted, tiny Laila said over and over, “Surely not, Kalen. Surely Gadil wouldn’t do that! So soon!”
    Kalen took a shuddering breath and looked down at her freckled hand in Camilla’s. When she looked up, her eyes had gone hard as blue pebbles beneath her damp red lashes. She said bitterly, “Samir wouldn’t do it, Laila. Your sons will have their childhood, for which you can give thanks to the Maker. But Gadil is in a great hurry to strut at Rabi’s cession!”
    The friends stared at each other. Tears slipped down Laila’s cheeks, but Kalen was a block of stone, her face flushing and then blanching, pale as one of the cells waiting on the hill.
    “It’s not just her age, either,” Kalen whispered bitterly.
    “What, then?” Idora asked. “What is it?”
    Kalen looked around the circle at her old friends, her cheeks burning. “He wants to cede her to Binya Maris.”
    A muffled gasp from Laila was the only sound made by any of the circle. Zahra released Kalen’s hand. Tension made her shoulders flare with pain, and anger burned her throat.
    Only Idora looked around, brows lifted high. “Who? Who’s Binya Maris?” Camilla reached for Kalen’s other hand. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard, Idora,” she whispered. “Binya Maris is Delta Team leader. We’ve all heard of him, because . . . because . . .” Gentle Camilla couldn’t bring herself to say it.
    Zahra, angry as she was, was taken aback by the fury in Kalen’s face. Her thin lips twisted, and the tendons of her neck stood out. Zahra felt some alarm at her appearance, and took hold of her hand again quickly, trying to gauge her pulse as unobtrusively as possible.
    “I’ll say it,” Kalen snapped. “Because two of his wives have died, that’s why. Because the men, Maker curse them, won’t talk about it, but all the women whisper of it.”
    “Died how?” Camilla exclaimed. Again the girls at the side of the room were quiet, and Idora waved to them, trying to put a