The procuress settled herself on the floor along with the two younger women and took some dried fruit for herself. "We will have to explain your return to the Holy Mother. She was furious with me when she found you were gone."
"Not because she cares for me," said Nasreen. "Her hatred for all of us who serve in the brothel is obvious to anyone."
"She cares for all the people of the temple," said the procuress. "She will make sure to keep everyone alive by any means necessary. I know it is difficult to understand, especially for ones as young as you both, but she has nothing else left but those who dwell here. She swore an oath to become mother to every priestess, every acolyte, every priest, every scribe, even those who serve tables and scrub floors within this holy building. She is our mother. And she will do whatever she can to make sure every one of us is taken care of."
"Then she should be relieved I have returned from the palace alive and well," said Nasreen.
"She will be relieved. But she may also be angry," said the procuress.
"How is any of this Nasreen's fault?" asked Aisha. "Nasreen did nothing wrong. It is not her fault some prince saw how wonderful she is! We already must hide behind veils and never look a man in the eye. It is not fair that we are not allowed to be what we are. How are we responsible for what they think and feel?"
"You are right," said the procuress. "It is not fair. It is wrong. But the world belongs to the Locusts now. Nasreen's beauty is like a lantern left outside on a summer's night, attracting hoards of pests. In times past, we could shine like the sun, moon, and stars, high out of the reach of the insects. But they found a way in, and now we must hide our faces. And even then it is not enough."
"How can we live like this?" asked Nasreen. "I thought we could teach these men of love and kindness and the virtues of the Lady. I thought if I served, I could help heal their souls. But all they do is take."
"I do not know, child," said the procuress. "There are no answers. The Lady hid her children upon her plateau, but they found us. We tried to fight, but they were too strong. There is nowhere to flee. All we have left is to obey them and pray for deliverance."
Nasreen shook her head, her voice dripping with contempt and disgust. "We obey only so they kill us at a slower rate. In the end is a life like this worth the humiliation?"
Aisha felt the anger and hatred coming off Nasreen in waves. Nasreen, the same Nasreen who willingly sacrificed her body for her friends. The one who comforted Aisha when no one else cared, who joked and smiled and laughed and hoped and planned for the future.
"You are both very young," said the procuress. "You are too young to understand the risks. We must preserve all the lives of the Lady's children no matter the cost."
"That is not true," whispered Aisha. "Some lives are more valuable than others."
"What do you mean, child?" asked the procuress. "Of course it is true."
"What about the men who died with King Pytr?" asked Aisha. "Or the street people? Or the oracle?"
"Or the Narim," added Nasreen. "What about our kin in the desert? Aisha is right. We only seem to care for the Lady's children who live within the walls of the temple."
"You are both very tired," said the procuress. "And we all should be in bed. No more questions tonight. Come, I will let you through to the women's quarters. We will talk with the Holy Mother tomorrow, but for your sakes, I hope your tempers have cooled by then."
The first rays of morning sun filtered through the commander's tent walls, signaling Zayaan it was time to rise and prepare to serve breakfast for the highest ranking officers. He rolled over in his bed, knocking pillows to the floor. He never thought he would prefer the rickety cot in the tent he shared with other recruits to a warm, semiprivate room and a soft place to lay but he did. He found himself unable to sleep sunk inside cushions with sounds of the desert camp deadened behind thicker walls. It left him anxious of attackers’ footsteps muffled by floor coverings, of being unable to react and rise from his tangle of blankets before a killing blow caught him unaware.
His night watches at the western outpost abruptly came to an end the same day the camp's commander informed him of his sudden change in fortune. Zayaan had yet to adjust to sleeping during the nights, much less his new environment. The desert was familiar. Dealing with the politics of the camp's officers was not. Their world was full of unspoken rules and secret intrigues of which he was unaware.
He dragged himself out of bed and pulled on the black linen pants and tunic of his new uniform. He tied the red sash bearing the sign of the locust around his waist, and pulled on uncomfortable black boots, still too tight in their newness. If he ventured outside the tent for more than a few hours, his clothing would be covered with enough dust he would appear almost like any other recruit. But in the last week he had not left the tent, spending his days confined with the commander listening to the gossip of the other officers.
A life inside the fortified walls of the palace was beginning to feel like hope, instead of a place from which he must rescue his sister. Takri had done well for himself there, ingratiating himself to the Locust King. Takri’s treachery earned him a safe place to sleep behind thick walls and his own private quarters. Takri ate the finest food prepared by servants who waited on him hand and foot. Zayaan doubted he spent his days trapped in a tent making tea for a gossiping old man.
Once Zayaan took his place at the palace, maybe sleep would come. And when it did, maybe the nightmares would fade.
Anything would be better than the camp. Once he knew his sister was safe, he could rest. If only for a short time. It wouldn't be forever.
But he was so tired.