13
IZRAMITH RETURNED to the guesthouse not much later. By this time, she felt so sweaty that she had another bath. She sat enveloped by the soothing warmth of the water, breathing its faint scent of sulphur. A single glow bulb on a shelf cast a fitful light over the surface. Ethereal curls of steam rose and evaporated.
If she sat very still and held her breath, the water would go smooth as glass, with only occasional ripples from where the bath was constantly being replenished through the aqueduct that came into the room through a square opening in the wall.
If she held her breath, went under water, and stayed there long enough, the surface would forever be still, and her soul would be at rest in the depth where the light didn’t reach. And Daya would simply write to the guards and hire
