“A Trial of Ordeal?” Dagan strained against his ropes, his face twisting in pain. “That’s for criminals who’ve said”—he gasped—“they didn’t commit the crime of which they’re accused. We haven’t been accused of a crime!”

Gudanna held her belly and grimaced. “Yes, you have. You’re accused of lying to a ruler about the whereabouts of that brat Arwia. But if you tell the truth, that the nin really is dead, you won’t die in the trial. Selu will save you.” She looked up into Uruku’s sickly face. “So which should we choose? The drowning?”

I closed my eyes. The drowning trial meant that we would be tossed into the river Garadun with our arms and legs bound. If we were able to keep ourselves afloat for a day, we’d prove our innocence and be rescued. But if we drowned, it proved our guilt. Nobody was ever proven innocent in that trial.

“No.” Gudanna’s hand absently rubbed her abdomen as she argued with herself, and a line appeared between her brows. The beginning of labor? “I think not. I should think two strong young men like the farmer and the guardsman over there should have a better trial than that. One that utilizes their strength.”

Uruku’s sunken face brightened. “Indeed, wife. You’re correct, as always. We should have them battle in the Pit.”

“Battle what? Lions? Tigers?” Gudanna rubbed her belly, looking around the cavernous throne room as if drawing inspiration from the nature scenes painted on the ceiling and walls.

From the corner, Nasu barked a note of surprise as Assata stumbled against him. He made a move as if to try to catch her with his tied hands, but she crumpled in a heap. She raised her head, appearing to be woozy, and scrabbled against the wall as if trying to get up.

Shiptu stared down at her in despair.

Uruku and Gudanna contemplated the situation; then Uruku pointed to one of the guardsmen near Assata. “Take her out back and finish her. She’s been as useful as she can be.”

My heart sank as they dragged her away, kicking and biting, and I gritted my teeth at my inability to save her or us or anyone else. I was completely useless.

Uruku stuck his hands on his lean hips, going back to the question at hand as if sending someone to their ancestors wasn’t anything more than a nuisance.

“No, not tigers or lions, my sarratum. I think it best that they battle each other, don’t you? The guardsman and the farmer, fighting to demonstrate who is honest and who is not? These two here”—he pointed to Iltani and me—“can watch with us. Perhaps when they see that one of their own has been slaughtered by another friend’s hands, they’ll cooperate.”

“We won’t do it.” Nasu, like Dagan, strained against his chains. “I’ll never fight him.”

“Yes, you will.” Uruku smiled almost gleefully, turning away from the three of us. “For every minute you do not fight, I’ll cut off a finger from one of these two young women.”