She sat on the mattress. The room was silent. There was no noise that entered. It was like staying in a tomb.
She laughed without humor.
It may be silent, but the room smelled. It smelled of other people, of stale air. She wondered how many people had been in here. How many people had the Seniors put to death? What were the crimes?
She wondered if she were the first who ever killed a Senior. It couldn’t be. With the way that women were treated, she was certain that many females took revenge on their masters. The thought comforted her somehow. She felt part of the many women who had defended themselves and their gender against the oppressive life that had been forced on them.
She thought of Joaquin. She would have gladly served him, she realized. She would have done anything for him, be
