Wrists bound and chafing beneath the corded rope, Ahsan listened to Sippar’s Assembly drone on about his father’s crimes. The ones they knew of, at least. His father stood before its members, themselves upon a dais and shaded by a navy tarp. Its beaded edges hung down like the beginnings of rainfall dribbling off eaves. To each side was a temple guard. Spilling out of the temple buildings and into the courtyard were students and scribes, and closest to the entrance of the holy complex were civilians. Even if Ahsan did not appreciate being gawked at, he couldn’t blame the people for their curiosity. Most days, Shamash’s temple oversaw little more than tax hearings and land endowments.
After being dragged from his father’s house to the temple of Shamash, Ahsan had been kept under strict wat
