those roles meant nothing. Here was the place to run wild.
By not exposing their identities or this place, they ensured that they would be able to run in safety when their beasts broke free on full-moon nights. In the city, they kept each other’s secret; they were part of the same tribe of the cursed.
Some relished this time. The palace guard stripped off his tunic and turned to the moon, low on the horizon. His face, awash in silver light, grew longer, a snout formed where his mouth had been, and sharp fangs emerged. Before their eyes he became a wolf. With a gleeful bark, he ran away, claws digging into the earth.
He shut his eyes. “I hate this,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Fighting it makes it worse,” said Suza. She pulled her tunic over her head and dropped it. A sheen of brindled fur was growing on her naked skin.
Around them writhed half men, half beasts, the images of a dozen false idols.
Daniel dropped to his knees.
“Oh Lord my God, I am Your servant, and by Your power I bear this burden. By Your will I carry this curse. By Your mercy I do not fear. Oh God. Help me bear this burden.”
Where Suza had been, a leopard stood, stretching her body, flicking her long tail. She jumped, kicking her feet as if for joy, graceful as a dancer. Then she ran.
Bones melting to a different form, skin stretching, a coat of tawny fur sprouting—Suza was right, fighting it made it worse. But he fought. Every month, every full moon, he fought.
And lost. He changed. His lion’s roar echoed in the night.
When folk of the city heard the howls of creatures in the dark, they huddled in their houses, safe in their tribes, and prayed to their animal-shaped gods for protection. If the doors stayed barred and the fires stayed lit, they had faith their gods would protect them. People prayed, because it made them feel safe.
The beasts hunted, then returned to the oasis to sleep.
Daniel started from a nightmare, his eyes growing wide all at once, his breathing fast and panicked. There had been blood. He could taste it. Gazelle. He would have to purify himself after this ordeal and pray for forgiveness.
“Hush, Daniel. You’re safe.” Suza put her hand on his shoulder.
Groaning, he rested his head on a pillow of grass. His body was his own again. Naked, he was tucked in the hollow under a leafy thicket. Dawn was close. The sky was gray and chill.
Suza propped her head on her hand and watched him. Her hair was tangled in a halo around her face, her eyes shadowed and weary, her smile amused.
She smoothed his hair behind his ear. “Good morning.”
“At least it’s morning.”
“You sound surprised.”
He stared up at the tangled pattern the tree’s branches made. “I’m afraid that one day the lion will not leave me. That I won’t wake up.”
She kissed his forehead and whispered nonsense sounds of comfort.
He continued, “The others who were captured with me when Babylon invaded Jerusalem, they said, ‘Why has God done this to us? Why has He punished us like this?’ But I knew. God sent me here to be an example, to show the empires of idols what it is to be a servant of God. To show them the wisdom of God, so that they might understand.
“But this—this, I don’t understand. I have faith, I
“Don’t look for reason from a god. The gods are petty, they act on whims, and we are their playthings.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then perhaps your god did this so that we might meet and become friends. Would we have, otherwise? You a Hebrew and me a Persian, you a respected counselor and me a courtesan?”
She sounded so matter-of-fact, he couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t know, Suza.”
Somehow, as they did every month, they found their clothing, dressed, returned to the city and pretended that they were normal, that they had no affinity for the clawed and fanged statues that populated the city, that watched them from every street.
In his quarters, Daniel prayed, kneeling on bare tile toward the west, toward Jerusalem. The prayer fumbled—on these mornings his faith was weakest. He did not belong to the Hebrew tribe of his forefathers, of his God. He belonged to a tribe he hated, and when he searched for the reasons, his mind was empty. He was used to God answering him with some flash of reason.
He washed and dressed and made his way to the palace of Darius.
The business of the day had already started, earlier than usual. The other advisers were in a flurry, clustered around the king. Not even noon, and they were urging Darius to some action. Across the room, Daniel’s keen sometimes-lion’s ears heard the whispers:
“Sire, it is dangerous to put faith in people who have no faith in you.”
“Sire, this law will curb the influence of foreigners on your glorious empire.”
“Sire, it will protect your own power.
The king had a clay tablet before him, which a moment later he stamped with his seal. A couple of the advisers chanced looks at Daniel. Their smiles were cold.
Then the new law was read aloud. “‘Those who beseech any god shall be put to death. All faithful citizens of the empire shall rightfully seek boons from one being alone, the person of His Most Divine Majesty. All other prayers are unworthy and condemned.’”
Daniel was famous for his piety. The advisers wrote this law and persuaded His Majesty to endorse it for one reason only: to incriminate Daniel.
Suza, clothed in her silk tunic and jewelry, stepped beside Daniel. Her face was still as stone, but her eyes showed fear. “Surely your god will forgive you if you forsake him for this little time, until the king’s whim changes.”
“Every morning I pray. Every evening I pray. That is right and just. In fact, I feel I must pray now. If you’ll excuse me.” He would show them true faith, as he believed he came here to do.
“Daniel—”
He returned to his chamber, to the window that faced west over the city, toward the Promised Land, and he prayed.
He knew he could be seen, knew his enemies would be watching. He almost taunted them. When, no more than a dozen breaths later, the king’s soldiers splintered the wood of his door, he was not surprised and did not flinch. He went quietly, prepared to be a martyr.
For defying the king’s edict against prayers, he was arrested. By royal decree he was convicted. He was marched under guard down the street, toward whatever death the advisers planned for him. King Darius, carried on his litter and flanked by his advisers, led the procession. Frowning, he kept his gaze above the crowd, to the stone of the walls, and seemed unmoved.
At the gate outside the city, Daniel saw Suza, standing on her toes to better see over the crowd. He decided to look strong, to impart some comfort to her, for he expected to see her upset at his predicament, and was astonished and confused when she was not.
Rather, she wore a smile, thin and puckered as if she was trying to hide it. Her eyes were shining, and she waved to him. He learned later that she had discovered what method of execution was planned for him, and she had no fear at all.
The lid was shut over the pit, the light went out, and the only sensations Daniel could discern were the thick, musky scent of lions and the echoing sound of their breathing. He crouched at the base of the ramp and listened to
