Apprentice (22 page)

“Dodi.” His whisper was urgent. “I must speak with you.”

I remained silent and concentrated on completing my task as fast as I could.

“Please, Dodi. It's important.”

I sighed with resignation. “Very well, I will meet you in the rose garden.”

I made no effort to eat quickly, and took some pleasure in observing Rami's increasing impatience. Finally I stood up and leisurely made my way outside. The roses were past their prime, but their fragrance still lingered.

“You are to visit on Second Day,” he said immediately. “I guarantee it.”

“Even if your mother isn't well?”

He gave me a proud smile. “I told Mother that I would come home to dine with the family after court that day. So even if she takes to her bed, you and I can visit with Achti and Ukva.”

I gazed at Rami with gratitude. He had challenged his mother on my behalf and won. “Oh, thank you.”

“So you're not…not angry anymore?” his voice pleaded.

I looked at Abba, who was pretending to examine some nearby flowers,
and shook my head in exasperation. “Don't worry. I'm not angry with you.” I emphasized the word “you.”

While I was pleased with Rami for standing up to his mother, I would reserve judgment until after I'd actually met with my sister.

True to his word, Rami was waiting outside his family's courtyard gate on Second Day. And inside, busy at her loom, was Achti. I ran to embrace her, noting with relief her pink cheeks and quick gait. She was the very picture of good health.

“Where's Pushbi?” I whispered, divulging my ambivalence at seeing my future mother-in-law.

“Oh, she'll be joining us soon.” Achti gave me a wink. “She couldn't abide us dining without her.”

“So how are you? How is married life?”

“Come.” She took me by the arm. “You must need to use the privy.”

I followed her to the far corner of the courtyard, afraid that her marriage was so awful that she needed to tell me privately. “Ukva is an excellent husband, but he is away supervising his lands much of the time…”

Achti hesitated so long that I had to prompt her. “And?”

“Pushbi is hateful,” Achti blurted out. “She treats the slave girls I brought as if they were hers, and I might as well be a slave myself the way she orders me around and won't let me do anything without her permission. She even feeds me like a slave, saving most of the meat for Ukva and Rami even though she has plenty of money to buy enough for all of us.”

“Ukva is the master of the house,” I said firmly. “That means you, his wife, are mistress here, not his mother.”

“Tell that to Pushbi. She keeps the keys and manages the money.” Achti spat in disgust. “All the time I spent learning how to keep accounts with Mariamme was wasted.”

“What does Ukva say about it?”

“I haven't complained to him yet,” Achti admitted. “I keep hoping he'll notice and say something to her himself.”

“Does Pushbi know Grandfather vowed that your husband gets no benefit from your lands?” I asked. “Maybe that's why she's unhappy with you.”

She stopped to think. “I'm not sure Ukva knows, although you'd think Father wouldn't arrange my betrothal without informing my husband
of something so vital.” She slipped her arm around me. “Let's not talk about Pushbi. What have you been doing?”

Achti was so fascinated with my amulet studies that I talked about them until Zahra waved for us to return. I didn't see how complaining to Ukva would help Achti at all; it would only force him into the unenviable position of having to choose between his wife and his mother. Rami had supported me because he didn't want me to repudiate our betrothal. After we were married, I'd have no such power, but that would be the same even if I married Abba.

Achti complained about being treated as a slave, but that's what a female was—first belonging to her father and then to her husband. Most women could only hope for kindness, but at least Achti and I had Grandfather's lands for protection.

Ukva had just arrived, and I waited while Achti washed his hands and feet. Then I took my seat and said amen after Ukva made the appropriate blessings. It felt strange to eat with so few people; whatever anyone said would be heard by all of us.

Rami shared the case he'd heard in court that morning, a complicated situation involving false witnesses. While everyone agreed that their evidence must be disregarded, the problem was whether that applied only to this one case or was evidence they'd given in earlier cases now tainted? And what about in the future—were they forever prohibited from acting as witnesses? Rami explained all the arguments very well, and I marveled at how eloquently he spoke when it wasn't just the two of us.

Achti was right about the meat, which was poorly seasoned and lacked salt. Since I could eat as much as I liked at home, I made a point of giving her my small portion. I could feel Pushbi's eyes boring into me and I prepared to explain why I'd refused her main course. But she said nothing about my actions. I grew increasingly uncomfortable. I was wondering if I could leave early instead of waiting until Rami decided it was time for him to return to Father's lectures, when I noticed that Achti brushed Ukva's arm as she refilled his cup.

I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a week since the full moon and Achti, regular as the moon itself, had always become
dashtana
just after it began to wane. I watched for any sign that Achti was avoiding physical contact with Ukva and then recalled that she had washed his feet when he came home.

But how was that possible? She should have been
niddah
, when intimacy between husband and wife was forbidden.

My heart leapt in exultation. Achti had to be pregnant. I commended myself for giving her my meat. Of course Achti wouldn't say anything; it was far too early. Perhaps she wasn't sure herself. But when it was finally time to leave, and I found a private moment to ask how long ago she'd immersed in the
mikvah
, her blushing cheeks were all the answer I needed.

I said nothing about my discovery, for fear of inciting the Evil Eye. Achti wasn't living under Father's roof anymore and had likely lost any protection his piety provided the rest of us, so I became determined to prepare an amulet for her and to deliver it without anyone knowing. Achti mustn't lose this pregnancy—and not only because of the joy a baby would bring her. Once Achti was a mother herself, Pushbi's place in the family hierarchy would have to change.

A few days later, I learned that I had less than a week remaining if I wanted to write Achti's amulet, for there would be a hiatus in my training at Kimchit's during the month of Tammuz. Of course there would be, I chided myself, for no one goes outside during that month between the fourth and ninth hours, when the heat is strongest and the demon Ketev Meriri is active. Just the thought of encountering the hideous thing, a huge flaming ball with one enormous eye, made me shudder.

Justice could not be delayed an entire month, however, so Father and his students would arrive in court well before the fourth hour and then stay beyond the ninth. But my training was not so important to risk exposing me to a demon so dangerous that a mere glimpse of it caused a person to collapse.

At first I considered waiting until after Tammuz to make Achti's amulet. But while discussing an entirely different topic with Kimchit, I found that delaying wasn't a good option either.

“Why does this mother keep buying new amulets?” I asked when I noticed that I was writing the exact same incantation I'd written for her only months before. “We both know that her son has been healthy the entire time.”

“Just because a child appears healthy, we can't assume that his amulet is still effective,” Kimchit replied. “Amulets lose power over time, since presumably they are fighting demons and illnesses on occasion.”

“How can anyone know when they need a new one?”

“Obviously a new amulet is necessary after recovering from an illness.”
Kimchit's voice grew somber. “But for a woman like our client, who has seen three of her four sons succumb, it is evident that her remaining boy is the target of powerful demons. His amulets, under regular attack, will weaken more rapidly.”

The poor child—all those awful
shaydim
assaulting him again and again. But then I had a less benevolent thought.

“How long do amulets usually last?” If even healthy people needed to buy new amulets periodically, inscribing amulets could be a lucrative business.

“Careful folks, and wealthy ones, replace them yearly, before Rosh Hashana.” Kimchit's tone made it clear that this was an admirable habit. “Others do so less often, usually to their regret.”

“You must get a good deal of business in Av and Elul,” I said. These were the months preceding the New Year.

“So much that all the most auspicious days and times are already spoken for,” she replied proudly.

“But I need to inscribe one for my pregnant sister.” My voice rose in alarm.

“Then you have one opportunity left before Tammuz begins, and luckily for your sister nobody has claimed it.”

I had no choice, for liliths might be closing in on Achti even now. Second Day at the fifth hour, under the influence of Michael, was when I'd write an amulet to protect her pregnancy. But that would leave me only three days to deliver it to her.

I
n the end I was forced to trust the amulet to Rami. As usual, I met him in the garden, and as usual, Abba was there to spy on us. Again I couldn't understand why Rami's presence filled me with joy while Abba's made me so uncomfortable.

“Rami, I need an important favor from you.” I hoped I sounded sufficiently piteous to stir his compassion. “Can you deliver something to Achti without anyone knowing, not even her slaves? Also without looking to see what it is or asking me any questions about it?”

“No questions at all, Dodi?”

I couldn't tell if he was serious or teasing me, so I assumed the latter. “This isn't very promising.” I playfully shook my finger at him. “The first thing you do is ask me a question.”

“So how can I know when to deliver this object or…uh, how to get it from you?” He grinned and added, “Oh no, I just asked more questions.”

“Will you do it, then?”

“As long as I don't have to lie to Mother or Ukva.”

“You shouldn't, especially if you are successful.”

“Is this item…I mean, I hope it's not very large.”

I smiled at how he'd avoided asking a question. “It will come in a linen bag, small enough to fit in your hand.”

“To be delivered as soon as possible, I assume.”

I nodded. “You needn't say anything to Achti when you give it to her. She'll know it's from me. But you must put it into her hand—don't just leave it among her things.”

He scratched his head in thought. “I'll do it just before Shabbat. Mother will be out shopping much of the day.”

Thankfully, nothing interfered with Rami fulfilling this task for me.

As summer came to a close, I began to suspect that Kimchit was using me, that she had no intention of teaching me the third amulet that would make me an expert. Not only was she collecting payment for the amulets I inscribed, but I would also be her solution to the problem of how her family could make their living once she was no longer able to write. Her sons and daughters-in-law prepared the physical parts of the amulets: the small pieces of papyrus or parchment, the wood or metal tubes, and the red ribbons and thread. But none of them were sufficiently literate to write an amulet.

The shorter the day, the more my frustration seethed. Once Sukkot was over, I wouldn't be training with Kimchit any longer. I'd return to inscribing bowls for Rahel, doing only occasional amulets when Kimchit was especially busy, and those I'd write at home. So I decided to confront her directly.

“Kimchit.” I made my voice as sweet as honey. “Are there any other amulet spells I can learn besides these two?”

I must have sounded too sweet because her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“My father says that to be an expert at writing amulets, the scribe needs to write three different kinds…”

I never got a chance to finish because Kimchit's eyes blazed. “Your father says…,” she fumed. “Just because he's a rabbi who knows kosher meat doesn't mean he knows about amulets. These rabbis are getting too arrogant, trying to regulate things that are none of their business.”

I cringed as she stomped around the room. “How dare he, or any rabbi, decide what makes an expert amulet scribe? Who made them authorities on the subject? I've been writing amulets for years, yet in his eyes I'm not an expert because I specialize in two types?” She was puffed up like an angry cat defending its territory from another feline. “And you, a girl who hasn't grown breasts yet, who has only been writing them a few months, would suddenly become an expert if you wrote three?”