He Who Lifts the Skies (19 page)

As instructed, the tradesmen approached Keren in an orderly line. Halting, the lead tradesman bowed to her. Presenting Keren with numerous swatches of beaten leather, thin leather cords, a blade of obsidian, and a piece of brownish-orange ochre, the tradesman requested that she use the ochre to trace the outlines of her hands and feet on separate swatches of leather. Then she must allow her attendants to measure her throat, her head, her arms, her ankles, her wrists, and her height with the slender leather cords, cutting each cord to the appropriate length.

Keren blinked at the tradesman’s request. Looking up at Nimr-Rada, she asked, “Please, why am I being measured?”

“You are like poison, Lady,” Nimr-Rada answered, pleasantly vindictive. “Therefore we must make your apparel
conspicuous.”

Keren looked down. Her measurements were obtained with minimal whispers of advice from the tradesmen and from her nervous attendants. Ra-Anan leaned back on his heels, satisfied by the discipline of the entire procedure. Nimr-Rada, too, seemed somewhat pacified.

When the tradesmen had gathered all their swatches, cords, and gear, Nimr-Rada dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Raising his voice, he told Keren, “You and your household may go, Lady. You will receive other instructions later today.”

Immediately, all the members of Keren’s household folded their hands before themselves in the properly respectful manner and bowed. All except Keren. Her spirit was admirable, Ra-Anan decided, but she had been defiant enough for the day. He leaned toward his young sister, glaring at her, willing her to bow.

Perfectly calm, she lifted her chin at him and flung an unmistakable look at Nimr-Rada:
You will have to kill me
.

With silent, breathtaking audacity, she turned and walked out of the courtyard. Her attendants and guards hurried after her, unsettled. Ra-Anan exhaled heavily. Was she incredibly foolish, or exceptionally brave? Aloud he said, “She should be punished for such rudeness. Shall I send for her again and insist that she bow?”

“No,” Nimr-Rada growled. Clearly incensed, he rested one bare, gold-ankleted dark foot atop Tselem, a particularly favored leopard who dominated the others. “Let her believe she has won for now. We will find ways to control her behavior.”

“She is such a fool,” Sharah complained. “How can she be my sister?”

Nimr-Rada smiled absently and flicked at Sharah’s
gleaming, pale braids. “I have heard that she voices the same question when she speaks of you, my Sharah. She is not as loyal to you as she is toward your deceitful brothers.” Before Sharah could respond, Nimr-Rada looked at Ra-Anan, one black eyebrow raised. “Will you beg leniency for your unworthy brothers? I believe your sister asked this of you last night.”

Ra-Anan shrugged, refusing to be surprised. Nimr-Rada had planted informant-servants among Ra-Anan’s household—a fact that Ra-Anan sometimes used to his own advantage. “My Lord, I told my foolish young sister that—perhaps—when my brothers appreciate your kindness toward them, you might restore them to their former places. But that is entirely subject to your will. Why should I plead for their sakes when they betrayed us? My sisters could have been brought to the Great City years ago, for your benefit.”

“Which would have made me perfectly happy,” Sharah crooned, tracing one colorless finger down the sinewy contours of Nimr-Rada’s arm. Shifting, Nimr-Rada caught Sharah’s wandering fingertips and held them firmly. Sharah straightened, flushing, watching Nimr-Rada. He still seemed preoccupied with Keren.

“Let us consider her weaknesses,” he said, grazing a foot across Tselem’s spotted hide, causing Tselem to stretch languidly. “How is she most vulnerable?”

“She’s devoted to those Ancient Ones,” Sharah said disdainfully, her gray eyes following the movements of Nimr-Rada’s foot over the leopard’s wonderfully speckled hide. “She will hear nothing against them.
They
are why she won’t bow to anyone.”

“Then we must not speak against the Ancient Ones directly,” Nimr-Rada decided. “Rather, we should let time
erase the superstitious influences of those old storytellers.”

“You are wise, my Lord,” Ra-Anan agreed, pleased because Nimr-Rada’s decision reflected his own thoughts. “To say anything against those old people would merely prolong her rebellion. However, if she rebels further, we should punish others to gain her submission—her attendants, for example; they already seem devoted to her. What of her guards?”

“Zehker and Lawkham?” Nimr-Rada pursed his full lips thoughtfully. “They have been in my own household almost continually since they were children. I have tested them time and again; except for their secrecy in obedience to their commander, Neshar, they have always proven themselves loyal to me.”

“That Zehker is more strict than our father,” Sharah grumbled. “Also, he has never liked Keren. Or anyone.”

“He is one of my best guardsmen,” Nimr-Rada said, as if to forestall any further complaints from Sharah regarding Zehker. “He will stay in her household. And Lawkham is the son of one of my brother’s sons. He will stay, provided he does not forget his place. At times, he takes too much upon himself.”

“Perhaps we should add new members to her household,” Ra-Anan suggested. “Ones who are loyal only to you, my Lord.”

“Good,” Nimr-Rada agreed. “I want to know everything she says and does. Her every breath. And, of course, I will unsettle her at every turn.…”

Ra-Anan was pleased by Nimr-Rada’s reaction. And he noticed that Sharah was now smoldering, her glistening lashes lowered. She was jealous of Keren. Perfect. He could use that jealousy against both sisters to crush and
reform their spirits. Then they would become everything he envisioned. No other women alive would compare to them—particularly where Nimr-Rada was concerned.
Let my sisters be his weakness
.

Eleven

BEWILDERED, KEREN stared at the heap of gear that Lawkham and Zehker had piled in her courtyard. Oddly shortened wooden combs, tough grass cordage, blades of obsidian and flint, retouching tools, a clay pot of resin, sinew, feathers, ointments, a collection of soft swatches of leather, and a long ashwood spear. In addition, she saw the unmistakable makings of their favored weapons—their bows and arrows—consisting of a handful of slender wooden rods, unstrung bow staves made of yew, and a long, thin pouch of leather stiffened by slim rods stitched along its sides. “What is all this?”

“Orders,” Zehker said. “For your horse, and for hunting.”

“As soon as you’ve learned to use weapons properly, you will be hunting with our Great King every day,” Lawkham informed Keren.

“Every day? But why?”

Lawkham shrugged. “Dear Lady, there are only two reasons our He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies will take anyone hunting: either you are an exceptional hunter, or he intends to ‘guide’ you until you comply with his wishes.” Quizzically birdlike and cheerful, he asked, “Are you an exceptional hunter?”

Frustrated, Keren shook her head. Like most women, she was reasonably adept at fishing, and at netting or snaring small game. Some women enjoyed hunting with their families for larger creatures, but that pastime had never appealed to Keren. Now she was being forced to accept it until she complied with Nimr-Rada’s wishes—and that would never happen. She fumed, “So, I’m going to make weapons and follow that Nimr-Rada for the rest of my life!”

Zehker gave her a warning look as Lawkham coughed.

“Lady,” Lawkham muttered beneath his breath, “never use such a tone of voice in reference to the Great King. Not with all these strange ears listening.”

Keren swallowed and glanced around the open courtyard, realizing that some of her new guardsmen and servants were hovering nearby, occupied with irrelevant tasks. They had heard everything. They would tell Nimr-Rada and Ra-Anan; Keren couldn’t stop them. She had no say over anything in her life now, and it infuriated her. For her brothers’ sake, however, she had endured all these new, sly-eyed faces, the strictly controlled routines of her days, the strange food, and the new tunics of pale cloth—such as the one she was wearing—which felt so insubstantial compared to the good, long, sturdy fleece and leather tunics and leggings she had worn since childhood.

But now, by one thoughtless comment, she risked subjecting her brothers to further punishments—a threat Ra-Anan
had been using against her these three weeks since her arrival. Aloud, she apologized to Zehker and Lawkham. “You are right to correct me. I was rude to speak of the Great King in such a way. Now, please explain why I need all this gear.”

To her dismay, they settled down for the warm, humid afternoon, teaching her how to string her bow stave with cordage. How to smooth the arrow. How to notch the arrow. How to ensure that the arrow flew straight to its target like a bird, with the fletching of resin-and-sinew bound feathers straightening its path. And how to fasten the flint tip of the arrow with resin and sinew, giving it deadly strength.

Keren gritted her teeth through the whole ordeal. She would have preferred to join Tsinnah and Revakhaw in the shaded area of the courtyard and help them to bind their new grass mats. Comfort came when Lawkham and Zehker disagreed on which tip to use for one of the arrows they were making. In the midst of their debate, Lawkham shoved Zehker, who instantly grabbed Lawkham’s tightly bound hair at the nape of his neck and wrenched it into disarray.

“Ow! You make me look bad,” Lawkham howled. Surrendering at once, he attempted to bring his dark, tousled curls to order. “Savage.”

“Pretty boy,” Zehker answered, rapidly joining his choice of flint to the notched arrow with a dab of resin, then winding it neatly into place with a piece of sinew. He seemed stoic as ever, but Keren saw him
almost
smile.

The effect was shocking—so unlike Zehker—that she whooped delightedly. At once Lawkham pretended offense, while Tsinnah and the fun-loving Revakhaw emerged from the shade to learn why Keren was laughing. Zehker
became remote again.

“Test your bow, Lady,” he commanded, keeping all the arrows in his firm grasp.

Unable to be indignant with Zehker’s abruptness now, Keren obeyed.

Still struggling with the leather cordage binding his unruly hair, Lawkham offered Keren a profusion of happy instructions as she stood with her new bow. “Stand easily, Lady. Now, lift your right elbow. Higher. No, keep your shoulder lowered. Yes, that way. Push your left arm straight and forward as you pull the bowstring back. Good! Let the hand holding the bowstring rest just beneath and against your jaw, then align the bowstring with your chin and nose. Wait, wait … which eye is your sighting eye? Zehker, give her an arrow.”

“She might kill someone.”

“Not if she aims at the wall.” Lawkham called out to everyone in the courtyard. “Move all of you, before you catch an arrow! Zehker, don’t be such a coward. Give her an arrow. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Radiating disapproval, Zehker handed Keren an arrow, then backed away.

Lawkham resumed his sociable barrage of instructions. “Relax, relax. Stand evenly, Lady, don’t lean like that. Rest the notched end of the arrow atop your long finger and secure it with the finger above. Wait, wait, curl your fingers
slightly
around the string. Raise your elbow. Curl your thumb into your palm. Relax your hand. Don’t frown at me, Lady, just stare at your prey. Well … imagine your prey standing by that wall.”

At last, when all the muscles in her hands were cramping and Keren felt she was going to scream, Lawkham said, “Good. Now,
gently
, flexing all your fingers at once—
then pulling your hand away smoothly—allow the string to slip out of your fingers and release the arrow.”

Keren released the arrow and was instantly rewarded with a vicious, searing bowstring snap across her tunic-covered left breast. The pain was so intense she couldn’t even shriek. Still clutching the bow, she sank to her knees and huddled over, rocking in misery. Tsinnah and Revakhaw hurried to comfort her, making low noises of distress.

“Can you speak?” Revakhaw asked, rubbing Keren’s back in anxious sympathy.

“O Lady, that must have hurt beyond anything,” Tsinnah mourned.

“By all the heavens, I should have thought of that,” Lawkham said, sounding contrite. “You need a protective covering of some sort. You also need leather bands, to protect your forearms.”

Both Revakhaw and Tsinnah cried at him to be silent, their usual adoration of his charms obviously dashed.

“Lawkham,” Keren said through her teeth, when she could finally speak, “please, go stand against that wall so I can
hurt
you.”

He laughed, obviously relieved that she could joke at all. Recovering, Keren sat up, fanning herself with her hands.

As they were talking, Zehker used a flint blade to slice four strips off a large, squared swatch of leather. He then slit a small hole in each corner of the squared leather and threaded a long leather strip through each hole, knotting them firmly. He also cut two small pieces of leather with matching ties. Finished, he dropped his work in front of Keren. “Use the small ones for your arms, Lady. Then try again.”

“I’m finished with the bow and arrows,” she told him. “I won’t use them.”

Half kneeling, he leaned toward her, his dark brown eyes hard, the thoroughly formidable commander-horseman. “You will.”

He meant it. Keren knew she would never persuade him to give up these weaponry lessons. She could just imagine him sitting in her courtyard all night long, prepared to greet her by the first light of dawn, her bow in his hands. Exasperated, she donned the armbands, snatched the bow, and stood as Revakhaw and Tsinnah adjusted the protective leather chest covering, tying it in an X behind her back. Before taking aim at the wall, Keren eyed Zehker severely. “If your invention doesn’t work, O Zehker, then you can just sit here all night, all month, all year. I’ll never touch a bow again.”

Trying to follow all of Lawkham’s intricate instructions, Keren shot a second arrow. Only her fingers hurt this time, and the arrow cracked near the base of the wall, a far better result than from the first arrow, which had landed on the nearby bricks.