He Who Lifts the Skies (25 page)

Save me from the results of this most frustrating day
, he prayed, even as his mind shied away from acknowledging the dangerous existence of the forbidden Most High. He was suddenly very tired—unusual for him. Somehow he had to find time alone, to rest and reorder his thoughts. He had watch duty early tomorrow morning, but even so, he might find a small space of quiet time before sleep.

He hoped he would sleep. Other aspects of this day were also nagging at him. Nimr-Rada had gained Keren’s compliance in everything but her lack of a submissive bow this evening. Her new attire, her ornaments, her smile, the disgusting face paints, the dismissal of her father—all of it was against her will, but in accordance with Nimr-Rada’s will, and too perfectly organized to be mere chance.

The whole episode had shattered Keren. She had fought for composure during the unending walk through the streets after meeting with her father—Zehker was still amazed by her restraint. But as soon as she reached the seclusion of her own courtyard, she had collapsed in tears. It had taken some prompting on his part to remind Keren that she must send the bracelet to her father, so he could return it to her once-beloved Yithran. That had upset her all the more. But at least now, he—Zehker—could assure Keren that her father did not hate her; Meshek knew the truth.

Briskly, Zehker approached Keren’s residence, waved aside the ferret-faced guard, Erek, and entered the courtyard. Torches had been lit and brazier bowls were set here and there, exuding pungent tendrils of smoke to ward off night-loving insects. In the torchlight, Lawkham
was busily finishing a sturdy reed ladder for Keren, which would allow her access to her roof. Perhaps she would be able to use it tonight. That would comfort her.

Lawkham looked up as Zehker moved past him. As bold as ever, Lawkham said, “Did you speak to him?”

“Yes,” Zehker growled.
And I’ll speak to you later; I’m going to learn everything that you knew about our Meherah’s visit today
. Pushing that thought aside, Zehker approached the door to Keren’s low pale-walled house. Lamplight wavered softly from the reed-screened windows, and shadows moved through the interior. No doubt they were watching for his return. As he expected, Keren met him at the door, accompanied by the protective Revakhaw. Looking painfully young and afraid, Keren asked in a tremulous whisper, “Did you see him? What did he say?”

Zehker exhaled, relieved that he could honestly give her good news. “Yes, Lady. He said, ‘Tell my youngest that I regret losing my temper with her.’”

Lowering her hands into her face, Keren cried. Revakhaw hugged her.

“There, Lady! Truly, didn’t I say he would regret his words? He loves you. Shhhh.”

Zehker left them hastily and crossed the courtyard to confront Lawkham. As he watched his adoptive brother and debated what to say, Lawkham looked up at him, good-naturedly indignant.

“Now, Zehker, you’re blocking my light, as thoughtless as an ox! Do you want this thing finished tonight, or not? If so, then you ought to remember your manners and move. Why are you staring at me?
What?
What did I do?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

Meherah waited uncomfortably on a mat inside Nimr-Rada’s cool and spacious residence. Small lamps, placed at measured intervals, illuminated this huge main room and made it seem mysteriously cavernous.

She had never been inside a home so large. It actually echoed with her footsteps and movements—an unnerving effect. And it was decorated with frightfully gruesome remembrances of successful hunts—vivid dried skins, white grinning horned skulls, assorted tusks, feathers, and claws that had been separated from their original owners. Most oppressive. Meherah shivered at the sight of them. But she had to tolerate these death tokens. Nimr-Rada had sent for her, and he could never be ignored. Hearing brisk, sturdy footsteps, Meherah straightened, fixing a determinedly bright smile on her face.

“You are to be congratulated,” Nimr-Rada said, entering the large room, filling it with his presence. As usual, he was imposing to the point of intimidation. Indeed, he was so overwhelming that she could almost forget those terrible death tokens adorning his walls.

Meherah wondered,
If I am so frightened, how has our frail-seeming Keren resisted him at every possible turn for these past few months? Beyond doubt
, she thought to Keren,
you are not as gentle or frail as you seem. Perhaps it’s a terrible thing that my sons are in your presence continually—may the heavens protect them
.

Zehker would be careful, she knew. But Lawkham admired Keren tremendously, and that worried Meherah. She did not want her rascal-son to be fascinated with a young woman who continually rebelled against He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies. But surely the fact that Nimr-Rada was congratulating her now might protect Lawkham. Relaxing slightly, she bowed her head to the mat in humble submission.

“Why should you congratulate me, O Great King? I’ve only done what I could to help the Lady Keren see her duty. And I will continue to do so according to your commands.” Moistening her lips, she hastily called his attention to her one distressing failure. “She has yet to bow to you, which I regret completely.”

Nimr-Rada sat on his thickly cushioned mat, tapping his ever-present flail in an artful show of idleness. But he was never truly idle, Meherah knew. He was probably allowing her to sweat while he contemplated whether or not she should be reprimanded for her failure. To her relief, he smiled.

“In time, we will persuade the Lady Keren to show reverence for those above her. But as far as her garments and the gold ornaments—they surpassed my expectations. The paint on her eyes and lips was also effective.” Grimacing, he added, “Actually, I was amazed enough by her appearance that I did not notice her failure to bow. I have just sent word to her household that she must destroy all her old leather garments; from this day forward, she will present herself only in her new attire. You must convince her to comply.”

“I think she might resist, my Lord.”

“Not if the comfort of her household is in question.” Nimr-Rada had not raised his voice, but his threat was unmistakable.

Meherah shivered, thinking of her sons.

Quietly, Nimr-Rada said, “By the way, I advise you to rein in Lawkham. He is presumptuous and causes unwanted tumult in her household. Tell him that I want the Lady Keren to concentrate on certain tasks that will be expected of her without any distractions. If he cannot control himself, he will be removed from her service.”

“He will obey,” Meherah assured Nimr-Rada, alarmed. “Forgive him. If he lacks self-discipline, then the fault is mine—is he not my son?”

Nimr-Rada grunted acknowledgement and changed the subject. “To compensate your husband and your family for the need to move to the Great City, I will grant you two measures of land near the river, where you should find suitable materials for your husband’s pot making. I expect a set of new dishes to finish the matter. Here.”

Reaching into a fold of his pale tunic, he removed a small leather bag and tossed it at her. Meherah caught it—to her profound relief—and he dismissed her for the night.

Outside in the torchlit courtyard, Meherah had to pause and rest. She felt weak. As she rested, she checked the contents of the leather bag. Inside were three small clay tokens. Two had a pattern of lines, apparently signifying two measures of land, and one was rippled, indicating the river. Land along on the river would please her dear husband, Yabal, and soothe his aggravation at being summoned to the Great City so hastily. But was this compensation from Nimr-Rada worth the loss of her family’s ability to travel about freely? Was it worth living so near to the formidable He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies? She feared not.

Walking out into her courtyard, Keren sighed shakily—the conclusion, she hoped, to an evening of tears. As she stared up at the stars, Lawkham approached her. He looked grim, not at all like himself. Bowing, he said, “Lady, my mother’s actions this day have certainly added
to your grief; I beg your forgiveness. Please, do not be angry with her—or with me.”

Genuinely perplexed, she said, “How can I be angry with either of you?” She shook her head. “No, I should thank your mother. I see now that the Most High has brought blessings out of the chaos today. My father is still alive, he doesn’t hate me, and my appearance was startling enough that He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies won’t punish me for failing to bow.” Suppressing a mirthless chuckle, she said, “Apparently, he liked my dreadful attire; I’ve just received word that I must never emerge from my gates unless I’m wearing all my gold and the other foolishness.”

“You did not look foolish, Lady,” he assured her softly. His tone made Keren stare at him, unsettled. She didn’t want him to look at her in such an admiring manner. Turning away swiftly, she changed the subject.

“Is my ladder finished? I’d like to climb up to my roof.”

“We will know it is finished if you actually reach the roof without mishap,” Lawkham said, teasing now, as if to cover his transgression.

“You test it,” she commanded him. “If
you
actually reach the roof without mishap, then I’ll use your ladder.”

Zehker had apparently been listening; he lifted the ladder from the courtyard pavings and leaned it against the wall of Keren’s residence, jostling it back and forth to be sure it was secure. “Revakhaw should accompany you, Lady,” he suggested.

Nodding agreement, Keren called inside to Revakhaw. At once, Revakhaw stored her delicate bone needle in the hem of Keren’s new outer robe—to Gebuwrah’s annoyance—and joined Keren. Together they watched as Lawkham happily climbed the ladder, stamping on each rung, proclaiming its perfection.

“This ladder is beyond extraordinary! Look how amazing it is; every rung, knot, and binding of unrivaled craftsmanship! Who could fear to climb such a wondrous ladder?”

“Stop praising yourself, O wondrous Lawkham,” Revakhaw told him in mock irritability, though she was laughing. “We know you built the ladder yourself. Why do you think we sent you up first?”

“You climb next, O disbelieving one,” he told Revakhaw as he knelt on the roof and held the uppermost rung. “I’ll show you that my marvelous handiwork can withstand a severe shaking.”

Hearing this, Zehker gripped the ladder, actually raising his voice. “Don’t.”

“Bear!” Lawkham retorted cheerfully. “Come up, all of you.”

One by one, they climbed the ladder and knelt on the roof—Lawkham and Zehker a careful distance from Keren and Revakhaw. They were silent, staring up at the dark, sparkling heavens. Appreciative, Keren said, “Surely there is no better viewpoint than this in all the city.”

Lawkham said, “There will be, Lady, when He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies finishes his tower.”

Keren remembered hearing of a particular building important to the Great King; Ra-Anan had been helping to plan it on the night of her arrival in the Great City. “Why should he need a tower?” she demanded. “Isn’t the city enough?”

“A tower, reaching to the heavens, unchallenged in height by anything on these plains, would draw all the tribes of the earth here to see it,” Lawkham explained. “And who wouldn’t be proud to live in the Great City, being able to boast of such a tower?”

“I prefer the mountains,” Keren said, unable to hide
her derision. “And why challenge the Most High? Didn’t He command the tribes to scatter and fill the earth? Instead, we are gathering in a city.”

They were all quiet—a polite, “waiting-for-the-end-of-her-speech” silence. Keren shook her head, surrendering temporarily. It had been too long a day, too difficult a day, to argue her point now. “Tower or no tower, I prefer to study the heavens from my own roof. Thank you for building the ladder, Lawkham.”

“Whatever you command, Lady, I will do,” Lawkham said softly.

Disturbed, Keren glanced at him. He was gazing upward at the stars. Zehker was studying him intently, and Revakhaw widened her bright eyes at Keren, obviously enjoying her lady’s discomfort.

You are imagining things
, Keren thought to both Revakhaw and herself.
He meant nothing, I’m sure
.