He Who Lifts the Skies (36 page)

Keren winced at Nimr-Rada’s graphic imagining of
this would-be death. He took a perverse pleasure in trying to upset her. During these practices, he never said, “You felled a lion,” or “You wounded a gazelle.” Her victims were always humans. She had to clench her teeth hard to keep from screaming at him. Or from using him as her target—a tactic she had rejected, knowing that she and her entire household would be slaughtered instantly.

Changing the subject, she said, “Please tell me that you are satisfied by my full recovery, O King.”

“You are persistent, Lady.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you fond of those two fools?”

The “two fools,” Qaydawr and Nimr-Rada’s former guard—whom she now recognized as Ethniy—were present this morning, tending the bored Sharah. Determined to absolve them, Keren eyed Nimr-Rada, calm and straightforward. “I can tell you almost nothing about them, O King, except that it would be a shame to waste their lives—or to distress them for months when it’s obvious that I’m fully recovered. I beg you to be merciful; set their minds at ease.”

“An endless sense of mercy makes one weak,” Nimr-Rada told her. “Someday you will agree with me.” But he shrugged and beckoned the two young guardsmen, who rode forward, dismounted, then folded their hands properly before themselves and bowed to Nimr-Rada.

Coldly dignified, he said, “The Lady Keren has recovered from the injuries she suffered by your carelessness. For her sake only, I excuse your crimes.”

Both young men maintained their composure; Keren was secretly proud of them. Even the audacious, enticing Qaydawr was dignified. They thanked Nimr-Rada, then bowed to him again, and to Keren—which made her uncomfortable. Nearby, Sharah watched jealously, clearly
hating this little ceremony. Kuwsh, too, seemed disgruntled by the attention Keren was receiving.

Kuwsh rode up in time to hear Nimr-Rada tell Keren, “You will take your evening meal with me tonight, Lady.”

“Am I uninvited then, my son?” Kuwsh asked, obviously reminding Nimr-Rada that they had already made plans.

“Do you think I have forgotten you, my father?” Nimr-Rada asked, trading him look for look. “Certainly you will eat with us.”

Keren listened, dismayed. The thought of sharing an evening meal with Nimr-Rada, Kuwsh, and probably Sharah was enough to make her lose her appetite. She wished Kuwsh would—for once—include his wife, Achlai, in their plans. Kuwsh and Nimr-Rada neglected Achlai terribly and rarely mentioned her. In fact, Keren had met her only three times in the past five years.

A quiet woman with the same high cheekbones and full mouth as Nimr-Rada, Achlai apparently embarrassed her husband and her Great King son with her yearning glances. Therefore, Achlai spent her time with her youngest daughters in pointed isolation. Keren sympathized with her deeply.

Keren glanced at Kuwsh, ready to beg him and Nimr-Rada to invite Achlai to share their evening meal. But Kuwsh stiffened, clearly forbidding Keren to address him.

I wish you didn’t hate me
, she thought to Kuwsh, discouraged.
I wish I could tell you how much I’ma-Naomi and I’ma-Annah have always loved you. How I long to honor you. But you’ve never given me the chance. Instead, you want to destroy me to protect your “Great King” son and all your schemes—though you know you’re wrong to do so. I’ma-Naomi and I’ma-Annah would despair if they could see the man you have become
.

She inclined her head, then pressed Shaw-Kak to trot in a brisk half circle around Kuwsh, remembering Zehker’s instructions.
Never ride ahead of Kuwsh again
.

Kuwsh turned, glaring at her steadily. Keren shivered. He truly wanted her to die.

Impudent child
, Kuwsh thought, glaring over his shoulder at Keren.
What is that sad, put-upon look for? Are you trying to make me feel guilty for wanting to be rid of you?

But her sadness did weigh upon him like a heavy burden. More often than he cared to admit, Kuwsh felt the genuine kindness and honor within this young woman. She affected him as gravely any of those Ancient Ones; she made him feel shamefully guilty, more than he had felt in years upon years. How he hated her for provoking that most deep-seated guilt—he almost hated himself.

But why should I feel guilty?
Kuwsh wondered, justifying his contempt toward Keren.
That misguided girl is a dangerous distraction to my son, and therefore an enemy—as much as if we were in battle. And as a threat, she must become a casualty of battle. If I must choose between a foolish girl and my son, then of course I’ll choose my son
. Once again, Kuwsh mentally outlined his plans, seeking flaws and finding none. The next time he took steps to be rid of the Lady Keren, there would be no sudden fall to save her. Keren would do the deed herself.

Sobs and jostling hands shook Keren from a heavy sleep. “Please, wake up!”

“Revakhaw?” Keren thought she was still dreaming.
But Revakhaw
was
here, in Keren’s own residence, among the stirring shadows created by Gebuwrah, Tsinnah, Alatah, and Na’ah. Wide-awake now, Keren sat up on her fleece-draped pallet, her heart thudding in alarm. “What’s happened? Revakhaw, how did you get here?”

Crying, hugging herself, and rocking back and forth, Revakhaw choked out, “I’ve been chased into the streets, Lady. Without my baby … Your sister took him.”

“Sharah?” Keren groaned. “Oh, Revakhaw. You’ve had your baby? When?”

“Two days past,” Revakhaw whispered. “He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies sent me to your sister’s household as soon as my pains began.” Sobbing again, as if the memory were too much to endure, Revakhaw gulped audibly. “She mocked me! She said I was nothing to him—which is true. And that my son is hers.” Revakhaw wiped her face, a quick, agitated movement in the darkness. “As soon as she found a woman to nurse my son, she put me out into the streets.”

Thrusting her fingers into her hair, longing to tear her cruel, vengeful sister apart, Keren shut her eyes hard. Hot color filled her mind.
Be calm
, she told herself sternly.
Revakhaw needs you to be calm
.

Finished with sleep for the night, Keren hugged her friend. “I’m so sorry! I feel as if I’ve been nothing but a curse to you. I’ll beg Sharah to return your son. Does He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies know that Sharah sent you away?”

“What doesn’t he know, Lady?” Revakhaw asked, desolate.

Tsinnah, Alatah, and Na’ah comforted Revakhaw as Gebuwrah lit a grass-wicked clay lamp. Revakhaw’s face was haggard in the wavering light, and wet with tears. “Help me, Lady. I just want my son.…”

Keren studied the tiny, chubby, dark-curled infant in her sister’s arms. The newborn was unmistakably a miniature of Nimr-Rada.

“You can’t have him,” Sharah told Keren, smugly triumphant. “He’s mine, and no one will take him from me.”

Sharah was truly exquisite this morning, her pale hair in thick, gleaming braids crowned with gold, her face paints emphasizing her full lips and remarkable eyes as her light robes and gold adornments called attention to her perfect figure. But more than that, she was truly happy. Anyone seeing her for the first time would have been dazzled and deceived. Sharah’s joy made her seem incomparable and worthy of adoration.

“I’ll be the perfect mother,” Sharah said, smiling, caught up in her own delightful reverie. “Won’t my husband’s dear citizens be thrilled to see his child in my arms?”

Nauseated, Keren bit down a grimace. “Claim as much of the glory as you please, my sister. But will you at least allow Revakhaw to nurse her own child?”

“And give her a place in his life? Never! I’m his mother now; he will adore me.”

“Unlike your own Gibbawr? I should tell everyone of him!” Keren whispered.

Sharah stiffened. “If you say another word, I’ll have that Revakhaw chased out to the steppes to face the wild animals. Don’t think I won’t!”

Keren withdrew from Sharah’s household, heartsick.
How can you be my sister? You don’t care that you’ve ruined a woman’s life. Revakhaw, I’m so sorry!

Sharah entered Ra-Anan’s courtyard unannounced, too angry to be intimidated. As she had suspected, Kuwsh was visiting Ra-Anan, both of them scheming over their precious temple ceremony. They stared as she waved her attendants off and knelt on the mats near Ra-Anan. Leaning forward, she said to Kuwsh, “We must be rid of her! I don’t care what we have to do—I want her gone before she destroys my life!”

Kuwsh studied her silently, then relaxed, as if satisfied. Sharah admired his handsome face, regretting endlessly that Nimr-Rada hadn’t inherited his father’s looks. Instead she had to be satisfied with her husband’s power and wealth—and with as much of those attributes as Nimr-Rada chose to share with her.

“I want her gone,” Sharah repeated fiercely, challenging both men. “Whatever you’re planning, let me help you!”

Ra-Anan hesitated, but Kuwsh smiled invitingly. “As you say, daughter.”

Na’ah crept into the eerily shadowed temple, hating everything about this tower and this Great City. She longed to return to her parents and to the pleasant dullness of her childhood. But her parents had gladly given her up and would be humiliated if she returned to them without Nimr-Rada’s permission. Her one comfort was that the Lady Keren appreciated her, though no one else did.