He Who Lifts the Skies (44 page)

Gebuwrah slipped around the corner of the stable and paused beneath the dripping, rain-soaked eaves, peering inside. A pile of fresh wood shavings and some leather scraps had been left on the earthen floor near the shabby horse stall. That arrogant Zehker had been in here all morning, working with that Metiyl.

You’re making new axes
, Gebuwrah thought angrily.
And I’m sure it’s because you’re plotting against our He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies
. She frowned, thinking hard. Whatever they were planning, that Metiyl and Zehker would never defeat the Great King. And Gebuwrah had no intention of being seen as a traitor alongside them. Was the Lady Keren involved in this plot?

I won’t die with you; you’ll bear your own punishment
, she told Keren silently.
If you had listened to me, and if you’d been more agreeable all along, I wouldn’t be in this miserable situation now
.

Keren raised her new shortened decorative bow, masterfully carved by Zehker.

“Your stance is sloppy,” Neshar teased, watching.

“Your beard is worse,” Keren said sweetly, wrinkling her nose at him. “Now go help Zehker and our Ancient Ones in the fields and leave me alone.”

“I tremble.”

“Liar,” Keren retorted mildly, eyeing her target—a scrap of birch bark, mounted on a swaying deerskin slung from the branches of I’ma-Annah’s favorite willow tree,
her second Tree of Havah. Relaxing, Keren remembered Lawkham’s long-ago weaponry lessons.

Push your left arm straight and forward.… Pull the bowstring back. Let the hand holding the bowstring rest just beneath and against your jaw
.…

A stinging swat frightened Keren badly, making her miss her target. Neshar laughed and taunted her with an unfinished arrow. “See! Your aim is—”

“Rat!” Keren struck his arm with her bow, making him jump.

He swatted her repeatedly with the arrow, grinning. “What’ll you do now,
little
sister, eh? I dare you to—”

She swiped him again. He grabbed the end of her bow and they jostled each other.

“Skinny girl! Give up!”

“Big mouth!” Worried about damaging her new bow, Keren snatched an arrow from her quiver and jabbed it toward him. He danced back a few steps, released her bow, then charged at her again. Keren darted across the clearing toward Noakh’s lodge, shrieking with laughter as Neshar chased her. Others were laughing with her now—Tsinnah, Alatah, and … Revakhaw.

Their laughter stopped Neshar in his tracks. Bowing to Keren mockingly, he said, “Peace,
Lady.”
He glanced toward Revakhaw and the others, bowing his head, acknowledging their cheers. “Admit it; I’ve won.”

“No!”
Swiftly Keren slapped his rump with an arrow and dashed inside the lodge, where she would be safe. Outside, the others howled with delight.

“Hush,” I’ma-Naomi scolded fondly, busily winding a spindle of thread. “Achyow is napping.” Beside her, combing a fine tuft of light wool, I’ma-Annah smiled.

“What are you doing, Karan-child?”

“Making Revakhaw laugh,” Keren said, pleased. She had feared that Nimr-Rada had destroyed Revakhaw’s laughter forever. But he had failed.

Don’t let him triumph at the midsummer gathering
, Keren implored the Most High.
Show He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies the will of his own Creator
.

Beneath the first misty-gray traces of dawn, Gebuwrah crept through the dew-dampened grass toward the rough-stone stable to check it again—as she had been doing for weeks. They would leave this morning, but she would be sure that the overbearing Zehker would leave without his new weapons. She was going to burn them to ashes and blackened metal. How dare he plot against the Great King and endanger
her!
Well, she’d be sure He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies heard of Zehker’s rebellion.
And I will be rewarded
.

Imagining Nimr-Rada’s gratitude, Gebuwrah eagerly crept into the stables. Rummaging through the straw, she scowled. Where were those axes? She was sure Zehker had left them here last night. Irritated, she passed Keren’s stupid horse, Dobe, and checked Tsereth’s milk goats in their little enclosure, then inspected the other side of the feed trough. Nothing. And the dim corners appeared to be empty. After poking through the straw again, Gebuwrah straightened, frustrated.

As she turned, Zehker appeared in the doorway, eyeing her calmly, Dobe’s bridle and lead reins in his hands.

“Move,” she commanded, her heart thudding hard.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Where’s Gebuwrah?” Keren asked, looking around the clearing before the Lodge of Meshek.

“She won’t be coming,” Zehker answered, fashioning a makeshift rein for Dobe.

Keren frowned at him suspiciously; Gebuwrah had been eagerly anticipating their return to the Great City, so it was unlikely that she would refuse to leave. “Is she ill?”

“No, Lady.” He bound a leather strap to a toughened leather bit and worked it into Dobe’s mouth. “But it’s best for her to stay.”

“Who tied these here?” Tsereth called from the front of the lodge; her milk goats were conveniently tethered just outside the doorway.

Zehker hurried toward her. Keren followed him, her suspicions growing.

Seeing them, Tsereth smiled. “Did you bring the goats to me, Zehker? Thank you. It’s a pity you’re leaving, now that I’ve got you trained.”

“Eliyshama should put them in the stable tonight,” Zehker informed her grimly. “There’s another loud, stinking goat in there who shouldn’t be released until then. Keep your children away too; she will be angry.”

“You didn’t!” Keren gasped, horrified.

Zehker inclined his head toward the amused Tsereth. “Forgive me.”

Keren pushed another dried stick into the fire, watching uneasily as sparks snapped upward into the darkness,
swayed by a chilling breeze from the huge salt lake nearby. Shem, Meshek, Zehker, the bearded Neshar, Metiyl, his son Khawrawsh, and the guardsman Ethniy were having a loud discussion on the other side of the hearth. After days of travel, Ethniy was finally questioning their new weapons, Neshar’s presence, and Gebuwrah’s surprising absence from this journey.

“Whatever you’re planning, you’ve involved me against my will!” Ethniy fumed at Zehker and Neshar. “He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies won’t believe me if I say I had nothing to do with this. And do you really think you can overcome him and all his guards?”

“Those weapons are for our protection,” Metiyl argued. “That king of yours stole my father’s lands, and mine. We’d be foolish to go there unprotected.”

“We will not provoke a fight at this gathering,” Shem said firmly. “I will hear what Nimr-Rada has to say for himself, and everyone’s complaints will be heard. Things will be decided justly.”

“But will those decisions be obeyed?” Meshek asked, almost challenging Shem—which distressed Keren; her father usually revered Shem without question. “What if that Nimr-Rada decides to take my daughter with him again? She despises him. And I’ll refuse to let him take her!”

They all looked at Keren. She felt obligated to speak. “I am unimportant. But Nimr-Rada has committed crimes against all the tribes, and against the Most High. He has destroyed lives—I will testify to that. He should pay with his own life.”

“How can you say that without an open rebellion?” Ethniy demanded. “And if there’s a rebellion, I’ll be considered guilty simply by being here with you now.”

“I won’t stop you if you wish to leave,” Keren said, aware of Na’ah’s miserable gaze flicking from her to Ethniy.

“No, I don’t wish to leave,” Ethniy said reluctantly, glancing at Na’ah. “But I also don’t wish to throw away my life for nothing.”

“There are things worth dying for,” Neshar said quietly, as Khawrawsh grunted and Zehker nodded in agreement, staring hard at the flames.

“There are also justice and order and reason,” Shem admonished. “We will conduct this gathering properly. We will hear everyone, including Nimr-Rada. And if he must be punished, then he
will
be punished.”

“How, Father of my Father?” Metiyl leaned forward, his big fists clenched on his knees. “His men outnumber our own!”

“Do they?” Shem asked, his dark eyes flaring in the firelight. “Let the Most High deal with his men.”

Keren shivered.

Seated nearby, I’ma-Annah said softly, “I’m glad our Noakh and Naomi did not come with us.”

Or my I’ma
, Keren thought, remembering Chaciydah’s fears at their parting.
She should not have to see her husband and children die
.

Later, as the others prepared their sleeping places near the fire, Meshek approached Keren. She waited, certain he wanted to talk about Nimr-Rada.

“Daughter,” he said uncomfortably, looking up at the stars. “Before you left the mountains, years ago, to visit the tribe of Bezeq, I asked you to request my approval in a certain matter. Do you remember?”

Surprised, Keren recalled his demand that she seek his approval for her marriage. “Yes, I remember—though that
hope is dead for as long as Nimr-Rada lives.”

He looked her in the eyes now. “I approve.”

He walked off. As Keren stared, astonished, he gave the unsuspecting Zehker a solid thump on the shoulder before preparing for the night.