He Who Lifts the Skies (48 page)

“I’m going to help your father and Shem. What are you doing today?”

She stood, wrapping her arms around him. “Harvesting, preserving, cleaning, cooking, sewing, chasing Yelalah, Nekokhah, and Achyow … and purifying my gold.”

“What’s left of it,” he muttered wryly. To his disgust, she had given a gold cuff and some rings to Gebuwrah.

Keren shook her head at him, stern. “I had to repay Gebuwrah for her time in the goat’s pen; you were terrible.”

“I considered the dung heap.”

Despite herself, Keren laughed. “We’ll be rid of her today. Give me a kiss.”

He gave her several kisses, lingering warmly, tempting her to forget work. In many ways, it seemed they had been married for years instead of days—but being able to kiss and touch him would always seem new.

An ebullient, high-pitched little voice outside warned them Achyow was near. Zekaryah released her unwillingly. “At least he’s not afraid of you anymore.”

As Zekaryah left the tent, Keren heard Achyow’s piping voice. “Is she ready?”

“Go see,” Zekaryah told him. Keren hurriedly gathered her gold as Achyow scrambled into the tent, bright eyed and disheveled.

“I have my hammer,” he chirped, waving a wooden mallet.

“Don’t hit anyone with it.” Keren scooped her mending into a basket with the gold, then rumpled his thick dark hair. “That’s everything; let’s go. Out-out!”

“You told me I could beat your gold.”

“With I’ma-Annah’s help,” Keren reminded him. Glancing around the clearing before the Ancient One’s lodge, she saw Alatah and Gebuwrah preparing to leave with Metiyl’s family.

Gebuwrah deliberately looked away.

Keren approached her, hoping to part cordially. “Gebuwrah, I wish you blessings.”

“Do you?” Gebuwrah tied a rolled grass mat onto her horse’s back. Finished, she threw Keren an unforgiving scowl. “You think you’ve won, but they’ll come after you.”

Keren met her glare calmly. “I know. And you’re wrong; I don’t think I’ve won. I’ll never have a normal life. Nimr-Rada destroyed that hope for me.” Keren hesitated. “I don’t understand how you can be so angry. You were with us all these years; you know everything that’s happened. And you know that if your He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies had lived, others would have died. All I can conclude is that you truly care more about yourself and the honors you’ve lost. Even so, Gebuwrah, may the Most High bless you.”

Gebuwrah looked away, stone-faced. Keren left her without another word.

Before they fell asleep that night, Zekaryah murmured into Keren’s ear, “Ashkenaz insists we should live with his people, though Neshar and Ethniy plan to move into the western mountain tribes with my First Father, Yepheth and his Ghinnah; they believe they’ll be safer there.”

You think you’ve won, but they’ll come after you
. Remembering Gebuwrah’s hatred, Keren opened her eyes, suddenly wide-awake. “Perhaps Uncle Ashkenaz is right. If his people are willing to risk our presence …”

Ra-Anan looked from Kuwsh’s dignified brother Mitzrayim to the dark bundle Mitzrayim had just placed on Ra-Anan’s courtyard pavings.
His head? Nimr-Rada’s head?
Beside Ra-Anan, Kuwsh sucked in a hoarse, raging breath.

“It’s enough to know he’s dead! What are you trying to do to me, my own brother, by bringing me
that?
Do you want to kill me?”

Mitzrayim lifted his thinly bearded chin. “Would you rather I leave it to be picked apart like carrion? It was all I could preserve of your son’s body. If you had seen—”

Kuwsh flung his hands upward, stopping Mitzrayim’s words. And before Ra-Anan could say anything, Kuwsh bounded off his mat and fled the courtyard. Mitzrayim followed him quickly.

Good
. Ra-Anan relaxed. He would talk to Kuwsh later and help him to see what must be done to preserve Nimr-Rada’s
kingdom. But first, he would deal with Sharah. Marching to the gate, Ra-Anan snapped at the shock-silenced Perek. “Go tell the Lady Sharah that I must speak to her alone. Immediately. It’s worth her life.”

Perek’s mouth worked soundlessly, like a fish’s. Then he asked, “He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies … is truly dead?”

“Yes. Now, tell the Lady Sharah the truth if you must, but bring her to me.”

Returning to his emptied courtyard, Ra-Anan opened the dark leather bundle.

Nimr-Rada’s dried head gaped at him from within the leather folds—insignificant now. Satisfied, Ra-Anan retied the bundle and set it aside.

Sharah knelt before Ra-Anan, too excited to be indignant at being summoned like a mere servant. Leaning forward, she hissed, “Is it true he’s dead?”

“Completely true. You need to act like a grieving wife.”

“Of course.” But she was thrilled, thinking,
Now I can marry Qaydawr!
He was the most handsome, most perfect man in the world—the only one she had ever loved—though she had first tempted him to be revenged against Nimr-Rada for his cruelty. It had been so easy to send most of her clever, hostile servants away on prolonged visits to their families, then to meet Qaydawr in Nimr-Rada’s abandoned rooms. She weakened, remembering Qaydawr kisses and how much he adored her. She had dreaded Nimr-Rada’s return. But now, she would never see Nimr-Rada again. Unable to contain her joy, she smiled at Ra-Anan. “I’m with child.”

His eyes widened. “Have you just realized this?”

“Yes.”

“Sharah.…” Ra-Anan sighed as if disgusted. “Don’t tell me that Nimr-Rada is the father of your child. I’m not some ignorant man from the streets: I calculate days, weeks, and months, so I know it’s not his—he’s been gone too long. Who is the father?”

“It doesn’t matter; I’m going to marry him,” Sharah answered, gleeful.

“Not if you want to keep Nimr-Rada’s kingdom.”

Sharah’s delight faded. “What do you mean?”

Ra-Anan leaned forward, glaring. “Think! If the citizens believe that you carry Nimr-Rada’s child, then they’ll pour all their hopes into that child. You’ll rule them! But let them realize that you’ve taken a lover and are bearing
his
child, and you’ll be chased from the Great City like the faithless creature you are—if they let you live!”

Sharah shook her head. “They’d kill me?”

“If they don’t, Kuwsh will. Whoever your beloved is, you’ll have to give him up.”

“But … I can’t. I love him.”

“A perfect time for you to fall in love. You’ll lose your chance to rule this kingdom for your child. For
his
child.”

Sharah tried to think of another way; she wanted everything—the kingdom and Qaydawr. “I could marry him later, after everyone thinks this child is Nimr-Rada’s.”

“That’s an idea worth considering,” Ra-Anan said, straightening. “But what man deserves such glory? Whom are we talking about?”

“Qaydawr,” she admitted reluctantly. Ra-Anan would find out soon enough.

Ra-Anan grimaced. “I suppose he can be trusted. Obviously you were discreet enough to avoid my spies. Stay for the evening meal. We’ll talk again later. But not a word
of your Qaydawr to anyone. Not even to my Zeva’ah.”

As soon as he was alone, Ra-Anan went to the gate, startling Perek and his relief guard, Abdiy. He had caught them gossiping. “Perek, do you remember Qaydawr, that guardsman who followed Nimr-Rada two years ago but is now banished to the stables?”

Perek snorted. “That long-lashed boy with the oily manners?”

“Yes. He betrayed Nimr-Rada. Bring me some token of his death. But hide his body well. Abdiy, forget you heard this.”

Bowing, Perek vanished into the looming darkness. Ra-Anan closed the gate on the dazed Abdiy, then stared up at the emerging stars, for once not seeing them.
He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies … you were not our Promised One. No matter. We can create another
. He smiled.

Epilogue

KEREN LED DOBE after Zekaryah, Ashkenaz, his men, and Zekaryah’s packhorses, through the damp green valley to Ashkenaz’s settlement. She prayed that the women and children of his tribe would not be frightened by her eyes.

“There we are,” Ashkenaz rumbled. Waving his longspear toward a cluster of timber-and-stone lodges, he greeted a rugged leather-clad youth. “Uzziel! Everything’s still standing. Is everyone well?”

“Everyone, Father?” Uzziel grinned. “You mean my Ritspah and the baby? Yes, they’re well—we have a girl!”

Ashkenaz punched his shoulder lightly. “Good. I hope she doesn’t look like you!”

Uzziel laughed.

Ashkenaz nodded to Keren. “The women are probably in the main lodge, Keren. Some of them are shy. Particularly his Ritspah.”

By Uzziel’s wry face, Keren understood that Ritspah was anything but shy. Zekaryah pulled Dobe’s reins from Keren’s cold hands and patted her in a temporary farewell. Ashkenaz urged her toward the main lodge.

“Go! They’ll be glad to see you. And tell my wife—er, your Aunt Laheh’beth—that I’m here.”

Keren approached the main lodge, hugging herself nervously. Her new gold cuffs—made by I’ma-Annah—pressed into her forearms. She paused in the doorway.

Immediately, a woman called from inside, “Well, who are you? Where’s your family?”

“I’m Keren. My husband is outside with my Uncle Ashkenaz. I’m looking for my Aunt Laheh’beth and Ritspah.”

“I’m Ritspah,” the woman said genially. She was tall, keen eyed, and attractive, with flushed brown skin and a ruddy, nursing infant in one arm. “I haven’t met you before, have I? How long are you staying?”

“As long as you’ll endure me.”

Ritspah chortled. “You’ll have to endure
me
. Come in, Keren; the others are all here. Laheh’beth, one of your nieces is visiting. Look, everyone—her eyes are wonderful!”

Laheh’beth hurried forward, tall, brown, and brisk, wiping her hands on a rough swatch of cloth. “Now, aren’t you Chaciydah’s youngest daughter?” She hesitated. “You didn’t bring your pale sister, did you?”

Smiling, Keren shook her head. “No, she wants nothing to do with me.”

Laheh’beth sighed, obviously relieved. A number of women—about half, Keren recognized as cousins—abandoned various tasks throughout the lodge; Ritspah rattled off their names, which escaped Keren altogether. They greeted her eagerly and sat down near a smoldering hearth, plying her with bread, dried fruit, and a bittersweet brewed drink, while small children played throughout the lodge. The women were attractive like Ritspah, all with dark hair and eyes. But Keren gasped to see their children. Some had light skin, others had greenish eyes, and two had copper-red curls such as Keren had never seen. Keren felt dizzied—and not from the strong-brewed drink. She was no longer unique! The realization made her want to dance like a child.