Heavens Before (16 page)

His eyes narrow with suspicion, Yerakh stood and crossed the short distance between them. Reaching down, Yerakh dragged Annah to her feet, pulling her veil away. She gazed at the floor, keeping her face slack, her eyes vacant, seeing something that didn’t exist. Yerakh grabbed her jaw, turning her face toward his, bellowing, “Look at me!”

Annah looked past him vaguely, now fixing her eyes to a point somewhere beyond the roof of the lodge. Disgusted, Yerakh let her go. Annah slouched down again beside the lattice-and-grass wall. Slowly, absently, she gathered her veil to herself and pulled it over her head, then leaned into the wall and shut her eyes, as if nothing was more important than a nap. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the others staring at her. Some of the young men snickered.

“What did she do to make him desire her?” Tseb-iy asked, expressing everyone’s disbelief. He laughed softly, the sound full of unspoken, lascivious imaginings.

How can you laugh, Tseb-iy?
Annah almost shook with rage.
My mother died last night, bearing your child, and you stand in her lodge now, and you laugh and think of vile things
.

“Now, we’ll talk!” Naham announced loudly, rumbling,
jubilant. “This worthless creature has brought more wealth to the lodge of the Tsaraph. So, Yerakh, no more excuses. You’ll give K’nan one hundred animals for Ayalah’s marriage portion.”

“One hundred and fifty,” K’nan argued. “Because he’s kept me waiting for so long.”

“And one hundred fifty animals for Haburah,” Naham agreed, accepting K’nan’s terms as his own.

“Then you owe me at least one hundred fifty animals,” Gammad said menacingly. “That leaves you with all the grain, fifty new animals, and the promise of a marriage portion from Taphaph. You have no reason to disagree with us now, Yerakh.”

Curious, Annah opened her eyes to peer through the veil. Yerakh looked murderous. Taphaph was pulling away from him in response to fervent signals from her mother.

Tsillah, thin and imperious, spoke as if alarmed. “Nothing has been decided for my daughter, and I’m not ready to part with her yet!”

“I’ma!” Taphaph protested. But Tsillah steered Taphaph out of the lodge, lifting her high-arched brows at Tseb-iy. Sullen, he stalked after them.

“Get out!” Yerakh ordered Gammad. “You’ve caused enough trouble for tonight. You can sleep in the pen with the sheep!”

Gammad hesitated, then snatched several handfuls of grain cakes and stomped outside. Yerakh scowled, watching him go. Still angry, he looked at Naham. “You won’t give me any peace until you have Haburah, will you?”

“None,” Naham agreed.

“Then you may have her, and the animals you requested from the five hundred. And K’nan will have the one
hundred fifty animals he requested for Ayalah.”

Hearing this, Ayalah screamed with delight, while Haburah closed her eyes. All the women whispered among themselves, amazed.

Yerakh ignored them. He beckoned Naham quietly. “I’ll pay you an extra fifty animals, if you’ll do as I say.”

Annah shuddered at the coldness in his voice. Hushed, Yerakh muttered instructions to Naham, who smiled and narrowed his eyes, pleased.
What is Yerakh planning?
Annah wondered. She watched the two men for the remainder of the evening, but their words and actions revealed nothing.

At the end of the evening, Yerakh called to the wives of Naham. “I’ll give you each a talisman of gold if you’ll guard that creature tonight in your own lodge, and prepare her for her marriage. Be sure she doesn’t run away in the morning. Haburah, Ayalah, go with them. Naham will stay here with me.”

The other guests were leaving now, and the wives of Naham stopped to gather some remnants of the feast to take back to their lodge. Grimly, Haburah grabbed Annah by the elbow and pushed her toward the doorway of the lodge.
My bag
, Annah thought, suddenly anxious, halting in the doorway.
My comb, my shell carving
. She had left them in a corner of Yerakh’s workroom.

“Go!” Haburah shoved her out into the dusk. Ayalah and the wives of Naham followed them, gossiping. Stars sparkled in the violet-red evening sky. Annah focused on them, calming herself.

“Don’t think that I’ll spend the entire night with the four of you,” Ayalah told the wives of Naham. “I’m going to find K’nan!” She paused, listening to sounds in the distance. They all turned, hearing the low, protesting calls of
sheep and the sharp whistles of approaching herders. “It must be Annah’s fool—he’s too impatient to wait until tomorrow.” Ayalah laughed at the thought.

The sounds of the sheep and the whistles of two herders roused the men of the settlement. They were coming from all directions now; among them Yerakh, Naham, Tseb-iy, K’nan, Gammad, and Tseb-iy’s father—the portly, gray-haired Bachown, who was the settlement’s expert in testing metals. Already the men were quarreling about how to divide the herd. Annah guessed there were at least a hundred animals. Yerakh was talking to the lead herder, whom Annah recognized as the older brother of her beloved.

I wish you were here
, she thought to her beloved, knowing he had deliberately stayed away.
It would comfort me to see you again
.

As she stared at the gathering of men and at the sheep, Annah saw Gammad arguing with K’nan, then with Yerakh. Naham stepped between Yerakh and Gammad, then very pointedly turned his massive back on Gammad, cutting him off from the others. Annah felt chills of fear creeping downward from her scalp.

“You can forget about seeing K’nan now,” Haburah taunted Ayalah. “The men will be arguing for the rest of the night. Come. Let’s leave them to their stupid sheep.” She gripped Annah’s shoulders and turned her toward the lodge of Naham. Annah resisted, longing to scream out a warning to Gammad. But her sisters dragged her away, and fear kept her silent.

Ten

IN THE late-morning sunlight, the wives of Naham immersed Annah in the river, then scoured her with sand and rinses of cleansing herbs. Finished, they led her and her sisters back to their lodge. There they rubbed scented oils into Annah’s hair and skin. Haburah and Ayalah were indifferent to Annah’s appearance, but the wives of Naham were unhappy. The first wife, Shuwa, slim and meticulous, was especially displeased.

“This is like trying to bring a stone to life!” Shuwa complained, combing Annah’s hair. “It can’t be done. Does your brother expect me to make her appear to be a normal woman, with her eyes staring away like that?”

The second wife, Qetsiyah, laughed curtly. “From what you’ve said, sister-wife, you must have looked exactly like this creature the day you married Naham.”

Shuwa stopped combing Annah’s hair. “Well, from
what
I
saw, the day you married Naham, you
did
look like a stone.”

Clearly impatient, Ayalah plucked the comb out of Shuwa’s fingers. “I’ll do this. We’ve been working on Annah since this morning; I’m sick of looking at her. K’nan’s waiting for me.”

“May he always be waiting for you,” Shuwa muttered, but her words sounded more like a curse than a blessing.

Kneeling on the mat beside her, Haburah slapped an oblong basket of cakes in front of Annah and the wives of Naham. “I wouldn’t concern myself with Annah’s appearance. A man offering anything for a dumb creature like her can’t have much of a mind himself.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Perhaps I’ll become as mindless as Annah the day I marry Naham.”

“You’ll survive,” Qetsiyah answered, subdued.

Shuwa and Qetsiyah evidently lived from day to day, dealing with Naham. Oddly enough, both wives had the same build as Haburah: slender, hinting at elegance. Annah wondered if Haburah eventually would become like Shuwa or Qetsiyah; an almost-nothing woman, her elegance and spirit crushed by Naham’s brutality.

“I don’t want to just survive him,” Haburah said, snatching a grain cake. “I want to kill him.”

Silent, the wives of Naham perused the basket of cakes. Annah recognized the oblong basket and the cakes made by the mother of her beloved. Pretending nothingness, she took a cake and nibbled it. The taste was sweet, faintly spiced, and delicate, crumbling gently in her mouth.

“At least she can feed herself,” Shuwa sighed.

“Her tunic is old,” Qetsiyah said. “We should persuade Yerakh to let us find some other garment among
the belongings of his wife or mother. We wouldn’t want that fool-of-a-man to receive his wife in an old tunic.”

“You can’t use one of I’ma’s beautiful garments on her,” Ayalah protested.

“You’d give her one of your own?” Qetsiyah asked, skeptical.

“It’s well past midday,” Shuwa interrupted, addressing Haburah. “Will your brother allow us to return to his lodge and search for proper marriage attire?”

“I’m beyond caring what Yerakh thinks!” Haburah declared savagely. “Or Naham!”

“Naham’s other wife—the one before me—used to speak in such a way,” Shuwa told Haburah somberly. “Naham broke her bones, then buried her alive because she argued with him.”

“He showed me her grave,” Qetsiyah added. “He laughs about her death.”

“Let him try to break my bones.” Haburah stood, brushing the crumbs from her tunic. “He’ll have to catch me first. Come, let’s take Annah to our lodge.”

As Haburah pulled her to her feet, Annah grasped Naomi’s basket of cakes; she would not leave it in the lodge of Naham.

“Why should she take that?” Shuwa asked indignantly, her tone informing them that she wanted to keep the basket.

“She’s probably hungry,” Ayalah told Shuwa. “Anyway, the basket was presented by the mother of her husband. She ought to keep it.”

You aren’t defending my right to the basket, Ayalah
, Annah thought to her sister.
You want to insult Shuwa and Qetsiyah because you don’t like them. Even so, thank you
.

Clutching her basket awkwardly in one hand, Annah
pulled her veil over her head with her free hand. It fell across her face in uneven, bedraggled folds, partially obscuring her view. She stumbled as she followed her sisters out into the sunlight.

Shuwa sniffed disdainfully. “That fool-of-a-man will demand all his animals and grain back when he realizes that your sister has no true mind.”

“He’ll have to fight most of the settlement,” Ayalah scoffed.

As they walked, Annah peered ahead. The men of the settlement were gathered before Yerakh’s lodge, watching Yerakh, Naham, and K’nan divide yet another group of sheep—perhaps fifty this time. Gammad was not there. Yerakh beckoned Haburah, spoke with her briefly, then waved her toward the lodge.

Haburah motioned for Ayalah and the wives of Naham to follow her. Ayalah gripped Annah’s elbow, pushing her into the lodge.

Inside, Haburah said, “Yerakh agreed that we should take whatever Annah needs from I’ma’s storage chest. But we’re not to go into his workroom or touch the bride-gold.”

“Why would we use bride-gold on Annah?” Ayalah demanded. “Such a waste!”

“It might distract others from her stupid staring eyes,” Shuwa argued. “Yerakh should definitely use the bride-gold. And she needs a tunic and some hair bindings.” Shuwa opened Parah’s short-legged storage chest, set against the wall of the lodge. The sight of the chest pierced Annah with fresh stabbing grief. She knelt on the earthen floor, staring numbly through the mist of her veil, feeling the mindlessness descend upon her.

Naham’s wives sorted through the chest, removing
combs, beads, cords, carvings, tunics, pieces of gold, bracelets, hair bindings, and amulets—the remnants of Parah’s life. Haburah watched these proceedings stonily, but Ayalah gathered the choicest articles in her lap—beads, carvings, and ornaments of gold.

Unable to bear the sight of the greedy Ayalah snatching at a bracelet, Annah looked away from her mother’s belongings. Shuwa and Qetsiyah argued, finally choosing one of Parah’s long, soft leather tunics. They removed Annah’s veil and slid her old tunic down to her feet while pulling Parah’s tunic over her head. Annah inhaled the remnants of her mother’s distinctive scent of spices and sweet oils. Overcome, she twisted away from the wives of Naham, snatched up her veil, and ducked past the leather curtain to Yerakh’s workroom.

Knowing that her sisters would check on her, Annah retrieved her grass bag from the corner and knelt with her back to the doorway. Struggling for self-control, she focused on the far corner of the workroom and caught her breath. There, against the wall of the workroom, was the grain offered to Yerakh by her beloved, stored in six impressively large, tightly coiled baskets. Someone had spilled some of the grain carelessly over the earthen floor, as if it meant nothing.

My beloved’s work is wasted on people who despise his sacrifice
, Annah thought.
I should be bringing wealth to his lodge. Instead, he’s enriching Yerakh and the others for a nothing-creature like me
.

Annah shut her eyes. She would cry if she thought about her beloved, and she could not weaken, not with her sisters and the wives of Naham watching.
I have to calm myself
, she thought.
I’m in the workroom now; I can work
.

The bride-gold for Taphaph was untouched from yesterday. She could continue to beat it. Lifting her club,
Annah pounded a steady rhythm against the leather-draped heap of gold, as the wives of Naham peeked at her from the doorway.

“We don’t need to guard her,” Haburah announced, pulling the others away. “She’s trained to stay here.”

Alone, Annah contemplated all the time she had spent here over the years. This room had been terrifying in Yerakh’s presence, yet comforting in his absence. And the gold was like a medicine to Annah, its brilliance and beauty distracting her from sorrow.

I can’t give up the gold
, she realized, pounding the heap of leather and membrane-clad gold.
Surely my beloved will allow me to teach our children to work the gold. But I need tools
.

She would be allowed to take nothing but what she could carry in her arms.
My father’s tools haven’t been touched since his death. Yerakh won’t miss them. And I’ve earned them by all my work in the past twenty-five years. But how can I hide them?