Heavens Before (2 page)

Hurt, Annah glanced at her mother’s face. Parah was frowning, a delicate crease etched into her otherwise smooth and pretty brown forehead. Her large, long-lashed brown eyes—so like Annah’s—reflected only exasperation.

My own I’ma
, Annah thought, looking down in despair.
You of all people should understand me. Don’t you see my pain? Why do you let Yerakh abuse us without speaking in our defense? It’s the way you behaved when he killed my father. Not one word of grief or comfort. Why? I think you’ve never cared about any of us
. Tears filled Annah’s eyes—tears she could not allow her mother to glimpse. Turning swiftly, Annah ran from the lodge.

“You forgot the baskets,” Parah called after her.

I’ll use my bag!
Annah said in silent response.
But if I stay with you, I’ma, you’ll beat me when you hear all the words I want to say
.

In her haste, Annah did not pull the veil over her head, but wore it in a great loop from her shoulders to her arms. Let others see her face today; she didn’t care. Her tears and soaring rage affected the creatures of the fields
as she ran. They fled before her, shrilling and squeaking beneath the ruddy sky.

Annah ran until her lungs burned like fire. Her mouth felt dry as dust, and her feet stung almost unbearably. Slowing her pace, she looked down and saw that the thorns of the fields had torn her feet. Even her ankles were bleeding. She would go to the river and rest, drink some water, bathe her cuts, and wash away her tears.
If only the river could rinse away my sorrow as easily as it will remove my blood
.

Her head drooping, her hair falling like a black curtain about her face, Annah walked through a thick grove of trees down to the sparkling, swift-flowing river. Sitting down heavily, she dangled her legs over the embankment and let the water rush over her feet, cool and soothing. The water directly before her was clear and lovely, but the middle of the river looked deep, fast, and disturbingly enticing. How easy it would be to slide into the water and simply drift out of this life.

Slowly she bent, dipped her aching hands into the clear water, and cupped the cool liquid to her mouth. Wiping her lips, she stared at the river, contemplating.

I’m not even forty years old—not even halfway to my first kentum. I’ma has lived two kentums, Yerakh one. Our father lived three kentums before Yerakh killed him. Father, you could have lived at least five kentums more if Yerakh had not been so greedy
.

You were the only person who ever really loved me; I know that now. I wish I had not seen you die. After all these years my pain should be less. Why am I still crying for you?

Her grief flowed out now in streams of tears punctuated
by wracking sobs.
I must be going mad
, she told herself at last.
Yerakh will beat me for running from him. But I don’t want to go back. I’m so tired of this life! I’m even tired of crying
.

Finally spent, Annah bent to rinse her face. She wiped her eyes with her veil and stared into the river once more. Perhaps she should let the river carry her away. Her pain would be over. No more of Yerakh’s beatings or Iltani’s scorn or Parah’s indifference.

The rushing river seemed to beckon her, and she stared at the gleaming current, mesmerized, swaying faintly.

A sudden splash made Annah pull back. Before she understood what had happened, another fist-sized rock plummeted into the water before her. This time droplets of water sprinkled her face.

Astonished, she looked across the small river. A leather-clad young man stared at her from the opposite bank, his dark eyes quiet, intense. When she met his gaze, he gently shook his head at her, his long, dark curls shining in the sunlight. She could almost hear him thinking,
No, don’t let the river take you
.

Annah sat back, stunned. Why should this stranger care if she died? No one in her own family would care. He watched her steadily, alert to her slightest move.
If I go into the water
, Annah realized,
he will die trying to drag me out again. He won’t leave until he sees me returning to the settlement
.

As she thought this, another young man, obviously his brother, emerged from the trees lining the opposite side of the river. He was carrying netted bundles of long bark fibers. He had a quick, easy gait, and his eyes were alight with joy and mischief until his brother spoke to him and gestured toward Annah. The joy faded from the second man’s face, and he stared at Annah. Like his brother, he
shook his dark-curled head at her, and his lips actually framed the word, “No.”

Discomfited, Annah pulled her veil over her face and stood. The brothers looked alarmed until she reached for her woven-grass bag and turned away from the river. She entered the shadows of the trees and circled back through the lush leafy undergrowth to study the two men.

The first one was still watching for her, but the second was kneeling and opening the bundles of bark fibers. Apparently, they would stay there for the afternoon, soaking the fibers and working them into ropes. As she watched, the second brother spoke to the first. Finally—perhaps because he could no longer see Annah or sense her presence—the first man knelt to help separate the long fibers.

They are at peace with each other
, Annah thought, amazed.
They love each other. And they feared for my life, though I’m a stranger to them. Others would have watched me go into the river, and my death would be nothing but a story to tell their family or friends at the evening fire
.

To distract herself, Annah left the river and walked slowly through the fields toward Yerakh’s orchards. If she was going to live, then she should pick fruit as Parah had commanded.
Although my I’ma certainly doesn’t expect her mindless, nothing-creature daughter to understand a simple task like picking fruit
, Annah thought, grimacing.

Approaching the orchards beyond the settlement, Annah saw five massive, grayish, rough-skinned fruit-eaters. Taller than any of the lattice-and-grass houses in the settlement, the older fruit-eaters were grazing among the upper branches, their long, slender necks swaying here and there among the very tops of the fruit trees, choosing the most pungent and overripe fruits available.
The smaller, younger fruit-eaters, however, contented themselves with the lower branches, or fruits that fell to the ground.

Welcome
, Annah thought, eyeing them. The fruit-eaters would clean the orchards. If the fruit were left to rot, it would attract wasps, which Annah detested almost as much as she did snakes. Strangely enough, as large as the fruit-eaters were, she was not afraid of them; like most animals of the field, they tolerated humans. As Annah approached, she spoke to them wordlessly.
Forgive my intrusion and ignore me if you like; I am a nothing, here to gather a few morsels for my family
.

The great beasts continued to nuzzle the ground and pick through the trees, clearly agreeing with her:
A human … a female … a nothing
.

Shouldering her veil and bag, Annah cautiously climbed into the tree’s branches. Her fingers still ached, bruised where Yerakh had slapped them with the narrow club. Wearily, Annah picked her mother’s favorite green-golden sun fruit, which had a warm, inviting fragrance. Suddenly hungry, Annah chose one, removed the pungent rind, consumed the glowing sweet-sour segments, and continued her picking.

By now one of the youngest fruit-eaters was exhibiting a mild curiosity toward Annah. Three times she turned to another branch, only to have the young fruit-eater suddenly whooshing its humid, heavy-sweet breath directly into her face. There was a softness in those golden-brown eyes that made her touch the wrinkled gray skin of the creature’s neck. The feel of its skin was like the thick, toughened soles of her own feet.

One day you’ll be very old
, she thought to the young one.
You’ll be large and stately, and you will have no desire to commune
with a human-female-nothing. But I thank you. Three living creatures have thought kindly of me today. Perhaps I will continue to live
.

As if troubled by the dark turn of her thoughts, the young fruit-eater pulled away and rejoined its small herd. Seeming to be of one mind, they departed together, without haste. Annah sighed. Gloomily, she dropped the tart green-gold sun fruit into her bag, added a few tiny, bright yellow bitter-fruits, and heaped them with a cluster of purple-black vine fruits.
I’ll pick some of the sweet afals—the thin-skinned fruits—from the trees by the lodge
, she decided.
That, plus what I’ve already picked, ought to be enough for tonight
.

Glancing up at the sky, she saw the first violet hues of night, then the first hints of the glittering reds, pale blues, and gleaming whites of the stars. And the moon was shimmering already, soft and lovely as a sea-stone she had once seen about the neck of a food trader. The trader had given Yerakh some pure white salt, brought from the far edges of the land. Yerakh was so pleased with the salt that he took the man feasting with him that night.
Perhaps
, Annah thought hopefully,
Yerakh will be gone tonight, feasting with Naham. Then I’ma and the others won’t condemn me for running away
.

She turned toward the settlement, hurrying now. She didn’t want to be caught alone outside after dark. She was just approaching the sweetly scented afal trees near Yerakh’s lodge when she saw a man and a woman embracing beneath the shadows of the low branches. At first the face of the man was a mystery to Annah; she was too shocked at the sight of the woman to pay him heed. His beloved was her mother.

Annah’s first coherent thought was,
Yerakh will kill them both, I’ma and her lover
. Trembling, scared that they might sense her presence, Annah sank into the tall grasses to
hide. As she crouched in the sweet grass, a new idea, half-hope, half-fear, crossed her mind. If Parah used this new love to break free of Yerakh’s control, then their lives might change. But for good or bad?

Annah wanted to run away, but Parah would see her and be furious at being caught. It was best, Annah decided, to wait until her mother had parted from her beloved. She could hear them laughing softly in the shadows, murmuring intimacies to one another as they kissed. Mortified, Annah covered her ears. As soon as they left, she would go inside.
I can’t pick afals tonight. I’ma will know I’ve been in the trees, and I’ve been beaten enough for one day. I wish they would hurry. I’ma
, she scolded her mother in her mind,
your children will be waiting for you. Go inside!

Almost as if she could hear her daughter’s thoughts, Parah’s voice changed from inaudible intimacies to clear, tender urgency. “My family will return soon, and Yerakh will be angry if he finds us. Go now, please!”

“Yerakh will be feasting with Naham all night long,” her mother’s companion replied carelessly, laughing again.

By his laughter, Annah recognized him. He was Tseb-iy, a young, muscular, handsome—and much shorter—cousin to Naham.
But Tseb-iy’s not much older than Yerakh
, Annah thought indignantly.
Why is he kissing my I’ma?

She fumed as Tseb-iy kissed Parah again, whispering his farewells.
You’re fools, both of you
, Annah thought, watching them leave. When they were finally gone, Annah stood, walked around the opposite side of the lodge, and crept inside.

Two

“PUT THEM in a basket. Do you understand? In a basket,” Parah commanded, barely glancing up as Annah entered the lodge. Parah was busy as usual, arranging intricately carved wooden bowls and a basket of crisp grain cakes on mats set a prudent distance from the fire. Inhaling, Parah said, “You picked sun fruits; I can smell them.”

You sound pleased, I’ma
, Annah thought.
But I’m sure it’s not because I’ve brought you sun fruit
. Silently she placed the fruits in a wide, shallow basket in the far corner of the dusky lodge. There, protected by the darkness, she studied her mother.

Parah was beautiful in the flickering glow of the central fire. Her figure was full, yet graceful. And when she bent to add more wood to the flames, the ensuing burst of light revealed the radiance of her skin, a smile about her
lips, and a sparkle in her long-lashed dark eyes.

That wicked Tseb-iy has made you happy. You must love him. Did you love my father? I think not. But I mustn’t consider these things or I’ll go mad
.

A piercing whistle sounded outside the lodge, and a young man’s voice cried, “Have some food waiting, I’ma! The herds are penned for the night, and your children are dying of hunger!” Chathath, Annah’s second oldest brother, bounded into the lodge.

Annah shrank back into the darkness. Chathath was not as muscular or as hot-tempered as Yerakh, but he had sharp eyes and a cruel, cutting way with words.

Smiling impudently, Chathath shook his long dark hair as if he were an animal, then confronted Parah, mocking her. “Feed me, woman.”