Counted With the Stars (20 page)

24
TH
DAY
OUT
OF
E
GYPT

T
he sun-disk peered at me over the misty eastern hills across the water. The outline of the distant ridge stood jagged against the pale morning sky.

I sat on the shore, arms folded across my knees. Sleep clouded my eyes, a remnant of my restless night. My head ached, and the rising sun seemed to refract off the waters more like knives than diamonds today. I had slipped out of my tent, driven by a desperate need to meet the sunrise, just as I used to at the Nile.

The brush of the waves against the shore had called to me for hours, their gentle rise and fall an invitation to come and dig my toes in the sand, to trade the toss and turn upon my sleeping mat for the push and pull of the sea. Yet the still morning brought no answers, no direction.

“A restful sound, is it not?”

The unfamiliar voice that broke the silence matched a stranger's face. An older man stood next to me like a tall pillar, with his hands behind his back, as if he had always been there, a fixture on this beach, among the time-worn stones that dotted
the shoreline. Although his beard was threaded with silver, his face seemed almost ageless, and his brown eyes were lined like one who had spent a lifetime in the sun and aged with cares I could only guess at. One of the Hebrews who had slaved to carry bricks for Pharaoh, no doubt.

He was a stranger, but I sensed he was no threat to me, and I turned again to face the sea. “It is.”

In silence we watched as the sunrise unfurled in the east, spreading varicolored wings along the horizon.

“What's over there?” I whispered, as much to myself as the man who stood beside me.

“The land . . . of the Midianites.” His cheek quirked, as if a memory had struck him. “And a beautiful bird . . . that dances on the wind.” He spoke slowly, each word chosen with great care, reminding me of the cadence of Jumo's speech with strangers who did not understand his mangled words.

I inhaled, for one moment imagining the freedom that winged creatures must feel with the wind beneath their feathers, allowing the breezes to push them higher and higher until the earth below them fell away.

“Where . . . where do you . . . hail from?” He searched my face intently, his warm smile dispelling any suspicion I had after his abrupt appearance.

“Iunu.”

“Ah . . . I know it well. The city of . . . the sun.”

A wave of longing for my home crashed over me, and tears burned my eyes.

“You want . . . to return.” His plain statement cut through any pretense I might have considered using.

I nodded.

“Do you not . . . want . . . to be free?”

“But I am not free.”

He raised his brow, a signal for me to explain. His face was
so kind, and his grandfatherly concern so apparent, that I was helpless to stop myself from continuing.

“I have traded slavery to my mistress back in Egypt for slavery to this Yahweh, this destructive god who cares nothing for me or my family.” I scooped a handful of sand in my palm, then let it trickle out in a slow stream through my fingers. “And now I have a chance to return, and I have to take it. I must. I cannot just sit here and watch my brother and mother die.”

The man did not answer. He stood in silence so long I decided that he had nothing more to say to me. I stood and wiped the sand from my tunic, preparing to go.

“Yahweh is . . . not Pharaoh. He is . . . not . . . not a slavemaster. He came . . . for his children . . . trapped in slavery, to . . . set us free . . . and he protects us, even now.” He pointed to the Cloud at the end of the beach, hovering there like a watchful father eyeing his children.

“But I am not one of his people, why would he protect me?”

The man turned to me, his eyes burning with passion. “He c-c-created you . . . he knows you . . . and will . . . m-m-make himself known to you.” As his tongue tangled with the unwieldy words, spoken too quickly to temper the stutter, understanding dawned in my mind.

Mosheh
.

Shira had told me of his speech impediment and how his brother Aharon spoke for him. The realization must have shown on my face because Mosheh smiled and nodded, acknowledging his identity. My own tongue was too knotted to reply.

He placed a large hand on my shoulder. “Ask him . . . to . . . reveal himself.” He squeezed gently, gave me a conspiratorial wink, and then walked away, back toward the Cloud that hovered near the southern end of the beach.

Sayaad came that afternoon, without his usual offering for my mother. He sat with us by the fire for a few moments making small talk, but he kept crossing and uncrossing his arms and glancing toward the gaping wadi entrance, where hundreds of men took turns standing guard against the inevitable.

Eben had taken his turn just that morning, joining the fruitless effort with only a short sword and a dagger and leather armor to protect his body. I steeled my mind against the terrible images conjured by the thought of Eben standing against Pharaoh and his merciless army. An army that no doubt would include the man I had meant to marry.

Akhum, a second-born son, would be bearing down upon us at any moment, bent on our destruction. I could see it in my mind: Akhum and Eben locked in battle, bloody and bruised, and it confused me that it was only Eben's outcome I cared for. I blinked the mirage away as I brought my thoughts back to the handsome man next to me, the one who had offered to whisk my family and me away from the destruction hurtling toward us.

But right now Sayaad was on edge. He shook his head as he gazed into the fire, as though talking to himself.

“What is wrong?” I asked.

“These Hebrews and their foolishness about a faceless god.” He rolled his eyes. “I just can't bear any more. How can you endure such ridiculousness?”

I considered his assessment and shrugged. “I saw what I saw in Egypt.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Natural causes, all explainable.”

“Perhaps. But the Hebrews don't seem to question it.” I leaned forward with my arms folded across my knees, thinking of the conversation I'd had with Mosheh, when he'd told me to ask Yahweh to reveal himself. Would he? I glanced toward
the Cloud, which had been sparking bolts of blue fire all day, as if in rebuke for my disbelief and my desire to put distance between it and my family. How would Yahweh manifest himself to me? A burning bush like Shira had told me Yahweh used to appear to Mosheh?

“How do you explain the Cloud?” I pointed toward the subject of my thoughts.

He swiped a hand in the air. “Sorcery. I have no doubt Pharaoh's priests have the same power. It's just a little smoke.”

The flippant statement seemed to contradict the reality. I could not imagine such a huge, fiery cloud conjured from mere human means.

“Fools.” He snorted.

“Well, going along with these fools was the only way I could save my brother, so if I have to play along and pretend to follow their imaginary god, I'll do it.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew them to be untrue. And then I saw Shira out of the corner of my eye, standing at the door of her tent, her stricken face pale as she locked gazes with me, her usual sisterly smile replaced by an expression of haunted betrayal.

Before I could lurch to my feet and follow her, to correct the hateful words that had spewed from my mouth, she turned and fled the campsite. I felt the blood drain from my face. I had wounded the only person who had sacrificed herself for me.

Sayaad suddenly wrapped his fingers around my wrist and whispered into my ear. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Let's go for a walk down by the water.” He smiled and tipped his head toward the shore.

Although I was tempted to refuse and go apologize to Shira, his sky-blue eyes, hypnotic in their intensity, beckoned me to follow.

We wound our way through the camps to the shoreline. The water was so still, it barely rippled along the edge. How clear it was—the coral swirled patterns of green and brown on the sea floor as far out into the water as I could see.

I took off my sandals to walk in the water and let the sand seep through my toes.

Sayaad strode north with his hands grasped firmly behind his back.

Trying to keep pace with his long legs, I stumbled along next to him. “Where are we going?”

Sayaad stopped and grasped my hand, yanking me to a stop. He unleashed the full power of his piercing blue eyes on me. “Let's go. Now.”

“What?” I said. “Go where?”

He jerked his chin toward the garrison. “There is a small trail there along the edge of the sea. It leads to a wider road that threads its way back north and meets with the Way of the Wilderness again.”

My mouth hung open.

“We have to go now. The army will be here before the sun sets tonight.”

“They're almost here?” My voice pitched high. “How do you know?”

He raised a brow. “My friends have been in close contact with the army. We've been appraised of their progress.”

The terrible truth of his statement landed on my chest like a thousand bricks. “You
are
a spy, just like Eben said.”

His lip quirked. “You didn't really believe I was going to throw in my lot with these crazy slaves, did you?” He barked a laugh. “Pharaoh has offered a healthy reward for information on this horde. He has been waiting for just the right time to claim his property.”

“Let's go.” He pulled me forward.

“No.” I tugged, resisting his lead. “I can't go now. I have to get my mother and Jumo. I haven't even told them we are leaving.”

He shook his head. “No time. We have to escape right now.”

“No!” I said, louder. I stopped walking and tried to free myself from his grasp. “I won't leave without my family.”

“They will just slow us down.” He pulled my arm again.

“I am not going anywhere without my mother and my brother. Let me go.” He was squeezing my hand now, and try as I might, I could not slip from his grasp.

He yanked me close and grabbed my other arm. His upper lip curled, and his eyes sparked, cold and dangerous. “You are coming with me. I will not have wasted my time for nothing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, still struggling to pull away.

“You think I've spent my days at your campfire for my health? No, my beauty. I have been planning this from the start, since I saw you that night with a broken wagon wheel. You are mine, and you are coming with me.”

Eben was right, Sayaad was not who he seemed. He talked sweetly to my mother and offered flattering words to me, and like the fool I was, I'd believed he was a kind former slave, wanting nothing but to help my family. But all he wanted was to own me, just like Akhum. And looking into his eyes, I saw that he did not plan on giving me a choice. I would be taken into slavery once again, to satisfy Sayaad's lust.

He gripped my arms so tightly, my hands started to go numb.

“Please,” I whimpered. “Let me go.” Tears stung my eyes.

His face curved into an awful smile. “Never, my lovely lotus blossom.”

“Release her.” Eben's voice came from behind us.

Sayaad's head snapped around. “Leave us alone.”

“I will not. Let Kiya go.” Eben circled around us, the fierce determination on his face causing my heart to surge high into my throat.

“We are leaving, Kiya and I.” Sayaad pulled again.

I dug my toes into the sand. “No, I am not going anywhere with you!”

“There, the lady has spoken. She has no intention of leaving with you, Sayaad.” Eben moved closer. “Now, let her go.”

The two men glared at each other, neither one backing down.

Keeping his grip on my left arm, Sayaad drew a short sword from a scabbard tucked invisibly into his kilt. He held the blade to my throat, and I stopped struggling.

“I am not about to lose my prize. I have waited too patiently to lose now.”

Eben widened his stance. “Why would you destroy your prize? She is no good to you dead.”

Sayaad shrugged. “True. But at least I know you won't have her. I've seen the way you look at her. Your own lust rivals my own.” His laughter curled my stomach.

“You know nothing,” Eben growled. “Let her go.”

Sayaad leaned to whisper in my ear, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Eben. “I'd rather watch your blood sink into this sand than know that this Hebrew dog has you.”

Silver flashed through the air. Sayaad roared and dropped his hand from my arm to grab his own, taking two steps backward. Eben's dagger was buried deep in Sayaad's bicep, and blood snaked down his arm, dripping to the sand.

In his surprise at Eben's attack, Sayaad had dropped his sword. Eben grabbed me and picked up the sword in one move.

“Now, leave.” Eben gestured toward the fortress with the sword.