Crown in the Stars (11 page)

“But she’s already said that she doesn’t want to go out onto the steppes alone,” Mithqah whispered, thinking aloud. “Perhaps I could bring help to her…”

“You
cannot
bring her dear mother here,” Peletah said, agitated.

Brisk tapping sounded at the door. Mithqah looked up, praying that it would be Shoshannah, freed and eager to return home.

Instead, a tiny, engaging woman with bright dark eyes
entered the home, led by the now-silent young craftsman who had been with Tso’bebaw and Peletah in the marketplace that morning.

Mithqah slumped unhappily again. But Peletah sighed as if thankful. The newcomer immediately crossed over to the hearth to kneel beside Peletah.

“Tell me everything,” she said, mournful.

After hearing Peletah’s emotional, hand-fluttering explanation of the day’s events, the tiny, bright-eyed woman sighed and said to Yelahlah and Mithqah, “Your Shoshannah has more friends than you realize, my daughters. And if you do bring or send anyone to free her, then send them to me first—I am Meherah, wife of Yabal the potter. My son Lawkham was the Lady Keren’s guardsman, with my adoptive son, Zehker. They both loved her, and who could blame them? But tell me, do you have news of my Zehker? I’ve heard nothing of him since he took our Lady Keren from the Great City.”

“Zehker?” Mithqah stared at Meherah, confused. Then she realized aloud, “He’s Zekaryah… tall and severe and the best in our tribe with horses and weapons.”

“That must be my Zehker,” Meherah sighed, clasping her hands together, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “So he is well?”

“He married I’ma-Keren,” Yelahlah breathed, delighted. “Shoshannah is his daughter. I was scared of him as a child—but he’s a good man. I’ma-Keren loves him.”

Meherah beamed at her. “I hoped you could tell me something about him! I knew it wasn’t safe for him to come here or to send word after turning against the Great King, but… Oh, how my Lawkham would laugh to hear this news!”

“But where is your Lawkham now?” Mithqah asked.
She regretted the words at once; Peletah dabbed at her eyes, while Meherah’s smile faded.

“You don’t know… The Great King killed my dear Lawkham when he accidentally touched our Lady Keren.”

“Your son was the young man she still grieves for?” Mithqah asked, horrified. “I’ma-Keren told Shoshannah his story.”

“Yes,” Meherah said gently. “The Lady Keren hasn’t forgotten him; I
am
glad. Others remember his death here, and they’ve blamed her. But it was that Nimr-Rada; he threw the spear that killed my Lawkham! Our Lady Keren—and my Zehker—retrieved his body from the river for my sake. They risked their lives to honor him, I will always be grateful for that.” Her eyes brightened again. “So Shoshannah is the daughter of my Zehker and his Keren? Then she’s my granddaughter! We will help her in every way we can, won’t we, my Ezriy?”

The young craftsman, seated just behind her, nodded. His eyes were as bright as his mother’s. “Of course we will, I’ma.”

“But Shoshannah won’t want you to put yourselves in danger for her sake,” Mithqah objected.

“Oh, we will be careful,” Meherah promised.

Grateful, Mithqah murmured, “May the Most High bless you for caring.”

“He has, child.”

They talked quietly for the remainder of the evening. Mithqah was c
omforted enough to eat, then to fall asleep. If she had to leave Shoshannah here—at least for a while—then it was good to know that Meherah, Tso’bebaw, and Peletah were here as friends. If only Shoshannah could know it; she might feel better.

Protect her, O Most High
.

Six

“THEY ARE WAITING for you,” Demamah told Shoshannah, toneless, not looking at her in the flickering lamplight.

She’s been sent like a servant
, Shoshannah thought, pitying the girl yet again. She rose from the fleece-padded bed in the comfortable little sleeping room where she had been instructed to wait until the others had eaten. Shoshannah was certain they had neglected her during the meal to emphasize that she was not a welcomed guest in their home; she was an enemy.

“Wait,” Demamah said, as they were about to leave the room. She looked at Shoshannah now, fearful. “I beg you, Cousin, for the sake of peace… when we enter into the presence of the Lady Sharah and her son and the Lord Kuwsh, you must fold your hands before you and bow
politely. Like this.” She demonstrated an elegant bow, her straight black hair gleaming in the lamplight.

“For the sake of peace? Are they being more quarrelsome now than they were this afternoon?”

Demamah’s luminous, long-lashed eyes widened. “No, but wasn’t this afternoon horrible enough? I’d think you would want to avoid another slap from Perek.”

“I think you’re right.” Another thought occurred to Shoshannah. “So the Lady Sharah has a son here? My I’ma never mentioned him.”

“He is Adoniyram. You saw him today, seated near his mother. Sometimes you will hear people call him Son of Heaven. He was born after the Lady Keren left the Great City. After the death of He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies.”

“Why should they call him ‘Son of Heaven,’ or Lady Sharah ‘Queen of the Heavens,’ when they are ordinary people?”

“Because the people believe that the Lady Sharah is their Protectoress, and that Adoniyram is the Promised One who will restore us all to the perfection that existed when the earth began.” Nervously Demamah changed the subject. “We must go. Please, say as little as possible. Perhaps they’ll become tired of questioning you if you’re dull.”

“Do you think I can be dull?” Shoshannah pretended to be concerned.

Demamah eyed her seriously. “I don’t know. But you should try.”

“You don’t joke much, do you?”

Hesitant, Demamah said, “This is a very formal household. My parents are… important.”

“For your sake, I wish they weren’t,” Shoshannah said, making a face.

Demamah gave her a weak smile. “They’re waiting.”

I think you’re not my enemy at all
, Shoshannah thought, satisfied. “I give you my word, Cousin, I’ll be as dull as possible.”

Demamah led Shoshannah from the hushed sleeping room into a narrow, lamplit passage. To their left, a reed doorway stood partly open with a tempting starlit view of a small private courtyard, with its own tree and a garden, which softened the edges of an enclosing mud-brick wall. Shoshannah longed to run outside, but Demamah hastened onward through the dim passage. At the end of the passage was a thickly layered, sound-muffling curtain. Pushing it aside, Demamah led Shoshannah into the huge, mural-painted main room.

Shoshannah fixed her gaze on the braided grass floor mats, but she was aware of Demamah’s every move. When her cousin executed a perfect formal bow, Shoshannah copied her. And when Demamah knelt, swiftly smoothing her skirts beneath her knees with a fluid motion, Shoshannah did the same. She could feel all her aching, pulled muscles complaining. She could also feel everyone staring at her. Unwilling to look at them, she studied a collection of copper trays before her, littered with delicate crusts, bones, herb-flecked pools of oil, and fruit pits—the remains of their evening meal. Not tempting enough to make her wish she’d been invited.

“At least she’s clean now,” the Lady Sharah observed tartly.

I was traveling, Great Lady
, Shoshannah thought.
Let me see you travel with no servants and remain clean, sweet smelling, and lovely
. But even as she thought this, Shoshannah chided herself.
Be careful; don’t let them make you angry. Perek is eager to slap you again
.

“Look at me,” Ra-Anan commanded. Shoshannah looked warily.

He stared at her hard, suspicious, as if cutting her to pieces in his mind. At last he sat back and said, “Zehker.”

Zehker?
Shoshannah frowned. What was he talking about?

“He’s her father,” Ra-Anan said to the others. “She may look like her mother, but her expression just now was
his
. He was my student for years, and he was Keren’s guardsman. According to witnesses, he aided Keren in her conspiracy against the Great King. He’s the obvious choice.”

“That awful wooden-faced Zehker!” Sharah exclaimed, making Shoshannah glance at her. The Queen of the Heavens scowled, her face freakishly pale and malicious. “He hated Keren at one time, I assure you.”

“I never trusted him,” Kuwsh said decisively, setting his cup on a tray.

Zehker. Zekaryah. Father, did you change your name?
Shoshannah felt ill. And angry. Clearly, her parents would be killed if they were ever caught in the Great City. She looked down at her hands, folded tightly in her lap.
I won’t talk about I’ma and Father with them. I won’t!

“I’ve guessed the truth, haven’t I?” Ra-Anan asked, so smug that Shoshannah seethed.

“Does my father’s name matter? If I’m going to die anyway—”

“Cooperate, and you’ll live,” Kuwsh said, as if granting a favor. “We want your mother, not you.”

“Why do you want to kill her, when you know she was only defending herself and her family against your Great-King son? Your generation might outlive hers anyway! And she will outlive me, no matter what, so I—”

“Stop!” Ra-Anan glared at her forbiddingly as his wife,
Zeva’ah, sucked in a breath and glanced at their daughter. Demamah stared at Shoshannah, clearly bewildered.

The young Adoniyram leaned forward, shaking his head as if he hadn’t understood. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t know
, Shoshannah realized. But he should. She blurted out, “Our First Father Shem and all the northern tribal leaders have agreed that the younger generations are aging faster than their parents. We’ll die before they do.”

“Ignore her,” Zeva’ah said coldly, recovering. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“You’re a little tale-bearing traitor, like your mother!” Sharah accused.

Shoshannah stiffened. “My mother
never
betrayed you as you betrayed her, and you know it!”

Outraged, Sharah clawed toward Shoshannah. Her son restrained her, appealing, “Mother, be careful; she’s half wild.” But Adoniyram scowled at Shoshannah as if he wanted to slap her himself.

The Lady Achlai, who had been silent, kneeling beside her husband, said weakly, “The child is telling the truth.”

“She’s not!” Sharah cried.

“This is nothing but a rumor spread by our enemies to create chaos for us,” Ra-Anan said to Demamah and Adoniyram. “If I had thought it was the truth, I would have told you before.” He stared at Shoshannah fear-somely. “You will never speak of this again, or you will be punished as others have been. I will not have turmoil in these lands because of a tale spread by a foolish girl.”

Shoshannah complied, bowing her head.
I wish you were right, but I fear you are lying to them, and to yourself
.

“We should have Perek beat you bloody!” Sharah said,
apparently still furious that Shoshannah had dared to reprimand her. But before she could insist that Shoshannah be punished, Adoniyram stood.

“Mother, let’s leave this place
now.”

Brooding, Adoniyram sat on a darkened terrace of the tower. Beside him, Rab-Mawg pretended to analyze the stars, but Adoniyram knew better; the priest’s eyes were flickering here and there, agitated in the torchlight.

“Say it!” Adoniyram snapped, losing his much-practiced caution. “Do you think she’s right? Will those two outlive me?”

“I’ve heard this rumor before, and I believe it’s false,” Rab-Mawg answered stiffly. “But she obviously believes it. Or else she is making trouble.”

Adoniyram calmed himself, reasoning aloud. “We should try to learn the truth about this story. She apparently heard it from those Ancient Ones. And I don’t believe she’s a deliberate troublemaker—she’s in enough trouble now without making more for herself. Anyway, what would she gain by spreading such a rumor if it’s false? And if it’s true… her own years will also be shortened; she
is
of our generation.” Quietly, he added, “Perhaps that’s why I prevented my mother from attacking her.”