Crown in the Stars (16 page)

“Did she say that?” Ra-Anan asked, setting the cup on its matching gold tray.

“No, Uncle, she said she had your permission, which was very tactful of her; don’t you agree?”

“Yes, amazingly, she’s learning some manners. But I must correct one misunderstanding: She
did
ask my permission to tell you, after you frightened her during your previous conversation.”

Feeling a reluctant twinge of guilt, Adoniyram said, “I regret frightening her, Master-Uncle, but I wish to discuss her news, not her. It’s true then: My mother wasn’t rightfully married to my father when I was born?”

Ra-Anan paused, then lifted his cup again. “No. She was not. But don’t let it concern you; Shoshannah will remain silent about this, and so will I—as I have been all these years. For the best interests of the Great City.”

For the best interests of Ra-Anan
, Adoniyram thought defiantly. He managed a polite smile. “May I ask, Uncle, what other secrets are being kept from me?”

“If the need arises,” Ra-Anan said, “rest assured, I will tell you whatever you must know to govern this kingdom.”

Adoniyram seethed, infuriated by his uncle’s secretiveness and arrogance. “Why should you say that I will govern here? If it’s true that you’ll outlive me, and if it’s true that my mother wasn’t rightfully married to the Great King, then it’s obvious that this kingdom will never be mine.”

“It is also obvious that our citizens love you far more than they love me or anyone else, except your Lady-Mother—who will soon squander their affections. Certainly you should govern here.” Ra-Anan took another sip from the shining cup.

You are taunting me
.

Before Adoniyram could say anything, Ra-Anan put down his cup, severe. “Now, unlike you, I do wish to discuss Shoshannah. She is, for a while at least, a member of my household. For her sake—and for yours—I ask you to treat her respectfully; I want no scandals.”

“There will be no scandals, Uncle.”
Unless they involve you or Lord Kuwsh or my foolish mother
. But his animosity swiftly faded against his frustrations and concerns. Not
long ago, Adoniyram had believed he could gain power and challenge Ra-Anan and Lord Kuwsh. Now, bound by their edicts, wondering if his life might be cut off before theirs, and shaken by this fresh knowledge of his own clouded heritage, he felt almost defeated. Ra-Anan, in particular, would control him.

This is what you wanted, isn’t it, Master?
he asked Ra-Anan in bitter silence.
You have me in your fist. How can I break free without killing you?

Another thought occurred to him then: Shoshannah might know whatever else Ra-Anan was hiding from him.
We’re going to have another talk
, Adoniyram decided.
As soon as I leave this place
.

Followed by Demamah—and closely watched by Perek—Shoshannah led Ma’khole into the main courtyard. Whatever joy she felt at regaining her cherished mare was dashed by the sight of servants scrubbing sand over the bloodstained bricks in the courtyard.

“Do you think they killed those men?” Shoshannah whispered to Demamah, fearful, as she untied her scuffed leather bag from Ma’khole’s back.

“There would have been more blood, I’m sure,” Demamah replied beneath her breath, looking upset as she helped with the leather cords. Shoshannah longed to ask what might have happened to the unfortunate men, but Perek was almost beside them now, and she didn’t dare risk angering him. No doubt he was the one who had carried out the beating. He had been disgustingly self-satisfied when he had come to fetch Shoshannah and Demamah from the stable.

Guarded by Perek, the two cousins exercised Ma’khole and groomed her until Adoniyram emerged from the house. He glanced up at the clouded sky, as if gauging it for rain. Then he approached Shoshannah and Demamah.

“Since our hunt has been ruined, come ride with me. Our Master Ra-Anan gave his permission, as long as Perek accompanies us.” Looking askance at Ma’khole, Adoniyram told Shoshannah, “You’ll need a horse—not

that.”

Defensive, Shoshannah said, “Don’t insult Ma’khole. My father gave her to me.”

“Oh? Why does he—a trained guardsman—allow you to ride this pretty toy?”

“Because she’s
safe
, as my father intended. And she’s not a toy; I love her.”

“You would.” Adoniyram beckoned two of his own guardsmen. To Shoshannah’s frustration, Adoniyram sent Ma’khole back to the stable, instructing the attendant-guardsmen to return with “proper” creatures. As they waited, Adoniyram said, “Don’t sulk; if we race, I’m sure you’d want to beat me. That little mare wouldn’t have a chance.”

He was right. Worse, Shoshannah realized, if she intended to escape, her chances would be improved if she had a faster animal; she would have to leave Ma’khole here in the Great City. The thought made her ill.

Adoniyram noticed her distress. “Are you still angry with me for insulting you earlier? Don’t be. I regret it.”

Distracted by his apology, she blinked, amazed. “Really? But you should hate me after everything I’ve said.”

“At least you tell me the truth.”

Shoshannah grimaced. “Sometimes I think lying would be easier.” Worried, she added, “I hope you’ll be well… after what I’ve told you.”

Almost inaudibly, he said, “I dread meeting my mother again. I’m rarely surprised by anything she does, but to abandon her husband and infant son…”

Listening to his vulnerably soft admission only intensified Shoshannah’s uneasiness. He was beguiling. Almost as appealing as her dear Kaleb. She studied her scraped leather boots, at a loss for words. Demamah’s slender sandaled feet approached her now, and Shoshannah was grateful for the interruption.

Meekly, eyeing Perek, who lingered nearby, Demamah spoke quietly to Adoniyram. “I asked Shoshannah’s forgiveness earlier, and she forgave me. I’m asking yours now. I regret that our parents have made it impossible for us to trust each other.”

Adoniyram gave Demamah a careful, thoughtful look, then murmured, “I say we should be more sociable and truthful whenever we can. Also, if certain matters are too dangerous for words, then perhaps we should understand one another in silence.”

Demamah relaxed visibly, as if a terrible burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Shoshannah was glad that they were negotiating with each other after separate lifetimes of mistrust.

Giving Demamah a teasing nudge, Shoshannah said, “I’m sure you two were ridiculous, quarreling children. Your wild cousins in the mountains wouldn’t have put up with you if we’d grown up together.”

“Oh?” Adoniyram grinned suddenly, seeming fascinated. “What would they have done to us?”

“They’d have tossed you into a cold lake or a snow
heap, depending upon the season—and they still might.” Shoshannah’s mood brightened as she imagined Adoniyram being pitched headlong into a bank of snow; she couldn’t help smiling.

“Well,” Demamah said lightly, “since there’s no snow or lake here, then I’m sure we are perfectly safe, and we can enjoy our morning together.”

“Shall we ride to the river?” Adoniyram suggested, as his attendant-guardsmen returned with a sandy horse for Demamah and a tawny-brown horse for Shoshannah.

Studying the lackluster beast fretfully, Shoshannah said, “I think you just want to throw me into the river for revenge.”

“I don’t. Yet.” As he spoke, Adoniyram’s expression darkened, slipping into gloom. “Perhaps I should throw myself in.”

“Don’t say such a thing!” Demamah protested, alarmed.

Knowing she had caused his despair, Shoshannah winced. “You wouldn’t try to drown yourself, would you?”

“They’d rescue me,” Adoniyram muttered, tilting his head toward his guardsmen.

“Then they’d blame me.” Shoshannah raised her voice as Perek drew nearer. “And, no doubt, Perek would beat me.”

“I will, Daughter of Keren,” Perek growled. He motioned her toward the tawny horse and “helped” her onto it roughly, causing the creature to sidestep skittishly, which agitated Demamah’s horse.

Shoshannah quickly guided her horse away from Demamah’s, to prevent a small skirmish. Obviously fearing the same thing, Adoniyram and his guardsmen hurried outside the gate to their own horses. Now, unexpectedly, the ruddy, pert little maidservant, Ormah,
rushed from the house to Demamah, saying, “I’ve been sent to accompany you.” She flashed a cold look at Shoshannah, as if blaming her.

Another enemy
, Shoshannah thought, resigned. She waited as Perek helped Ormah up to ride behind Demamah, then guided Shoshannah’s horse after his, outside the gate.

Adoniyram was waiting and nodded as soon as he saw Shoshannah. “Perhaps we should ride to the tower instead. Have you seen it yet?”

“How could I not see such a mountain of brick?” Shoshannah asked, keeping her voice down, knowing Perek would slap her for being rude to Adoniyram.

Adoniyram looked mildly exasperated. “Let me say this more clearly: I’m sure you haven’t climbed the tower and visited the new temple yet. We’ll go there instead of the river.”

To Shoshannah’s distress, Adoniyram edged Demamah and Perek away, forcing them to trail behind as they rode along the wide paved market street. Demamah seemed to not mind, but Perek and Ormah would probably report this insult to Ra-Anan and Zeva’ah. Ormah had raised her pretty eyebrows, and Perek scowled, displeased.

Some of the men in the marketplace also looked displeased, but many of the women exhaled squeals and jubilant cries of welcome to Adoniyram—and to Shoshannah. “Son of Heaven…”

“He’s riding with our Lady—she’s been welcomed again.”

“She’s returned to us!”

They’re confusing me with my I’ma
, Shoshannah thought, dismayed. She cast a nervous glance at Adoniyram. He was smiling, seeming guileless, but watching the citizens
and listening to their reactions. “You
planned
this, O Son of Heaven,” Shoshannah muttered, fuming.

He answered with a mock-innocent shrug. She longed for the strength to toss him off his horse. Instead, she suggested sarcastically, “Perhaps we should go to the river later.”

“Behave or we will, Cousin.”

Now Shoshannah suspected that Adoniyram had merely pretended to consider killing himself earlier to gain her sympathy. He was too smug and proud to want to die. She pointedly ignored him for the remainder of their ride through the Great City.

At the end of the broad market street, they rode across a wide bitumen-coated wooden bridge. Shoshannah was alarmed by the clatter of their horses’ hooves over the bridge, and by the silted depths of the canal waters below. Just beyond this unsettling overpass, they entered the gates of the wall-enclosed lands surrounding the tower. Shoshannah stared upward at the structure, amazed. How could mere humans build such a would-be mountain?
O Most High
, she thought,
why do they even want such a thing?

Rebellion… contempt… rejection …
The words came to her like tiny currents in the breeze. Was she imagining
Him
in those dejected words? She shivered, staring at the tower, unable to calculate the sheer numbers of bricks and years it had taken to build to such heights—it seemed to threaten the sky.

Frowning, she asked Adoniyram, “Why do they pour all their strength and time into this tower?”

“You’ve said the very word: strength. Through this tower, we show our domination of the earth. Also, the citizens will give their devotions to our Shemesh in the temple above.” He was unexpectedly quiet, causing her to
stare at him. Did he question the wisdom of building such an astounding structure? Meeting her gaze then, he grinned disarmingly, his quick-changing nature again taking her by surprise.

“Let’s go up inside; perhaps we can startle some of the priests awake.” Turning, he called out, “Perek, guard the horses. Ormah, stay at least ten paces behind us.”

Perek glowered ominously, and Ormah eyed the endless stairs with poorly concealed dread. Demamah, however, dismounted willingly, gracefully, with the help of a guardsman. She gave Shoshannah a look that begged her to humor Adoniyram.