Crown in the Stars (31 page)

He saw the shadow of the next strike coming and gritted his teeth; Perek jabbed his blunted pole into Kal’s rump, making him yelp. Around them, all the guardsmen snickered.
Enough
.

Judging Perek’s position, Kaleb pivoted, ducked, and slammed an end of his own weapon into Perek’s groin. Perek dropped onto the damp street, screeching horribly. The other guardsmen froze. Seeing their shock, Kaleb said, “I didn’t intend to hit him quite
that
low. Perhaps he doesn’t want children.”

As a crowd of citizens gathered to stare and laugh, the other guardsmen hastily grabbed the anguished Perek by his arms, dragging him inside the gate, where they were supposed to present themselves to their Master Ra-Anan. Kaleb followed, trying to guess what sort of punishment the master might inflict upon him.

Ra-Anan emerged from his residence, studied Perek’s curled-up form on the courtyard pavings, and frowned.

“Who did this?”

Bowing politely as he’d been taught, Kaleb knelt. “I did, Master Ra-Anan—in self-defense.”

Perek managed to pull himself upright, shaking his head in denial, rasping thinly, “An… unprovoked attack!”

When no one else denied this lie, Kaleb thought,
So, I

get blamed
.

Master Ra-Anan’s deep-set hooded eyes narrowed, almost closing. “My men
never
strike one another. You are undisciplined and rebellious.”

“Perek attacked me first,” Kal explained. “The others are afraid to tell the truth. Perhaps you should question them in secret.”

Dangerously quiet, Master Ra-Anan asked, “Do I take orders from you?”

“Never, my lord.”

“Master.”

“Master.” Kaleb felt his punishment coming. “Do as you think best.”
Wrong
, he realized as soon as he said the words. Again, he had told Ra-Anan what to do.

His thin lips curling, Master Ra-Anan stared at Kaleb ominously, while speaking to the other guardsmen. “Ghid’ohn, Dibriy, Ye’uwsh, escort him to the tower grounds. Hand him over to the commanders there. Tell them that if he causes trouble, they can entomb him inside a wall.”

As they went out the courtyard gate, Kal told Ghid’ohn, “Don’t worry; I won’t fight you. You still have my horse.”

Ghid’ohn shook his dark head, disgusted. “As your brother always says, ‘Shut up!’ If you can behave, I’m sure you’ll be out of there in a few weeks.”

A few weeks more of no Shoshannah. Kaleb sighed.

Most High, not that I’m complaining—I lost my temper—but did I truly deserve this?

At nightfall, in the shadows of his own secluded courtyard, Adoniyram listened to his informant, the wiry, usually ineffective Dibriy. “He felled Perek, my lord! Right there in the street, as if he’s been felling men Perek’s size all his life.”

“Is he a good bowman?” Adoniyram asked, pretending disinterest. “If he isn’t, then I’ve no use for him.”

“He had bows and arrows when we captured him,” Dibriy said. “And he didn’t look starved, so I’d say he’s a good hunter.”

“I suppose that’s a start. Tell me about this man.”

Under the watch of a weapon-laden guard, Kaleb stepped onto a dipping, swaying reed boat and lifted a coated basket of a dark, resinous substance onto his shoulder. Bracing himself, he climbed the canal bank and hauled the basket over to his fellow laborers, who were waiting with a pair of oxen that bore a load of the resin-filled baskets.

The two leathery, disgruntled workers, Qasheh and Zeh-abe, scowled when they saw him. “We’re supposed to hurry, Kal,” Zeh-abe complained. “The overseer is waiting, and I don’t want to miss my evening ration.”

“If we miss the rations, then you can have mine,” Kal said mildly. To his amazement, Zeh-abe looked pleased. Kaleb decided not to enlighten him. He tied the basket onto the nearest ox, and Qasheh rapped the oxen forward with a staff as Zeh-abe led them from the canal bank.

“Forget missing the rations,” Qasheh warned. “The overseer will have us beaten if we’re too slow. Kaleb, now that I think of it, why don’t you thrash the overseer? If you knocked Perek over, you could manage
him.”

Reaching up to steady the slime-laden baskets, Kal said, “I don’t need any more trouble. I want to be done here as soon as possible.”

“Do you think you’ll be pardoned before us? We’ve been here in the mud and slime for almost a year.”

Curious, Kaleb asked, “What did you do?”

“What everyone does,” Qasheh answered belligerently. “We got drunk and wandered into the wrong house. When the owner confronted us, we realized our mistake and left. He went to Master Ra-Anan and accused us of beating him and stealing a cloak.”

“And did you?” Kal doubted the surly man’s story.

“I
didn’t steal anything,” Zeh-abe said, indignant. “I don’t even remember that night.”

“That must be maddening,” Kaleb soothed, adjusting his hold on the baskets, aware of their guard, who was drawing closer now, within earshot.

“It is maddening,” Zeh-abe said. “I’m not guilty, but here I am, suffering for it. And I was beaten half to death by Perek too.”

“Who hasn’t been?” Qasheh snorted. “I hope you gave him a lifelong injury, Kaleb.”

I hope I didn’t
. Kal resolved to work with someone else tomorrow.

Coerced by the impatient guard, they led the oxen thudding over the timber bridge toward the tower. Kaleb looked upward as they passed through the tower gate, still amazed that humans were building this brick-and-slime mountain. More amazing to Kal was that ordinary citizens apparently came to work on this structure freely, side by side with the less fortunate men who slaved here against their will. The citizens were proud of their tower, openly declaring that it was their way to heaven—as if they could force their way into the presence of the Most High, whom they refused to acknowledge.

This pile of bricks wouldn’t help their lofty ambitions,
Kaleb knew. Nor would the Most High.
Aren’t You angry with them?
Kal wondered, gazing upward at the clouding heavens.
I fear I’d be less patient than You, O Most High
.

“You!” An irritable, thick-bearded guard to Kaleb’s right prodded him fiercely with the butt of a spear. “Get up those steps; you’ve been ordered there. Move!”

“Atop the tower?” Kaleb asked, startled, trying to bide for time to reason through this new difficulty.

“Yes!
Move!
” the bearded guard snapped, his brown eyes small and glaring. “He’s been waiting long enough.”

He who?
Unwillingly, Kaleb mounted the steps. The bearded guard followed him, exasperated, pushing him along. As he climbed, Kaleb heard Zeh-abe proclaiming loudly, “I get his ration! He gave it to me…”

Work would be interesting tomorrow on an empty belly, Kaleb decided. Praying to face this unexpected situation with dignity, he calmed himself and looked around. The higher he climbed, the more Kaleb appreciated the view from the tower. A light breeze skimmed his face. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was on a mountainside, free again. But he didn’t dare stop and close his eyes—the guard wouldn’t put up with it.

At the top of the unending stairs, a voice greeted them, amused but cool and watchful. “No doubt this is the one.”

To his left Kaleb saw a dark-curled, polished young man near his own age, clothed in a plain wool tunic, a broad crimson belt, and thickly-laced boots. If this young man had not been giving him such a critical, hard-eyed look, Kaleb would have dismissed him as a vain and spoiled city boy.
He has power here
, Kal decided, and bowed as he’d been taught.

The young man looked surprised, and he mocked Kal genially. “I was told, Kaleb, that you have no manners, and a stench to level the city—perhaps even this tower.”

“I’ve learned about baths here,” Kaleb answered, liking him, not bothering to suppress a grin. “But manners are a struggle.”

“All the better.” Leaning forward, the young man addressed the bearded guard politely. “Thank you for bringing this Kaleb to me. What’s your name?”

“Dawkar, my lord,” the guard said, bowing, ridiculously pleased.

“Dawkar,” the Young Lord repeated, as if memorizing the name. “Thank you again. If he doesn’t behave, I’ll return him to you.”

Bowing a second time at this courteous dismissal, the guard went down the tower steps, almost swaggering. Kaleb would have enjoyed the man’s delusion of triumph, except that this young “lord” was watching him, judging him coolly.

Smiling, the polished youth said, “I’m Adoniyram. I hear you toppled the dreaded Perek.”

“After Perek struck me too many times to count, my lord. I regret losing my temper.” Kaleb was uneasy, realizing that this Adoniyram was Sharah’s son. “Perek’s going to be after my blood now, I’m sure.”

“You might fare better with my men,” Adoniyram said. “You’re bigger than any of them; just don’t pound on them too much.”

“If they don’t attack me, I won’t touch them.” Kaleb remained agreeable, but he wanted to argue. He didn’t want to join this Adoniyram’s household, which was removed from Ra-Anan’s and, therefore, from Shoshannah.
But the Young Lord was already walking down the tower steps, talking as if the decision was made.

“I’m told you can hunt; that’s good. My uncle, our Master Ra-Anan, has been promising to send me a bowman for some time. Since you’ve caused him enough trouble that he’s tossed you here, I’ll take you into my service. You’ll find I’m not quite as demanding as my uncle, but I do expect to be obeyed.” He paused, glancing back at Kal, hard and serious. “I also believe in punishing my men if they push me too far.”

“I’ll remember, my lord,” Kaleb said, trying to remain hopeful.

“Have you eaten today?” Adoniyram asked. He sounded genuinely concerned.

“I gave my ration to someone else.”

“You’ll get another. You’ll also have to follow me to my residence on foot. And my guards will accompany you so you won’t ‘lose your way.’”

Reluctantly, temporarily accepting his fate, Kaleb followed the Young Lord down the stairs, wondering at the unknowable will of the Most High.