Crown in the Stars (43 page)

“Here.” Demamah offered Ormah a basket of plucked birds. “That ought to be enough for the evening meal. Does Tabbakhaw really want more?”

“Will you argue with her?” the maidservant demanded huffily. “I won’t. When you’ve finished the rest of those birds and the fish, you’ll have to bring them to the kitchen. Hurry.” Even as she spoke, Ormah rushed back into the house.

Demamah stared after her, perturbed. “She’s being very bossy. If Mother hears her talking in such a way…”

“I agree—though I’m not one who should talk about manners.” Shoshannah sighed, gutting and rinsing another fish. “At least I don’t have lessons today; soon Rab-Mawg will try to teach me prayers to honor their Shemesh; then he’ll try to kill me.”

“Please, don’t talk that way.” Demamah shoved a fistful of dark feathers into a nearby basket. “Just obey him, Shoshannah, I beg you.”

Shoshannah tossed the cleaned fish into her basket and reached for the next one. “How do I pray to a heartless object, Demamah? I can’t. Also, he expects me to wear ‘ceremonial’ apparel and ornaments from some of the tradesmen.”

“Just wear the garments and gold,” Demamah advised. “And act forgetful. That should gain you some time.”

“He probably won’t believe me if I pretend to forget.

What could I do then?”

“I don’t know.” Demamah didn’t look at her. “Is your

Most High worth all this, Shoshannah? Is He worth your life?”

“Without Him I wouldn’t be alive anyway,” Shoshannah said, trying to draw comfort from this thought. “None of us would, Demamah.” She sent rainbow flecks of scales flying off the fish with her blade. “I wish you could feel the presence of the Most High as I sense Him sometimes. He’s there,
waiting
…”

Demamah shuddered, straightening as if she’d been dashed with cold water. “Oh, I wish you weren’t so stubborn! And complicated.”

Shoshannah shook her head, slicing open the fish. “I’m not complicated. It’s all become very simple for me here in your Great City: Do I love the Most High, yes or no? And my answer has to be yes. I can’t live with no.”

“You won’t live with yes either!” Demamah argued, flashing her an angry look. Then her expression softened into a plea. “Can’t you just do what they want and keep your devotions to yourself?”

Cleaning and rinsing the fish, Shoshannah pondered her answer. “That would be like someone telling my mother, or any other loving wife, ‘Be unfaithful to your beloved husband and keep your love for him a secret.’ She couldn’t do such a thing, and I wouldn’t either. Could you?”

Demamah thrust another fistful of feathers into the basket, her sweet face troubled. They continued their work in silence.

“We cannot escape unless we abandon our Keren,” Shem murmured to Annah as they settled down together
for the night—beneath an open sky so the guardsmen could watch them. “And they’re guarding us too closely; even if Keren weren’t ill, we could easily be caught.”

Annah listened, knowing her husband was correct. She tucked a woolen coverlet around Shem carefully—he was tied again for the night. Then she settled beside him, kissing his lips, whispering, “You’re right. But we should still watch for some way to hide. Surely someone will shelter us—unless we are completely without friends in that Great City.”

“Perhaps.” Shem sounded doubtful. “The Most High alone knows what will happen. I pray His plans include mercy for our rebellious children.”

Looking up at the far-flung, glistening stars, Annah half pretended a defiance of her own. “You pray for those rebellious ones! I’m praying for Zekaryah and Keren and their new infant. And for Shoshannah, Kaleb, and Tiyrac.”

Shem chuckled, his breath warm in her hair. “You do that, beloved, as I will. I think I’m praying for you too—you’re becoming so fierce. You sound like my mother—and that’s not terrible; you just sound like her.”

“I miss her.” Wistfully, Annah added, “I miss your father too. I wonder what he would think, if he were here.”

“He would be praying.”

Annah hushed now, completely exhausted, staring up at the skies, praying and pondering the intentions of the Most High.

Shivering in the morning light, Keren emerged from the river. Her leather tunic dripped heavily, and bits of grass clung to her feet as she followed I’ma-Annah up the
riverbank toward the small leather tent where they would change their garments.

Shem and Zekaryah sat nearby, both of them clean but bound, and watched their captor-guardsmen, who waited impatiently. Flinging I’ma-Annah a teasing look, Shem called, “Hurry, or we will leave without you.”

“No doubt you would!” I’ma-Annah called back.

Keren managed a smile, which faded swiftly. She didn’t feel like joking; they would be in the Great City tonight. Perhaps she would be dead before dawn. At least she would be relatively clean when she died.
My baby
, she thought to her unborn child,
I wish I could see you and hold you first
.

On the mats inside the tent, Keren wiped her feet, then changed into clean undergarments and a fresh leather tunic. As she sat down to work a comb through her tangled hair, I’ma-Annah gave her an appraising glance.

“Child, are you better or worse today?”

“Somewhat better. Not that it matters.”

“Don’t lose hope.” I’ma-Annah knelt beside her, combing her own hair. “Perhaps someone will speak for us or offer us a place to hide.”

Not while we’re prisoners
. But Keren remained silent, fighting a stubborn tangle.

I’ma-Annah continued, “I’m grateful they’ve allowed us to bathe.”

“Sharah or Ra-Anan would insist that we must be clean. Kuwsh wouldn’t; he’d prefer to kill me outright.”

“And what of my Shem?” Annah asked quietly. “Would Kuwsh prefer to kill him ‘outright’ as you say?”

“I pray not. But if he is seeking revenge for Nimr-Rada’s death and thinks of our Father Shem with such contempt, then yes… he might have him killed.”

“How can this be the same Kuwsh-child I cared for as my own?” I’ma-Annah wondered aloud, sounding inconsolable. “And Shem played with Kuwsh and protected him as he did our own sons. I don’t understand why he turned against us.”

“Kuwsh wants his children to rule your children,” Keren explained, yanking at her hair now—though she decided it was hopeless. “He wants to control us all.”

“But does everyone else want him to control them? I think not.” Annah slipped the comb through her dark wet hair so easily that Keren would have envied her if she weren’t so dispirited. Annah paused now, seeming to remember something bitter. “I think Kuwsh’s rebellion is because of his father Khawm’s rebellion. Years ago, Khawm insulted and offended our Noakh horribly. Oh, but that was a terrible time. He—”

“You two hurry!” Erek’s voice cried from outside, interrupting them. “Before we come in and drag you out!”

His threat angered Keren. And if she was angered, then Zekaryah must be furious. They hurried outside and began to dismantle the tent. As she worked, Keren heard the guardsmen talking.

“We can’t let her be seen by anyone,” Abdiy grumbled.

Becay sounded irritated. “We’ll just throw something over her head.”

They’re talking about me
, Keren realized, as she helped I’ma-Annah roll the deerskin covering away from the wooden tent ribs.

I’ma-Annah patted Keren’s hand, giving her a questioning look while tipping her head toward the guardsmen. “They want to hide you from others, Keren-child?”

“It seems so,” Keren agreed, upset. “I’m sure my presence will create chaos in the Great City if I’m seen.”

Shaking her head, I’ma-Annah boldly approached the guardsmen, who all straightened as she spoke. “My sons, I have something she can use to remain hidden; you can’t just throw a piece of leather or wool over—”

Becay swiftly nodded and raised a hand toward her—a silencing motion of agreement. The others retreated, unwilling to argue.

Annah smiled at them kindly, went to one of the packhorses, and unfastened a leather bundle. Returning to Keren, she said, “I knew you would be determined to find Shoshannah, so I thought it would be wise to bring this. I know you’ll take care of it. I’ve mended it over the years.”

Opening the bundle, Annah produced a light, fragile length of netting, scattered with tiny, intricate, naturally decorative knots. Keren didn’t dare touch it.

“Your veil… the one you wore as a girl in the times before these…”

“I know you’ll take care of it,” I’ma-Annah repeated. “Let’s finish packing our gear, then you can put it on.”

“But I can’t.” Keren stared at the veil, scared, humbled. She could just imagine herself shredding the precious, delicate threads that were such a part of her heritage.

“Obey her, child,” Shem commanded, very much the First Father.

Unnerved, Keren bowed her head in mute agreement. Then she glanced at her husband. Zekaryah returned her look, troubled.

“How did you survive beneath this veil for so many years?” Keren asked, peering through the fragile mesh
toward I’ma-Annah, who was guiding her by the elbow. “I feel as if I’m walking through an endless mist.”

“You’ll become used to it,” I’ma-Annah promised, “if you have to wear it for very long.” She almost halted, staring ahead. “Keren-child, is that their tower?”

Focusing through the veil, Keren saw what she had prayed never to see again: a mountain created by man, that formidable brick heap they called a tower. “Yes. Though it’s much higher now.”

“O Living Word,” Shem prayed aloud behind them, almost groaning, “be merciful. How it must offend You.”

Zekaryah made a quiet sound of agreement. Keren longed to look back at him, to take refuge in his arms. To hide from the sight of the Great City.
Most High, please, I don’t want to go there again!

But Shoshannah was there. Keren willed herself to continue.

The path toward the Great City was widening now, and more travelers merged with them, carrying heavy packs of gear, or guiding horses, donkeys, and oxen. All of these travelers were laughing, chattering, and joking loudly, delighted to see the Great City.