He Who Lifts the Skies (18 page)

With Lawkham and Zehker carrying reed-and-resin torches to light her way, Keren slowly approached Ra-Anan’s courtyard gate. Though Ra-Anan’s dwelling was reasonably close to her own, preparations for this visit had taken longer than she had expected. All of her attendants had insisted upon going with her. And to spare the weary horses, they had come on foot.

The muscular, spear-wielding guard at Ra-Anan’s gate was rude. “Move on!” he bellowed, waving Keren off with his burly free arm—which was garnished with a clattering assortment of animal’s teeth and claws, all large, all dangling from thin strips of leather. Hunting trophies meant to impress onlookers. Or to intimidate them. As Keren stepped out of the guard’s reach, Lawkham strode forward,
surprisingly aggressive.

“You will call her Lady,” he told the guard. “And by the command of the Great King, if you so much as
accidentally
touch a hair on her head, you’ll die at once. Also, you will not flap your hand toward her as if she’s a no one to be ignored. She is Ra-Anan’s own sister. Greet her with respect.”

The guard looked at Keren, flinched when he noticed her eyes, then ducked his head submissively. Almost fawning, he said, “I apologize for offending you, Lady. Please, wait in the courtyard. I’ll tell my master you’re here.”

“Master?” Keren whispered to Lawkham and Zehker, as the guard led them into the courtyard, then scurried into Ra-Anan’s low, sprawling residence. “He calls my brother ‘master’?”

“Dear Lady, after all we’ve told you, even now, you don’t understand the power your brother holds over us,” Lawkham murmured. “Only Nimr-Rada rules him here.”

Zehker nodded in agreement, his wary gaze fixed on the doorway, clearly anticipating the guard’s return. As Zehker and the others kept watch, Keren looked around. The courtyard—its borders beautifully softened with lush green plants and trees—was quiet and deserted. Keren suddenly felt guilty for disturbing Ra-Anan after dark. To her surprise, they were not kept waiting. The guard hurried back, less than eager to give them Ra-Anan’s reply.

“He cannot see you tonight, Lady. He is meeting with certain men who are planning … a building important to He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies.”

They all looked at Keren, awaiting her answer. Dispirited, she looked down at the brick-paved yard. She was so tired. It would be easy to agree that she would return later. But remembering Neshar’s desperation, and the disgrace
of her other brothers, her strength returned. “I’ll be patient,” she told the guard firmly. “The matter is of great importance. If I must, I will sit here all night.”

Hearing this, the guard clutched his spear convulsively and looked back at the residence, obviously alarmed at the prospect of conveying her decision to Ra-Anan.

Keren felt a rush compassion for his sake. Was Ra-Anan such a terrible person that this brawny, rude guard cowered before him? “Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.” She circled around the unhappy guard, giving him a protective boundary, afraid he would try to stop her with his own hands.

He lifted his spear to block her way, but Zehker approached forbiddingly.

Before matters worsened, a man’s cool, commanding voice filled the darkened courtyard. “Perek, return to the gate. I will speak to my sister.”

Ra-Anan
, Keren thought, suddenly nervous, knowing that he had seen and heard everything. Immediately, the guard, Zehker, Lawkham, Revakhaw, and all four of Keren’s other attendants bowed their heads and folded their free hands before themselves respectfully. The guard humbly retreated as Ra-Anan approached. Keren refused to bow but watched Ra-Anan emerge from the shadows.

Tall and thin, he moved in a leisurely, self-important manner, his hooded dark eyes fixed on Keren alone. She did not like him, and this realization unnerved her. He was clad in a long, one-shouldered robe of white cloth, and—to Keren’s astonishment—he was completely smooth shaven. His brown skin and hairless head gleamed in the torchlight. There was no warmth or kindness in his expression or his voice.

“You were commanded to present yourself in the
courts of the Great King tomorrow morning. I did not expect to meet you until then.”

“Forgive me,” Keren answered, not begging but not too proud either. “I’ll be brief. Today, when I entered the Great City, I saw our own brothers, Neshar, Mattan, Bachan, Miyka, and Kana. It’s obvious that they’re suffering some sort of punishment. They are miserable—covered with scrapes and filth. I hope you will ask the Great King to forgive them and to end their punishment.”

“They are being punished for deceit,” Ra-Anan told her. “And when it pleases He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies, then they will be restored to their former places. Until then, they will be common laborers, as they deserve. They must learn to appreciate the Great King’s kindness toward them.”

Ra-Anan’s lack of concern rankled Keren. He sounded so much like Sharah.
I won’t intercede for you
. Trying to remain composed, she said, “If you can’t be troubled with your own brothers, Ra-Anan, then I will speak to the Great King tomorrow. Whatever our brothers have done, they don’t deserve such punishment.”

To her great frustration, her voice quavered, weakening. How could this hateful Ra-Anan possibly be her brother—the firstborn son of her quiet father and fearful mother? And yet, hints of her father’s most stern expressions flickered about Ra-Anan’s mouth. Worse, the way his eyebrows lifted as he spoke mirrored their own mother’s in the most eerie, horrid way. Keren knew that the sight of their oily, smooth-shaven eldest son would appall Meshek and Chaciydah.

As if discerning her thoughts, Ra-Anan lowered his chin, menacing as a snake about to strike. “You, my young sister, will say nothing to our Great King! You have
already provoked him beyond measure. You have yet to bow to him or to thank him for any of his gifts. You scorn his provisions for your comfort, and you question him at every turn. Beyond doubt, you deserved more than one blow from his flail two weeks ago. And tonight you rode into his Great City sobbing like a child, shaming him. He was merciful to you, my sister, and you had best not anger him again. When he is ready, he will restore our brothers to their former places, but not before.”

Keren listened, confounded. How had Ra-Anan learned so much about her actions in the short time since her arrival? Who had been watching her and telling him everything? Just within her field of vision, Zehker shifted subtly, turning the torch in his hand. He never wasted words or motions. She interpreted his gesture as a warning that she should be cautious.

“I apologize, my brother,” she said, turning to leave. “And I regret disturbing you tonight. Perhaps I will see you in the morning.”

“Perhaps?
You will see me more often than you realize,” Ra-Anan spat, his viciousness halting her instantly. “You will be my student for years to come. Therefore, you must learn your place. Beginning now, you will never leave until I dismiss you. You will never come here unless I summon you. You will also learn some manners. In addition, you must dominate your impulsiveness and think before you speak. You will have great significance here. The lives of others will depend upon your actions, which is unfortunate, because you are obviously incapable of self-control.”

Contemptuously, he said, “Now, I command you to return to your residence and contemplate your absurd, inconsiderate behavior. Tomorrow we begin your lessons. Go.”

Instantly, her attendants and Lawkham and Zehker all bowed their heads and stepped back. Ra-Anan glared at her once more, then turned abruptly, going into his house without another word.

Keren’s heart seemed to shrink within her. Ra-Anan deserved the name “Master.” He knew just how to talk to make her feel like a stupid know-nothing girl. Even so, she pretended to be calm, following Lawkham and Zehker out of the courtyard. Her attendants trailed her, absolutely silent. Eyeing them, Keren wondered,
Who is telling Ra-Anan everything that I do and say?

“Can I trust anyone?” she wondered aloud. “What sneaking wretch revealed so many things to Master Ra-Anan?”

“I’ve never said anything to anyone,” Alatah protested, her girlish voice rising as if Keren had accused her personally.

“Nor have I,” said Na’ah, with less assurance than Alatah.

Hearing this, Keren suppressed a smile. Though Na’ah was walking behind her, Keren could almost see her looking around furtively as she spoke. Na’ah was suspicious of everyone and afraid of everything.

“Lady, you know I would never say a word of you to anyone,” Tsinnah told Keren earnestly, hurrying forward to look Keren in the eyes.

“And you should never doubt me,” Revakhaw added, sounding fierce. Then, as if she had been seething for quite a while, she said, “That Master Ra-Anan has the same soul as our pale Great Lady Sharah. He cares for nothing and no one beyond himself.”

“Shh!” Lawkham warned. Barely whispering, he said, “In this Great City you are always watched. Always. Whatever
you say and do will be seen or suspected and reported to Ra-Anan. Or to the Great King.”

“Conceal your souls,” Zehker added quietly. To Keren’s surprise, Zehker actually looked at them, though his lean, shadowed face was enigmatic as ever. Then, without elaborating on his cryptic warning, Zehker changed the subject. “You will see the leopards tomorrow.”

“In other words,” Lawkham teased, “tomorrow morning, when we are summoned to the courts of our Great King, you must not act like leopard’s food.”

Keren’s attendants giggled nervously. But as she contemplated the meeting to come, Keren shivered.
O Most High, give me strength. Even with my new friends, I’m alone. They don’t trust You or think of You as they should. Why?

An image of I’ma-Annah appeared in her mind then. Keren could almost hear her gently telling Keren of the horrors of her past in the previous world.
Karan-child, I was quite alone among my family. If I had even once spoken aloud, I would have been killed. I had to hide my eyes and my soul from theirs. It was terrible. I had no one to trust for many years. Truly, the Most High saved me from madness
.

Remembering this, Keren looked up at the stars glittering in the darkness. Surely the Most High had brought her here for a reason. He would protect her as He had protected I’ma-Annah. But she would have to conceal her soul, as Zehker had advised.

She looked over at Zehker now. He was always so vigilant. And obviously he trusted no one; his soul was concealed.
What has caused you to hide?
she wondered, looking at him. Instantly he glanced at her, seeming impassive, though he was studying her carefully. She looked away, walking on through the dark streets, embarrassed that he had caught her staring.

Kneeling on the dais, just to Nimr-Rada’s left, Ra-Anan willed himself not to lean forward. Keren—her plain, whitened-leather tunic gleaming in the morning light—was entering the hushed, open ceremonial courtyard, followed by her reluctant attendants. Doubtless someone had warned Keren’s attendants that Nimr-Rada would be enjoying the companionship of his cherished gold-and-jewel-collared leopards this morning, for the girls were all clasping their hands tightly before themselves, obviously afraid. Keren held her hands more easily, but she moved slowly.

Almost shivering, Ra-Anan studied Keren’s eyes, so pale that one could not help feeling a kind of spiritual awe. Delightful. Yes, Keren would be most effective in the role he had planned for her. And he was pleased by her remoteness. He had scolded her unfairly last night. Keren possessed a natural dignity that Sharah lacked.

Despite her uniqueness and pretensions of grandeur, Sharah could be perused like a token of impressed clay. She was too forward with the Great King. Too accessible. If she wanted to maintain Nimr-Rada’s interest, she would have to be more mysterious and unobtainable, like Keren.

A sidelong glance at Nimr-Rada and Sharah confirmed Ra-Anan’s opinion. Sharah sat close to Nimr-Rada—her feet tucked away from his lolling, drowsing leopards—while Nimr-Rada stared at Keren, his dark fingers tapping soundlessly against the gold-lashed haft of the flail in his lap. Both Nimr-Rada and Sharah were splendidly garbed in rare white cloth and dazzling gold collars, cuffs, and rings. Their elevated ceremonial seat was covered with light fleeces that showed Nimr-Rada’s
powerfully muscled dark skin to great advantage, while flaunting the marvelous, dizzying patterns of the tamed leopards lounging at his feet. Keren seemed untouched by Nimr-Rada’s magnificence—which Ra-Anan knew would provoke the proud Great King.

Nimr-Rada never shifted his gaze from Keren. She knelt on her designated mat without bowing—which caused Nimr-Rada’s dark nostrils to flare angrily. Ra-Anan longed to laugh like a wild man. And to praise Keren aloud for her show of tranquil defiance. Nimr-Rada, the Great King, Mighty Hunter, He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies, was becoming ensnared in a trap of his own making. No doubt he longed to snatch Keren off her mat and beat her into reverence. Instead, he clenched his flail hard and waved it toward a timid group of tradesmen who were waiting, huddled against the left inner wall of the courtyard.