He Who Lifts the Skies (28 page)

Nimr-Rada gave her a curt nod. “I see you have already taken down one of your targets—unless Lawkham or Zehker did that for show.” He tipped his head toward the shattered remains of the gourd in the distance, flanked by its still-upright companions.

“No, Great King,” Keren answered clearly enough for her voice to carry. “I hit that one from this very spot.”

“After how many tries?” Nimr-Rada asked.

“Three.”

“Seeing Lawkham’s misery, I thought you would say thirty.” Waving his flail, Nimr-Rada said, “Hit two of the next four and I will be satisfied for now. Begin.”

Keren shut her eyes, breathing out a silent prayer.
O Most High, my enemies, Nimr-Rada, Sharah, and Kuwsh, long to see me fail. Please, don’t let them rejoice
.

Intent upon the remaining gourds, she reached back over her shoulder, slid an arrow out of the leather quiver, fixed it in her bowstring, and relaxed. She could almost hear Lawkham’s frantic, silent instructions. Shoulder down. Elbow up. Sight along the arrow. Ease your fingers.… She released the arrow, her gaze still upon the gourd. The arrow struck the gourd and stayed. Lawkham celebrated by stomping one leather-clad foot down hard.

Nimr-Rada glanced at him, then said, “Once more.”

Keeping her focus on the gourds, her movements smooth, Keren shot another arrow. It sped over a gourd,
barely whisking it. From atop his horse, Kuwsh said, “You would not count that for one of your horsemen, O King. Should she be given more than they are given?”

You will not upset me
, Keren thought, staring at Kuwsh, then at Sharah, who was gloating quietly—her lampblack darkened eyes and ochre-stained lips stark and shocking in her pale face. Lifting an eyebrow at Nimr-Rada, Keren said, “I have two more tries.”

“Proceed,” he said, surveying the remaining gourds.

Her hands were clammy, but she refused to allow Kuwsh and Sharah the pleasure of seeing her wipe her palms. Praying silently, she swept another arrow from her quiver and sighted her target. Bowstring aligned with nose and chin. String fingers curled lightly beneath the jaw, easing fingers slowly … the arrow struck the base of the same gourd. Lawkham stomped the ground hard. Zehker never moved.

“Once more,” Nimr-Rada said, taunting her.

Irritated, Keren took aim and missed.

Nimr-Rada smiled unpleasantly. “Your aim is fair for a beginner, Lady. But a man would be able to outshoot you from a greater distance; you would be dead before your arrow landed at the hooves of his horse.”

Keren stared at him, perplexed. “Why should you say such a thing? It’s not as if you could put me in your army.”

“If I thought your presence would defeat my enemies, Lady, I would indeed put you in my army. But you’d probably kill my own men by mistake.” He sounded amused by the idea, but a vengeful, brooding expression crossed his dark face, as if he were contemplating his enemies.

Who were his enemies? Keren wondered. She remembered as a child hearing I’ma-Annah and I’ma Naomi talk about Nimr-Rada’s endless harassment of the tribes of
Asshur. And now, the tribes of Asshur were building small cities of their own—a show of defiance against Nimr-Rada. Horrified, Keren blurted out, “You’re planning to attack the tribes of Asshur.”

His obsidian-dark eyes flickered. She had surprised him, guessing his plans. Her horror grew. He was going to formally attack the tribe of her cousin Metiyl.
Dear Metiyl
.

Before she could protest, Nimr-Rada quelled her with a smoldering look, which swiftly—bewilderingly—changed to an indulgent smile. In a voice as dark, warm, and liquid as the slime coating the bricks of his would-be tower, Nimr-Rada said, “Come, my sister. We will go to the river to rest and celebrate your little victory.”

Numb, her thoughts still fixed on the impending attack, Keren slung her bow over her shoulder and returned to her patient horse. Zehker and Lawkham were already ahead of her, holding the long, thick reed that served as Keren’s step onto Dobe. Keren mounted the horse without thinking, planting her sandal-shod left foot on the thick reed, then turning to sit lightly on Dobe’s fleece-draped back. Nimr-Rada was watching, apparently admiring her horse-mounting technique more than he had admired her skill with a bow. Keren looked away from him, distressed.

She wanted to cry at him, to beg him to be satisfied with his kingdom as it was. But her pleas would only make him sneer. By everything she had heard and seen, Keren knew that Nimr-Rada’s pride—and Kuwsh’s pride—demanded complete control of all the earth’s tribes, particularly those born of the first fathers Shem and Yepheth, whom they scorned. Even so, she had to try to dissuade him.

While she waited for Zehker to strap the reed pole onto a packhorse, Keren confronted Nimr-Rada again. “Why should you turn against the tribes of Asshur? They’re weak compared to—”

“Do not provoke me, Lady.” His apparent mood of indulgence vanished.

Keren bit down an aggravated response. The others were ready to ride now, but Keren held Dobe back, allowing Kuwsh and Sharah to move ahead of her with Nimr-Rada. She didn’t want to see Nimr-Rada’s face again until her rage had cooled. Perhaps later she would charge into the river and swim until she was exhausted. Anything to distract herself from thoughts of Nimr-Rada attacking the tribes of Asshur.

While Keren was trying—unsuccessfully—to think of a way to warn Metiyl, Nimr-Rada suddenly drew his horse back, waiting for her. His black eyes gleamed maliciously. “As you are mastering the bow, Lady, you must also learn to ride without using your hands to guide your horse or support yourself. And you will be trained to shoot into the hoofprints of your horse as you ride.”

“What? But why?”

“Because from now on, whenever my household resides in the Great City, you will go hunting with me. And you must learn to shoot lions, leopards, men—anything that would stalk you as you ride. Otherwise you will be overtaken and killed.”

She stared, incredulous. “Perhaps I should just throw myself into the river now and avoid these bloody deaths you keep planning for me, O King.”

“You will also be taught to swim,” he said, countering her threat.

“I
know
how to swim,” she retorted.

“I am amazed to hear that, since your mouth is always opening at the wrong times. You should have swallowed water and drowned ages ago.”

Keren scowled, and Nimr-Rada laughed at her, his teeth white and dazzling, making him almost handsome. Reluctantly, Keren thought,
Why can’t you be like other men? It would be easy to admire you if you weren’t so determined to rule everyone else—and to destroy anyone who disagrees with you
.

Nimr-Rada’s laughter drew disapproving looks from Kuwsh and Sharah, who slowed to join them. Immediately, Nimr-Rada told his father why Keren shouldn’t be able to swim. Kuwsh and Nimr-Rada shouted with laughter, then rode on ahead to talk.

Sharah, however, lingered near Keren suspiciously. “Stay away from my husband.”

“You keep him away from me, and I will be completely grateful.” Changing the subject, she said, “Your eyes are amazingly darkened. Meherah taught you well.”

“She’s a clever woman,” Sharah agreed. “Never at a loss for words, the same as her son.”

Speaking carefully, Keren said, “I like Meherah very much; she’s kind and loving. I beg you to cause her no trouble.”

“Do you love that Lawkham?” Sharah asked, watching Keren hard.

Keren gave her look for look. “He’s not what Yithran might have become to me, and you know it. Please, Sharah, you’ve stolen enough from me. Don’t torment my friends and those in my household—they’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then stay away from my husband.”

“Then you come with us when he takes me hunting. I don’t want to be near him, ever. You know it’s true, Sharah. To keep your husband away from me, you must remain
near me. He wants me to learn to hunt. You should accompany us.”

Keren could see Sharah’s dislike of physical exertion warring with her ambition and her desire to keep Nimr-Rada. Keren persisted. “It might please him if you learn all these things.”

“You’ve made your point; I’ll consider what you’ve said.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t,” Sharah answered viciously. “If I can ever be rid of you, I will.”

“And if I can ever escape you, I will,” Keren muttered.

They rode on in bitter silence, following Nimr-Rada and Kuwsh to the river at the site of the would-be tower. There, floating near the riverbank, secured with ropes and pegs, was a long, curved, dark-red wooden barge, surmounted by a large, extravagantly painted black-on-red leather canopy, which shaded an assortment of furs, mats, and cushions.

“Tell me you are unimpressed,” Nimr-Rada said, pulling back and challenging Keren with a forbidding look.

“But I am impressed.” She stared at the barge, amazed. “Who else beneath these blue heavens could command such a vessel to be used for mere pleasure?”

He grunted, and Keren sensed that he was satisfied with her answer. Sharah was fuming—to Keren’s dismay. Nimr-Rada dismounted, commanding his servants and Zehker to follow them along the shoreline with all the horses and supplies.

“You,” he called to Keren’s attendants, and Lawkham and the skulking Erek, “get into the barge.”

Keren would have preferred to leave Erek onshore instead of Zehker but decided not to risk another disagreement with Nimr-Rada. Lawkham and Erek waded out to
the barge, climbed aboard—with some difficulty—and began to help the reluctant Gebuwrah, Alatah, Na’ah, Revakhaw, and Tsinnah inside.

Lawkham was laughing, teasing them into a better mood. Erek, however, mocked the timorous Na’ah without pity until Revakhaw cried, “Weasel! Shut your stupid mouth and help her up. You’re worthless, as always!”

Revakhaw’s voice carried clearly. Nimr-Rada heard her and frowned at Erek. Instantly, Erek hushed. His expression darkened as he helped Na’ah scramble up into the barge. Keren laughed to herself but then sobered, contemplating the best way to board the vessel. She wouldn’t be able to accept help from any of the men. Instead, she must depend upon her attendants, who were now giddy and laughing at the sensation of being afloat.

To prepare, Keren removed her protective leather chest guard and spread it out on the trampled riverbank. She stripped off her sandals and the loathsome gold headpiece and bundled them inside the leather chest guard. Kneeling, she tied the cords of the chest guard together, struggling to make the edges of the leather meet without crushing any of the gold. A shadow fell across her, and Zehker’s voice said, “Here, Lady.”

He was offering her a larger piece of leather. A memory arose then, of Zehker handing her a piece of leather when she was a child—when she had fallen off of Neshar’s horse and bit her tongue bloody. He had leaned toward her in exactly this same way and spoken to her in exactly this tone, saying, “Here.”

You’ve always been ready to help me. I think you care
.… A rush of unsettling thoughts filled her mind. She accepted the leather swiftly, hiding her embarrassment and confusion. “Thank you, Zehker.”

He bowed in silent agreement, then waited as she tied the sandals and headpiece safely within the piece of leather. When she was finished, Zehker lifted the bundle and secured it on a packhorse. Keren did not dare look at him again. Instead, she scolded herself silently for imagining that he might care for her more than any other dutiful servant in her household. Really, she was being ridiculous. And she could not be ridiculous now; somehow she had to climb into that formidable barge.

Taking a resolute breath, Keren waded into the blue-green river, gasping a little at its chill, then enjoying the sparkling, refreshing flow of the current at her toes, ankles, calves, and knees. She longed to douse herself in the water and swim, but she stifled the impulse. Nimr-Rada was lifting Sharah aboard. Sharah was laughing, but Keren knew that she was uneasy. Sharah detested water. Nimr-Rada half tossed her into the barge, clearly enjoying her discomfort. His smile vanished when he saw Keren.

“Where is your head ornament?”

“Where it will be safe,” she answered gently. “I feared I might lose my headpiece as my attendants help me into the barge. Also, my sandals would be ruined by the water, and that would be a terrible waste—they are still in good condition. But see …” She showed him her rings, necklace, and cuffs. “I’m wearing the other pieces.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” His voice lowered intimately. “Tell me—since you surely need my help now—should I withdraw the death order?”

Keren’s heart thudded hard in her chest. Why would he want to lift the death order unless he wanted to take her for himself? To cover her creeping sense of horror, she smiled. “Why should I cause you such trouble, Great King? Truly, I will be able to get into the barge—clumsily,
stupidly, but eventually. Thank you for your concern.”

“Of course.” He drew back, his nostrils flaring, an eyebrow lifted. “Get in.”

Trying to ignore him, Keren waded toward the barge, calling out, “Lawkham, Erek, move away, please. Gebuwrah, Revakhaw, Tsinnah, come help me in.”

“Give us your hands, Lady,” Revakhaw urged, her eyes mischievous.

“Behave,” Keren warned her. “If you drop me, you’ll splash He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies.”

Revakhaw stopped smiling. She and Tsinnah gripped Keren’s wrists and elbows, bracing themselves against the side of the barge as they pulled Keren upward. Keren boosted herself as best she could and managed to hook an arm, then an ankle, over the edge of the barge as Gebuwrah grabbed her waist. They all tumbled together inside, to the bottom of the barge.

Keren laughed triumphantly but stopped when she saw Sharah’s flushed face. Her sister’s eyes glittered angrily, and Keren knew why: Sharah had heard every word Nimr-Rada had said to Keren. And Sharah had given his tone and words the worst possible meaning, which for once was probably accurate.

You can’t openly blame him for wanting me, so you’ll blame me
, Keren thought to Sharah.
Somehow I will convince you that I don’t welcome your husband’s attentions
.