He Who Lifts the Skies (33 page)

“Then he will kill you and your entire household,” Keren told her. “You must be calm.…”

“Don’t you tell me what to do! You’re the reason I’m in
this situation.”

“And you know that the opposite is true,” Keren answered, watching Zehker from the corner of her eye. He was tensed, staring at Sharah as if she were a vulture he intended to ward off if she got too close to Keren. In addition, the women of Sharah’s household were smirking, obviously delighted by her mortification. None of them seemed sympathetic or loyal to Sharah. Now, as always, Sharah was heedless of everyone but herself; she continued to rave and claw at the air.

“I’ve done everything for him—and this is how I’m repaid! I’ve taken all of Ra-Anan’s advice, attended his stupid lessons, played loving mother to his stupid citizens, given in to all his idiotic whims. As for having a child, my husband has never expressed an interest in being a father, so how can he hold that lack against me? Now he takes this Revakhaw-creature for his own. I could kill her!”

“If you kill her, my sister, then I’ll repay you and no one will stop me; I give you my word! Revakhaw is half dead already.” As she spoke of Revakhaw, Keren could feel the tears burning in her eyes. “She doesn’t deserve your hatred.”

Sharah lifted her chin, scornful. “You always were a fool for others. I see you’ve earned a wound—probably for her sake.”

Keren sniffed back her tears, angry with herself for appearing weak in front of Sharah. “He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies inflicted this wound on me while making me swear never to plot against his life. I will also submit to his authority and reveal any other plots against him.”

“You would!” Sharah snapped. “Well, if my
dear
husband hears anything that makes him believe I’ve plotted against him, then I’ll be sure your life is endangered with
my own. I’ll tell him that you’re desperate to save your precious Revakhaw. I’ll—”

“Then he will slit our throats, cut out our hearts, and pour our blood down the steps of his tower,” Keren interrupted, raising her voice to force Sharah to listen. “He gave me his word that’s how he’d kill us. And our households will follow us in death.”

Everyone in the courtyard gasped or cringed or went ashen. Keren half regretted frightening them.

Glancing around suspiciously, Sharah said loudly, “Forgive me. I’m overcome with despair that my husband has taken another wife. Yet I love him; he is more than the Sun to me.” Leaning toward Keren, her pale eyes full of malice, Sharah whispered, “Let his stupid spies tell him
that!
How I wish he’d been killed while driving the tribes of Asshur from his lands!”

Keren pressed a hand to her throbbing forehead. Nimr-Rada’s brutal conquest of the tribes of Asshur was still a source of pain to her. Nimr-Rada had celebrated his victory by declaring that he could see a sign in the stars—a man riding an eagle as if it were a horse. The eagle was Father Asshur’s favored creature, his personal symbol. “Let’s not speak of the tribes of Asshur,” she begged softly, eager to be done with her errand. “I was also supposed to tell you … He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies has declared that you are bound by these oaths—he also made me swear that I will be protectoress of his Tower of Shemesh.”

“Protectoress of Shemesh?” Sharah looked at her, darkly amused, ignoring the fact that she too was bound by Keren’s vows. “Oh, but what will the Most High do without you, His most faithful follower? Or do you no longer believe that foolishness? Never mind. I don’t want you preaching at me like the Father of my Fathers.”

“I won’t,” Keren sighed. “I’ve told you everything I was commanded to tell you, so I’ll depart. Enjoy your day, my sister.”

“You should bow to me,” Sharah pointed out as Keren turned to leave.

Keren inclined her head politely, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. “No, my own sister, I should not. And don’t challenge me; you won’t win.”

They stared at one another. Sharah straightened, suddenly furious. “Get out!”

Keren left her sister’s courtyard, relieved to be away from her. Now she could wait for an almost-certain summons from Ra-Anan.

Ra-Anan faced Keren, his thin mouth drawn into a disdainful curl. “Again, you have done what you should not do.”

As you have done
, Keren answered silently. Aloud, she said, “Tell me, O wise one, what I should do.”

His eyes flashed, and Keren looked away, regretting her sarcasm. She wasn’t helping herself or Revakhaw by insulting Ra-Anan, though he had apparently planned the whole situation. A breeze gusted into the courtyard then, making a tiny nearby whirlwind of dry, rustling, dead leaves. Keren felt as if she were those leaves, useless and caught in a storm she had no power to resist. Exhausted, she said, “Forgive me.”

“You berated my wife while she was your guest.”

“I will ask Zeva’ah’s forgiveness,” Keren agreed, toneless. “I know she couldn’t have warned me. She’s loyal to you above all.”

“And who claims
your
loyalty?” Ra-Anan demanded, staring at her hard. “Your Most High?”

Unable to speak, Keren simply looked at her brother. How could Ra-Anan live without the Most High? How could she herself live without honor, righteousness, or love? All these things were being stolen from her. Now, would Nimr-Rada and Ra-Anan officially force her to denounce the Most High?

Ra-Anan knelt, leaning toward her, his hooded eyes fierce. “Give Him up! What has He done for you? Nothing! If you resist, then those you love will die one by one, victims of your devotion to those old storytellers.”

Aching, Keren thought of Noakh, I’ma-Naomi, Shem, and I’ma-Annah. Then she thought of Revakhaw. The ache intensified.
O Most High, help me. How can I save her without turning against You? That would be like death to me
.

Unexpectedly, she remembered her brother Neshar’s words when they had parted.
Learn to use your weapons. Trust no one. Judge everything coldly
. Neshar would be appalled to know what had happened to Revakhaw. What would Neshar do in this situation, if he loved the Most High? He would trust no one and learn everything he could, then try to find a way to turn his knowledge against Nimr-Rada and Ra-Anan. That was apparently what Keren would have to do. Then, surely, the Most High would intercede for her at His appropriate time. Until then, Keren would have to be like Neshar.

Quietly, she said, “I will do whatever I must do to help Revakhaw—short of killing anyone else. Now, my own brother, what does He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies intend when he commands me to become his protectoress of Shemesh?”

“He intends you to become his most honored servant.”

I don’t want to become his most honored servant
.

Ra-Anan—how he loved to hear himself talk—continued in his reasonable teaching voice. “All your lessons have been a prelude to everything you must learn between now and the highest day of our benevolent Sun. Every tribal leader under the command of He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies will be amazed by your presence.” Whispering eagerly now, he said, “You will hold great power, which will strengthen our grip on this kingdom—if you are willing to truly listen and learn, my sister.”

Pompous serpent
, she thought.
How can you be my own brother?
Keeping her voice tranquil, her expression accepting and attentive, she said, “I’m listening.”

The rains had ended temporarily, just before the midday meal, and Nimr-Rada sent word that Keren was to present herself at his gates immediately, prepared to hunt. A general moan arose from her household, but Keren lifted her hands to silence everyone. “Not a word of complaint! He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies is waiting. Hurry as if your lives depend on it.”

She joined them in the rush to collect her gear, to inspect her attire and to throw on a half-sleeved, open-fronted outer robe and bind it together with a wide linen sash. She paused to help Na’ah and Gebuwrah bank their cooking fire and pile all their pots of food into large baskets to be strapped onto fleece-draped packhorses.

Dobe was now one of these packhorses, scorned by Nimr-Rada. Keren’s new horse was a muscular brute that endured her as badly as she endured him. But he was a gift from Nimr-Rada and had to be accepted.

As Keren went toward Shaw-Kak, she patted her faithful Dobe to let him know she was near. She was thankful, as always, that Nimr-Rada had not sent Dobe to the stew pots—like the ones Dobe now carried so calmly.
I could take lessons in patience from you
, Keren told Dobe in unspoken affection.

Zehker and Qaydawr were waiting, holding the thick reed that served as her step-up to Shaw-Kak’s fleece-draped back. “Thank you,” Keren murmured.

Qaydawr gave Keren an intense, admiring smile that made her skin crawl. Zehker handed Keren her quiver of arrows, then her bow. She accepted her weapons, pretending to be indifferent, but longing to touch Zehker’s hardened hands and coax a genuine smile onto his imposing features. She suspected he had dimples, but until he laughed, or revealed some true expression, she could prove nothing.

Shaw-Kak shifted beneath her abruptly, saving her from the temptation of staring at Zehker. Qaydawr handed Keren her reins, leaning too close for comfort. Incredulous, she drew back.

“Do you want to die, Qaydawr? Please, don’t lean so near me.”

“Are you worried, Lady?” he asked softly, looking up at her from beneath eyelashes that any woman would envy.

“Of course; please, be careful.”

He smiled at her caressingly; Keren almost rolled her eyes. He had taken her warning as an expression of affection.
Wonderful
, she thought darkly.
He’s deluded
. She had to find some way to be rid of him.

Keren rode through her courtyard gate, reining in the restless Shaw-Kak long enough to allow her guards and attendants to mount their horses and take their places in
front of her and behind her. All the way to Nimr-Rada’s wall-enclosed residence, Shaw-Kak skittered, bounded, pranced, and snorted his impatience. Exasperated, Keren wound the reins tight in one fist and gave Shaw-Kak a resounding whack on the neck with the feathered end of one of her arrows. “No! And don’t you put your ears back at me—no tantrums!”

To her disgust Shaw-Kak stopped altogether. She had to kick him viciously to make him proceed. By the time she rode up to Nimr-Rada’s gate, she was fuming. Her headgear was askew, and she was ready to eat Shaw-Kak for her evening meal.

Nimr-Rada was already mounted and waiting just inside his gate. He looked irritated.

Keren bowed her head formally, then glared, pointing at Shaw-Kak. “I’m ready to stew this one, O King!”

Nimr-Rada laughed at her, his irritation vanishing like a mist. “He is good for you, Lady. He challenges you.”

“As you told him to, I’m sure,” Keren grumbled, turning Shaw-Kak to ride just to Nimr-Rada’s left.

Nimr-Rada’s attendants were gathering now, and Keren had to hide her dismay as Kuwsh rode up, eyeing her coldly. But then her dismay turned to soaring hope. For the first time in many weeks, she saw Revakhaw ride out of Nimr-Rada’s gate and take her old accustomed place among Keren’s attendants. Nimr-Rada prodded Keren with his flail, demanding her attention.

“Do not think that her presence here changes anything, Lady,” he warned.

“As you say, O King,” Keren reassured him hastily. “I’m just glad to see her. Please,
please
, may I visit with her as we ride?”

“That was my intention,” he answered, his voice unusually low.

“Thank you, Great King.”

He grunted and waved her off with his flail, nodding to Kuwsh, who waited at his right. Keren pulled Shaw-Kak back to ride with Revakhaw. But her joy vanished when Revakhaw leaned toward Keren and whispered sadly, “I am with child.”

As Keren gasped, Revakhaw lamented beneath her breath, “I long to die! What am I, Lady? Every day he taunts me, saying that I am not his wife and he will kill me if I defy him. But then he declares that I am his, and my child is his, yet I’m nothing to him. I don’t know what to think.…”

Furiously protective, Keren hissed, “Tell no one I said this: As I live, Revakhaw, before the Most High, you are Nimr-Rada’s true wife. Sharah was married to another man, whom she abandoned for Nimr-Rada—their marriage is a mockery!” For safety’s sake, Keren said nothing more. But she glared at Nimr-Rada’s leopard-skin draped back.
Animal!