Word Fulfilled, The (34 page)

“Oh! Yes. I’m . . . excuse me.” Red-faced, he turned toward the wall while Hannah disrobed. After a moment, Hulalitu tapped Jonah’s shoulder that it was proper for him to turn around.

He turned just as Hannah gathered her hair from the neck of the tunic.

The sheltered prophet’s breath caught short at the transformation in his new companion. Hannah paused in the flickering torchlight, and a self-conscious look overtook her face. She averted her eyes from Jonah’s. The tunic’s flimsy material clung to a mature, well-proportioned figure, and did nothing to disguise its wearer’s curves. Shoulder-length, silver-streaked hair flowed with a graceful softness onto her shoulders, themselves partially bared by the loose neckline of the enticing
naditu
garb. Jonah swallowed. He began to wonder who this woman was and where Hannah might have gone. The shapeless garment she had worn up to this point would not have sparked even the most visceral of instincts in the worst of men. But now . . .

Oh, my.

A guttural cough broke his stare, and he drew back, his face scarlet under Hulalitu’s glare. Hannah cleared her throat, her face its own shade of red, but her lips unable to resist a slight smile.

Hulalitu retrieved her torch and motioned for Jonah to pick up the pouch and garment bundle. “It’s time. Follow me. You can’t be seen coming from this chamber. The way is dark and narrow, so stay close to me.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow at Hannah, who translated the
naditu’s
instructions.

The priestess led them around the dais. She slipped the torch into a holder on the back wall and ducked behind the platform. Halfway along the wall, she dropped to her knees and pressed her fingers against the wall. An opening appeared, and she disappeared through it.

Her followers shared a quick look, then followed Hulalitu’s example. Hannah went first and Jonah followed, consciously keeping his gaze elevated. Once through the portal, he pushed to his feet and found himself in a dark tunnel. He turned to the left toward the scuffle of feet and struggled with his bundle as they sidled along the narrow passageway. After several paces, Hulalitu stopped. They heard a scrape, and a dim light glimmered through another low portal in the wall. The priestess’s sturdy figure filled the space and then disappeared.

Hannah and Jonah emerged from the passageway and stepped around a heavy tapestry into a small chamber. The room was empty but for a bed mat and a small cup filled with what appeared to be wine. Hulalitu had already crossed the floor and was by the door. Jonah adjusted his load and followed.

The
naditu
turned toward them. “Listen carefully. I will go ahead of you. Stay close enough so you can see me, but not so close that others will suspect we’re together. Jonah should put his hood over his head.”

Hannah turned and relayed her words in Hebrew. Jonah complied.

Hulalitu added, “Now, take his hand in yours.”

The false
naditu’s
cheeks flushed. She hesitated.

The priestess frowned. “Quickly. And don’t blush. That
never
happens here.”

Hannah nodded and turned to meet Jonah’s puzzled look. She smiled, then held out her hand. He looked at it for a moment, then extended his arm. The soft warmth of Hannah’s hand drew cold sweat to his. His own blush was hidden beneath the hood.

Hulalitu nodded her satisfaction. “Now, act natural.”

Hannah raised an eyebrow.

The priestess tried to suppress a smile. “Well, as much as you can.”

With that, Hulalitu stepped out and strode with purpose down the corridor.

Hannah and Jonah followed Hulalitu at a safe distance. They picked up their pace when she disappeared around a corner at the end of the hall. When they reached the corner, they nearly collided with a young girl in a white tunic leading an older man down the passageway. Hannah stepped aside and drew Jonah out of the way. She hesitated, feeling a fresh wave of heat rise to her forehead as the girl guided the man into the first doorway to the left and slid a cloth across the opening.
Was this what it was like for Ianna? My Ianna?

A nudge from Jonah broke her thoughts, and she looked down the corridor. Hulalitu was no longer in sight. She stepped off at a quickened gait, her hand still clasped in Jonah’s. At the end of the hallway, they found a large antechamber where women in tunics of various colors milled about. Hannah stopped. Her gaze darted around the room in search of Hulalitu’s thickset figure. A wave of fear surged up her spine. Her throat constricted at the thought of becoming lost in the temple. She calmed when she spotted the
naditu
by a large door on the left wall. The priestess conversed with two other women. She ignored the couple paused at the entrance of the corridor.

Hannah knew they would attract attention if they stood there for too long. She decided the large door must lead outside, so she tugged on Jonah’s hand and stepped off with assumed confidence.

“Stop!”

Hannah froze. Jonah bumped into her from behind.

A tall woman dressed in a blue tunic with gold trim bore down on them from across the room, her eyes narrowed at the counterfeit priestess. She blocked their path. “What are you doing?”

Forty

Nineveh, the Artisan’s Quarter

Seventeenth Day of Du’ûzu, the Second Hour

here has to be something we can do.” Rizpah dabbed at her red eyes.

Hiram shook his head. “We’ve been through this. There’s nothing.”

Jamin slumped in the corner of the room. He hadn’t left the house since returning home the evening before. His mind still reeled from the impossibility of the royal pronouncement. Hours ago he stopped asking himself why, of all the people in Assyria, they chose him. How did they even know he existed, and what had he done to deserve this? The questions were as moot as they were unanswerable. It was evident that they knew who he was, that they did choose him, and that he must have done something.

The thought weighing most heavily on him was that of his parents in Aššûr. Would they find out? Could he send word? If he tried to leave the city, he would endanger not only himself, but also his aunt and uncle. The royal official had been clear on that point.

He leaned his head back and sighed. The installation ceremony was in two days. He had no idea how to prepare for it; indeed, there was nothing he could do to prepare. All he could do was wait. Just wait.

Lll

“I asked you what you’re doing.” The senior
naditu
glowered at Hannah.

Hannah stammered, but nothing came out.

“I sent her, Shalla.” Hulalitu’s husky voice arced over the priestess’s shoulder.

Shalla spun around. “You? What have you to do with this, Hulalitu?”

The
naditu
met Shalla’s glare. “I heard of a disturbance in the Hall of the Ishtaritu. I sent Hann—Hani to investigate. This man—” she gestured toward Jonah—“became violent. He needed to be removed.”

Shalla glanced at the stooped figure behind the flustered priestess. “Him?” She turned on Hulalitu. “He became violent?”

Hulalitu didn’t flinch. “Yes. Hani was able to calm him. It’s not the first time this . . . intruder has entered the Hall of the Ishtaritu.” She dropped her voice. “He has a problem in the head.”

Shalla raised her eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter.” She pointed at Hani. “You know the
naditu
do not interfere with the
ishtaritu
ritual. Mother Ishtar will protect her devotees.”

“In this case—”

“And who is this ‘Hani’?” Shalla scrutinized Hannah. “I have never heard such a name among the
naditu
.
”

A sharp voice jerked Shalla’s head around.

“She is here at my behest.” Ianna stepped to Hulalitu’s side. She blazed her fiercest look at the senior
naditu
.

Hulalitu and Shalla stepped back and bowed their heads in the presence of the High Priestess. Hannah took their example and did likewise.

Shalla’s face stayed down well short of the amount of time custom prescribed. She jerked her head back up, the fire in her eyes now directed at Ianna, her perfunctory courtesy coated with a heavy frost. “Greetings, High Priestess. How good of you to grace us with—”

“Thank you, Shalla.” Ianna’s icy voice matched the senior
naditu’s
. “What seems to be the problem?”

“High Priestess, I’m sure you are aware of the rules that govern the
ishtaritu
rite.” She barely covered her sneer with a lowered head. “Despite the unusual circumstances that surrounded your own.”

Ianna ignored the jab. “Of course, Shalla, and I am most grateful at your diligence to remind us of the most obvious of temple protocol.” She took the moment Shalla’s head was bowed to signal Hulalitu with a jerk of her head. She glanced at Hannah, then at the door.

Hulalitu sidestepped to her right and tried to make eye contact with Ianna’s mother.

Shalla lifted her eyes. “Thank you, High Priestess, for understanding how important it is for
someone
to maintain discipline in the temple.”

Hannah caught Hulalitu’s eye. The priestess glanced at the door and tipped her head. Hannah’s eyes widened. She squeezed Jonah’s hand to alert him.

Ianna shifted to her left. The senior
naditu
adjusted her stance to face the
Entu
, which put her back to the temple entrance. Hulalitu jerked her head, and Hannah pulled Jonah toward the door.

Ianna’s sarcasm sliced the air. “And, of course,
you
are just the person to do that.”

No one in the quieted crowd of priestesses noticed Hannah and Jonah slip out. All eyes were glued on the confrontation between the senior
naditu
and the High Priestess. Hannah chanced a glance over her shoulder when they reached the outer portico and caught a smile on Hulalitu’s face just before the door closed. She wondered how she would ever be able to repay the priestess for all she had done, and for the peril she now faced for it.

The faux priestess gripped Jonah’s hand while she scanned the porch for her bearings. She had always avoided the temple square, which now left her uncertain how best to escape it. A squeeze from Jonah’s fingers pulled her attention. He tipped his head to the right. She took his cue and moved along the porch. They passed another
ishtaritu,
leading her partner toward the door. Hannah and Jonah descended the steps and rounded the northern corner of the building.

Jonah’s muffled whisper came from under his hood. “I think we cut straight across the square. That should put us in the upper residential quarter.”

She nodded and set off across the plaza, past the fountain and into the shadows of another building. Jonah pulled back on her hand and she stopped. He slipped his hand from hers and in the darkness she heard him rummage through his bundle. She felt him press a bundle of cloth against her arm, and recognized the coarse material as that of her own robe. Only then she realized she was still clad in only the tunic, which would be sure to draw attention beyond the temple square.

Hannah smiled to herself as she drew her robe over her head. Her cheeks reddened at the realization that she had enjoyed the sensual freedom the sheer tunic lent her. The weight of her old garment almost stifled her now.

“I thought it best. You know . . .” Jonah’s tentative voice was clearer. She realized he must have pulled back his hood.

Hannah’s smile broadened at the awkwardness in his tone. Her forehead prickled with an unexpected giddiness as she flashed back to his expression when he first saw her body give the delicate material its shape. Hannah couldn’t remember the last time Mordecai had appreciated her with his eyes. She felt herself swept up in an urge that surprised her, but that she felt no desire to resist.

There, in the darkness, she found Jonah’s hand and took a step closer to him. She leaned forward and brushed his cheek with her lips.

“Thank you.”

The kiss paralyzed Jonah. He didn’t flinch, which shocked him. He felt no shame, no condemnation at what he would normally have considered a brazen gesture. That also shocked him.

Hannah’s soft breath against his face and gentle whisper in his ear flushed his head not with the heat of indignation, as he would’ve expected, or even embarrassment. This was an entirely new feeling, a sensation different than any he had experienced before. It also aroused a response he’d never felt before, but one that he was powerless to restrain.

Jonah released her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out to her. When his fingers brushed her cheek, they lingered for a moment. He gently traced her jaw to her chin with his fingertips.

He didn’t recognize his own throaty voice. “You’re welcome.”

Hannah drew back after the kiss. It felt so natural to her, but there was no response from Jonah. When he released her hand, she stiffened, suddenly embarrassed she had overstepped. What was she thinking? Maybe he was married. She had never acted so brashly toward a man. What kind of woman would he think she—

The tender stroke of his fingertips across her cheek startled her. As his unseen hand traced her cheek line, tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to remember when she had felt so gentle a touch from a man.

His husky words stopped her breath. As his hand paused at her chin, she brought her own up and cupped his fingers against her face.

Time stood as still, as did they. Neither knew how long they lingered in each other’s arms; neither cared. The embrace was completely new to Jonah, vaguely reminiscent to Hannah. The raw peril of what they’d just been through faded for them both. Across the plaza, the flurry of activity at Ishtar’s temple ebbed as the crowd of men dissipated. Soon the night was quiet.

“We should be going.”

“Yes.”

They remained.