Heavens Before (13 page)

Will you kill your wife for what she’s done? I believe you will. It will be disgusting to watch you stand before the entire settlement and demand justice, when you refuse to submit yourself to the same authority
.

Grimly, Annah passed the edges of Yerakh’s fields. Here trees grew freely, as did flowers, shrubs, vines, and thorns. Annah searched for some sign of Iltani. Then, farther south, she saw a flickering light—an evening fire glowing in an unkempt lodge. Annah shivered, hugging her veil and her bag. Never had she dreamed she would seek this place.

“The Nachash will burn you to death,” Chathath had told her once, before their father’s murder. He had voiced her worst dream: The Nachash and the whisperers would steal her during the night. They would take her to their lodge and pass her, still living, through the fire until there was nothing left of her but bones and ashes.

Chathath had leaned close to her, hissing, “Then they will lick up your dust and the powder of your bones! After all, they are human serpents; they love the ashes of a dead child like you!”

I am no longer a child
, Annah reminded herself now, suppressing her fears.
I’ll find out what Iltani has done. And if I have to confront her before the entire settlement, using my own voice, then so be it. If I find her in the lodge of the Nachash, with the body of the child, then I will tell everyone that Iltani has committed two murders
.

Annah circled the lodge of the Nachash, looking for an observation point. When she saw glimmers of firelight through the roughly woven grasses of the west wall, she summoned all her courage and crept up next to the lodge.

Kneeling softly, she peered through a gap in the woven wall. Iltani was there, seated before a crackling, snapping fire. She had set the stillborn’s tiny body off to one side, as if it were a bundle of refuse. Annah shut her eyes briefly, steadying herself against this new indignity.

Seated in a half-circle before the fire, the Nachash and the whisperers resembled dried caricatures of humans, whose individual characteristics had been sucked away by some vile, wasting blight. Yet they radiated a presence both compelling and dark. The strongest source of this dark presence was the Nachash herself. Encased in her circular, painted leather cloak, she exuded an arrogance that demanded submission.

And Iltani humbly offered it. Like a child expecting praise, she explained, “I used the seeds and leaves of death plants; the woman died bearing a child. You told me ‘like for like.’ Is this not your price?”

The Nachash sighed, low and harsh in her throat. “We will see what you have brought to our fire.” From the depths of her cloak, the Nachash extended two withered arms, her skeletal fingers reaching over the fire. Iltani winced, forced to stretch her own arms over the flames to pass the small bundle to the Nachash.

The Nachash opened the bundle. “One heartbeat for
another,” she muttered, a chuckling noise rasping in her throat.

Nauseated, Annah pressed a hand to her mouth.

Iltani sat down, obviously relieved. “Then you’re pleased? You’ll give me the remedies I need?”

The Nachash remained silent, swaying, fixated on Annah’s stillborn brother. To Annah, this aged woman, leering at the body of a stillborn child, represented every horror clad in human flesh.
O Nachash
, Annah thought fiercely,
I hate you! You’ve demanded the lives of my mother and my brother. If I live a thousand years, I’ll never forget what you have done
.

As if feeling Annah’s rage, the Nachash turned toward the wall through which Annah stared, and flicked her eyelids open. Where there should have been the color of brown for her eyes, the Nachash showed only whites. Yet she recognized Annah. Enraged now, the Nachash screamed, deep and hoarse. “You, watcher in the dark! You, hating us! You! Will you demand justice? Will you accuse us before the Most High?”

The Most High? The Most High is the enemy of the Nachash? Does He exist after all?
Confounded, Annah stared back through the tiny break in the wall, unable to move.

Now Iltani looked in her direction, suspicion dawning in her smooth, full face. “We’re being watched?” she cried, horrified. “No. No!” She snatched the knife of stone from the earthen floor, gripping it in her fist.

The sight of it jolted Annah to her senses. Iltani was going to kill her. And this time even Yerakh couldn’t protect her. Clutching her veil and her bag, Annah scrambled to her feet and ran toward the settlement. As she fled through the fields, she could hear Iltani behind her, running fast and hard.

Terrified, her feet shredded by thorns as she ran, Annah cried out, the words breaking from her throat in the faintest of voices, “Most High, help me!”

Hearing Iltani’s snarls of rage mingled with gasps for air, Annah sped on through the darkness. Then she tripped. The earth seemed to rush up to meet her, knocking the breath from her body.
I’m going to die now. Iltani’s right behind me
. Feeling smothered, almost suffocating with fear, Annah waited, bracing for a blow. But Iltani ran past her toward the settlement.

Annah lay perfectly still, her face pressed into the earth, unable to believe she had escaped. Why hadn’t Iltani sensed her presence? Why weren’t the whisperers following her?

Gradually, the smothering sensation faded. Annah waited, listening for the Nachash and the whisperers. She heard nothing. Only the croaking of frogs and the rasping of bugs. And night birds … singing joyously. Trembling, she sat up in the darkness and stared at the heavens, trying to gather her thoughts.
I’m alive
, she told herself, amazed.
I should be dead, but I’m alive
. The moon and the stars had never looked so beautiful. And she was comforted by an all-encompassing presence, the very opposite of the presence of the Nachash.
You’re here
, she thought to the Most High.
I can sense You; it’s as if You’re touching me. But why should You notice me, a human-female-nothing?

As she was trying to understand this, a distant clamor arose from the settlement, screams of rage and terror. Annah jumped up, panic-stricken, clutching her bag and veil.
Most High, help me. Where can I go?
Annah ran through the fields into the night.

Shifting on a branch in the Tree of Havah, Annah scanned the heavens, waiting for the first signs of dawn. From time to time she sensed the presence of others—men and women—and heard them calling to each other in the darkness.
Are they looking for me?
she wondered, trying to peer through the rising mist of the night. Suddenly sensing someone at the base of the tree, Annah climbed upward, groping for branch after branch, her heart thudding.
O Most High, save me from being discovered by this person
.

The person lingered briefly at the base of the tree, then hurried toward the river. Voices rose from that same direction, first in alarm, then in triumph. A woman screamed.

Iltani
, Annah thought. Her eyes widened as Iltani’s screams continued, mingled now with the curses and laughter of others, both men and women. The voices were moving, changing directions in the darkness. Unable to see through the deepening mists, Annah turned her head, following the sounds of the voices. Iltani’s captors were apparently dragging her back to the settlement.

Sickened, Annah eased herself into one of the lower branches of the ancient tree.
Should I go back to the settlement and speak to the others, and tell them what Iltani and the Nachash have done? No, they’d kill me—Yerakh would demand my death. O Most High, stay with me. I’m so afraid
.

Annah leaned into a massive branch, clinging to it while she prayed. The presence of the Most High surrounded her, enfolding her. Reassured, she dozed. She was awakened by the sensation of her woven-grass bag sliding from her fingertips. Snatching it into her arms, Annah straightened, staring at the sky. The first ruddy
hints of dawn glowed in the east.

I should go back to the settlement
, she told herself. But she waited until the sunlight permeated the early mist, ending her night of fear. The light calmed her, strengthened her.
O Most High … thank You for saving me, and for noticing me—a nothing-creature. Why should You care that I exist? Why should You stay with me when I have nothing to offer You but words that I cannot speak? But how glad I am for Your presence; I’ll remember forever that You were with me, protecting me when I was so afraid
.

She descended from the tree, wobbling a little as she turned toward the settlement. Birdsong pierced the morning mist from every direction. It was as if the terrors of the night had all been a dream; she would go back to her brother’s lodge and find her mother, still pregnant and sound asleep.

No, I’ma’s death, the hatred of the Nachash, and Iltani’s screams when she was caught last night … all those things happened. Now I must face them
. Slowly Annah pulled her veil over her head and entered the mist-shrouded settlement.

Everyone’s still asleep
, she thought. As she approached Yerakh’s lodge, she noticed a woman curled up on the hard, trampled path near the doorway. Wondering, Annah crept around the prone figure, then stiffened, almost crying aloud. It was Iltani, eyes half-opened in a death stare, lying in a pool of her own blood. Someone had slashed her throat with the knife of stone.

Pressing one trembling hand to her mouth, Annah backed away from Iltani’s body. There was so much blood. As she retreated, she just missed stepping into another patch of bloodstained earth near the front entry of the lodge. She stared at it, bewildered. Had they killed Iltani at the door, then flung her body out, disgraced and unattended? Annah shuddered, revolted by the thought.

Inside the lodge, Annah caught her breath and looked around. The wives of Naham were sharing pallets with Haburah and Ayalah, to the right of the hearth—on the same side of the lodge as the snoring Gammad. It was as if her sisters could not endure being on the same side of the lodge as their dead mother.

Bracing herself to see her mother’s body, Annah turned to the opposite wall. She was surprised to see Chathath stretched out on a pallet next to Parah. Wondering, Annah approached them, staring at the two of them lying side by side.

I would never have believed Chathath was so devoted to I’ma
. As she gazed at them, Annah realized that Chathath’s face was bluish and unnaturally still. Refusing to comprehend the truth, Annah cautiously touched her brother’s hand. It was cold and bound in place by cords at his wrists—prepared for burial.

Annah sat down hard on the earthen floor, thoroughly dazed.
How can Chathath be dead?
She half-expected him to wake up, mocking her, laughing over Iltani’s death. She could still hear him quarreling with Iltani last night as they sat before the evening fire, their voices resounding with hatred.

Monster!

Serpent-Lover!

Shut up!

When you do, elder sister
.

Annah winced, pained by Chathath’s prophecy of his own death.
Iltani thought it was you spying on her last night
, Annah thought, gazing at Chathath’s cold, still face.
It’s my fault; you would not be dead if I hadn’t followed her. When I fell and she didn’t sense me, she came here—with that knife of stone—and killed you while you stood in the doorway
.

Stricken, Annah pulled away from the bodies of her brother and her mother. She had to get out of the lodge, away from the frightful atmosphere of death. Unable to endure stepping over Chathath’s blood in the front entry, unwilling to see Iltani’s sightless staring corpse again, she went out the back door of the lodge.

I’ll go to the river
, she told herself. But as she made her way through the afal orchard, she remembered her mother standing beneath these fragrant trees, embracing the faithless Tseb-iy.

If you had truly loved my mother, Tseb-iy, she would be alive today
. The thought choked Annah, causing bile to rise up into her throat. She dropped to her knees, retching violently. When she could move again, she staggered through the fields, desolate, numbed beyond all feeling. The creatures of the fields skittered away from her approaching feet, and the birds flew before her in silence.