Crown in the Stars (14 page)

But her mother had mentioned the leopards so prized by the Great-King Nimr-Rada. “I would like to see them,” Shoshannah murmured.

“You’ve heard about my leopards?”

“I was told your father hunted with them.”

“What else have you been told, Cousin?” he asked, leaning closer. “You know more than you’ve already said, don’t you?”

“About our lifespans?”

“About my mother,” Adoniyram whispered, his voice beguiling.

Unsettled, Shoshannah asked, “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Your mother had two husbands. She abandoned her infant son, your brother
… It would be so easy to tell him. And so dangerous. Shoshannah looked away. “You must speak to Master Ra-Anan instead. Or talk with your mother.”

“I want to hear the truth from you.”

“There’s nothing I can tell you.”

“I understand your fear.” An edge suddenly cut beneath his soft words. “But you know I’ll persist. Eventually you
will
tell me.” He sat up now, looking amiable, as if they had just ended a friendly, unimportant conversation. Ra-Anan was heading toward them, goading his sand-pale horse, clearly displeased.

You don’t like it that I was talking with Adoniyram without your permission
, Shoshannah realized, anxious.
But Adoniyram is upset that I didn’t talk with him as much as he’d hoped. And his mother—that Sharah—would hate me for breathing any of her secrets. Meanwhile, our Lord Father Kuwsh longs for my death—which Perek will gladly take care of, I’m sure
. Silently, closing her eyes, turning her face heavenward, she pleaded,
Most High, how will You save me from them? Or won’t You?

Rain was falling now, like the tears she longed to shed. Somehow, she had to escape.

“Thank you for summoning me,” Shoshannah told Ra-Anan and Zeva’ah. She bowed politely, then knelt on the mat in their luxurious main room, now cleared of the evening meal. Zeva’ah raised her eyebrows at Shoshannah, seeming skeptical, but Ra-Anan watched her narrowly.

“Why do you thank us?” he asked, his face and words expressionless.

“Because I
am
thankful. I need your advice, Uncle. Today Adoniyram demanded that I tell him about his mother—and I don’t think I should.”

“Tell us what you know, child,” Zeva’ah urged, smiling, though not pleasantly. She obviously despised Sharah.

Uncertain, Shoshannah faltered, “Perhaps you know… It’s clear that Adoniyram doesn’t. He has a brother. And his mother—I mean, the Lady Sharah—had two husbands at the same time. Her first was—”

“Bezeq,” Ra-Anan finished, thoughtful. “They had a son, Gibbawr.”

“Yes.” Shoshannah sighed, relieved that he knew, and that he was so calm.

Her relief faded as Master Ra-Anan studied her for an unnervingly long time. Then, low and cool, he said, “You
are wise to ask our advice. Adoniyram doesn’t know about his mother’s past. But he should. The next time he asks, tell him the truth.”

“I can’t,” Shoshannah protested, alarmed. “He might be furious. And his mother would certainly be…”

“Plead that he say nothing to the Lady Sharah,” Zeva’ah interrupted, her dark, lovely eyes gleaming, revealing delight in this conspiracy. “Take Adoniyram into your confidence and gain
his.”

“But…”
That’s deceitful
, Shoshannah thought. She felt unclean now, staring at her smooth-shaven, authoritative uncle and her exacting aunt. They were unmistakably drawing her into a scheme against Adoniyram, or his mother, or both. Why had she decided to be so open with them—hiding nothing for fear of punishment? She wanted to be left out of whatever they were planning. “Couldn’t you tell him?” she pleaded.

Ra-Anan shook his head. “My Zeva’ah is right. He would be more likely to confide in you. But we will confirm your story—for he will certainly complain to us afterward. We’ll go hunting again in a few days. You’ll have another chance to speak with him then.” Smiling politely, he said, “The hunt today was a disappointment; you didn’t try your weapons.”

Frustrated that he was manipulating her, Shoshannah looked down, pressing her palms hard upon her fabric-clad knees. “Forgive me. I didn’t have my wrist guard or any of my gear; I left it with Ma’khole.”

“Who is Ma’khole?” Ra-Anan asked, suspicious.

“My little mare.” Shoshannah looked at him now, determined to gain at least one favor. “Do you know where she is, Uncle? Or if I might see her and find my gear?”

“If you behave tomorrow,” Zeva’ah said, “then in the
evening you might see your Ma’khole.” She seemed to emanate a silent warning that Shoshannah must include her when dealing with Ra-Anan.

Shoshannah lowered her head, sickened. She was trapped by these terrible people, who were also her relatives.
Why do You let them thrive, O Most High? They’re so sly; they should be crawling in the dust like snakes
.

She feared they would begin to question her again, but Ra-Anan said, “Go. Get some sleep.”

Sleep? Did they think she could sleep after
this?
She bowed to them quietly and crept off, aching physically and emotionally. Kal would be ashamed of her for giving in to them, for being so intimidated.
What else can I do?
she wondered. If only she could escape.

As soon as Shoshannah was gone, Zeva’ah looked at her husband, smiling, determined to know his thoughts. “What are you planning? Mischief against our precious Son of Heaven, or his dear Lady-Mother?”

Seizing her hand, pulling her close, Ra-Anan whispered, “Why should we tell Adoniyram such terrible news? Let Shoshannah do it and turn him to us. I give you my word, dear wife; soon he will be so tangled in his own troubles that he won’t be able to breathe unless we approve. As for his mother… she’s destroying herself. But I’ll be sure she doesn’t destroy us as well.”

“And what of the Lord Kuwsh?”

“What of him?” Ra-Anan kissed her hair absently. “Our people hate him more than they hate me. They want Adoniyram to lead them, but we will control him. Kuwsh will be isolated and ignored.”

Zeva’ah lifted her face to his, hoping he wouldn’t become irritated with her. “Tell me how you will control Adoniyram.”

Smiling secretively, Ra-Anan looked into her eyes. “I could destroy Adoniyram with a few words; I know his most devastating weakness. And don’t ask me what it is—I won’t tell you.”

To hide her disappointment, Zeva’ah laughed at him quietly, kissing his cheek, his lips, teasing, “But I want you to tell me
your
weakness, beloved.”

Kissing her lightly in turn, he said, “I don’t have one.”

Zeva’ah sighed. His self-confidence was endless, which was one of the reasons she had been attracted to him; he had provided for her even more splendidly than she had dared to hope. And yet there were problems. The most recent annoyance came to mind—being forced to shelter her bothersome niece. She couldn’t help grumbling, “At least that Shoshannah seems a bit easier to control than her mother was.”

“She’s already been useful. But you, dear wife, are perfect.” He kissed her again, becoming ardent now, one hand gliding down her bare arm.

Zeva’ah knew when to stop asking questions.

The next morning, sitting in Demamah’s private courtyard, Shoshannah unwound fine woolen yarn off a spindle and wrapped the threads around her upper left arm and hand, making a skein. Usually this was mindless work, from years of experience. Today it provoked memories and longings for her family.

Shoshannah sighed, half dreaming. “When we do this
at home, my sisters usually argue about what color the skeins should be, who received the previous woven garment, and who didn’t, and why. Usually, I’m so tired of working the wool that I don’t care.”

Seated beside her, equally busy, Demamah asked, “Where is ‘home’? You always talk about it, and I wish—”

Before Demamah could finish her question—which Shoshannah had no intention of answering precisely—Zeva’ah entered the courtyard, squinting against the sunlight. Her voice displeased, she said, “Shoshannah, you have a visitor.”

“A visitor?” Immediately nervous, Shoshannah carefully removed the half-wound skein from her arm and placed it in a basket with the spindle. After a prodding glance from Zeva’ah, Demamah did the same.

“You will say as little as possible,” Zeva’ah instructed Shoshannah severely. “Be polite, but don’t encourage her to visit again.”

Her? Who?
Wondering, Shoshannah smoothed her hair off her shoulders—a futile effort, she was sure. She would never look as graceful and lovely as Demamah, who walked ahead of her now through the narrow passage to the main room.

As she stepped past the thick curtains, Shoshannah saw a tiny woman kneeling formally on a mat in the center of the room, her small brown hands clasped upon a folded pile of leather and woolen garments.
My own clothes
, Shoshannah thought, delighted, spying her precious gray cloak. But why had the Lady Achlai sent this woman to her? Any servant could have returned the clothes without a word. And this tiny, pretty woman’s dark eyes were filling with tears, though she smiled.

“Shoshannah,” Zeva’ah said stiffly, “this is Meherah, your father’s adopted mother.”

Shoshannah knelt before Meherah, shocked, staring until she remembered her manners and bowed her head. “Forgive me for being rude.” Lifting her head, she studied Meherah, who was weeping, exultant.

“Child, you look just like your mother!”

Meherah was so delightfully unexpected that Shoshannah laughed. “I’m glad you’re happy about my looks—most people aren’t. You’re truly my father’s I’ma?”

“Oh, you have his dimples!” Meherah cried, touching Shoshannah’s face. “Though he smiled so rarely. Is he still very grim?”

“When I misbehave,” Shoshannah said, feeling tears start to the corners of her eyes. She longed to fling herself into Meherah’s arms and hug her. How wonderful to meet someone who loved her parents.

“Where is he now?” Meherah asked. But then she shook her braid-wrapped head, clearly regretting the question as soon as it emerged from her lips.

Sorely aware of Zeva’ah’s prying eyes and listening ears, Shoshannah smiled. “He’s in a safe place, I’ma-Meherah. And I pray he stays there.”