Crown in the Stars (24 page)

“Shoshannah won’t mind if others live here first?” Ozniy asked, grateful but concerned.

“It can’t be helped. I don’t know how long we’ll be away, and I’d hate to leave it abandoned—or else Shoshannah will meet clans of mice when she walks inside for the first time.” Kaleb thumped his brother’s shoulder, scolding, “You should have been building
your
lodge while Mithqah was gone. Did you think her parents would refuse you?”

Ozniy shrugged, self-depreciative. “Her parents could have chosen anyone else. I didn’t know she was so interested in
me
until a few months before she left.”

“You weren’t paying attention,” Kaleb said, rolling his eyes in mock disgust. “She’s been watching you for more than a year. I didn’t say anything to you because I knew she’d be embarrassed and because Father Ashkenaz wouldn’t have liked it. And Shoshannah would have been angry with me for weeks.” Thinking of Shoshannah, Kaleb’s joy faded. Quietly he said, “I’m sorry we’ll miss your wedding.”

Embarrassed as their father when confronted with sentiment, Ozniy turned gruff. “Mithqah and I forgive you. Just be sure you all return safely.”

“We will. Though I wish Father Shem weren’t going with us; it worries me that he’s putting himself in danger. I…” Kaleb stopped and stared, confounded, as Zekaryah rode by, guiding three horses: Keren’s dark one, Zekaryah’s big tawny animal, and a sturdy packhorse, already loaded with gear. “He’s going with us. I’ma-Keren too.”

“I thought Zekaryah told her she couldn’t go.”

“She’s obviously convinced him that she can.” Kaleb longed to argue with Zekaryah and Keren, but he knew it would be useless. Truly, if a child of his own were ever in danger, he would do anything to save her. He muttered to Ozniy, “If Ima-Keren’s enemies find her, she will die. Pray for us.”

“I will.” After a grim pause, Ozniy said, “We should go load your gear.”

Kaleb hugged his burly, self-conscious father. Uncomfortable, Regem lectured him. “Obey Father Shem and Zekaryah. And listen to your brother once in a while—don’t go rushing off like a wild man doing as you please. Ask for their advice; then keep your mouth shut.”

Kaleb grinned. “I’ll try, Father. Be safe while I’m gone.”

He dreaded telling his mother good-bye; Pakhdaw had been crying all morning, and her usually placid brown face was blotchy, her eyes very red. As he kissed her cheek, she began to sob again.

Kaleb bent, facing her almost nose to nose. “I’ma, think how calm everything’s going to be without your rascal son here. You should be glad I’ll be gone for a while.”

“That’s no help,” she complained, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “You just bring our Shoshannah home and settle down. And don’t get your brother into trouble.”

Hearing this, Tiyrac protested, “I’ma, do you think I’d let him talk me into anything?”

“Kaleb has always convinced you to do as he pleases, Tiyrac, and you know it.” She patted Tiyrac’s face as if he were tiny again. “Just be careful. I love you both.”

Visibly discomfited, Tiyrac kissed her good-bye, nodded to their father, then marched off toward the horses. Kaleb hastily told his parents about his bargain with Ozniy, hugged Pakhdaw in farewell, and fled.

Heartsick, Keren kissed her daughters. Qetuwrah and Adah clung to her and sobbed. They felt so fragile as she held them. Was she wrong to leave her five younger children in order to be near her firstborn?
I should stay …

Ahyit and Sithriy leaned against her, patting her back—too “adult” to hug her like mere babies. Keren hugged her sons fiercely and kissed their faces.

Sithriy pulled away slightly, solemn, looking just like his father. “You’ll bring her back safely, I’ma.”

Keren wished she felt as confident as he sounded. Rinnah burrowed between her siblings now and hugged Keren’s waist. Keren picked her up, swaying, fighting tears. “Little one… be good for our I’ma-Ritspah.”

Rinnah sniffled. “But I’m going to stay with I’ma-Pakhdaw. She needs me.”

“You just hope she won’t make you work as hard as I’ma-Ritspah will,” Adah said knowingly. She turned to Keren. “I’ma, don’t worry; Qetuwrah and I will make them behave. We’ll take care of everything.”

Beside her, Qetuwrah nodded, saying brokenly, “And we’ll clean the lodge.”

The girls were already making plans to be without her. The boys expected her to go—though they also expected her to return, which might not be possible.

“Remember us when you pray,” Keren said, kissing them all again.
O Most High, please guard them!

“We’ll stay with the Tribe of Metiyl while you go on to the Great City,” Zekaryah explained to Kaleb and Tiyrac, as they led their horses down a hillside trail. “Until then, as we journey, you’ll practice with your weapons. And we’ll make plans. You won’t be able to just ride into the Great City and demand Shoshannah’s return.”

Absorbing this information, Kaleb looked down the trail to Shem, I’ma-Annah, and I’ma-Keren, who were following

Metiyl, the disgraced Echuwd, Yelahlah, and Rakal, who rode proudly atop Echuwd’s horse. “What about Father Shem and I’ma-Annah? Have you persuaded them to stay with you?”

“For a while,” Zekaryah answered, toneless. “But he’s a First Father.”

Meaning you might not stop him if he decides to ride into the Great City and confront his enemies, who could kill him
. “How can we find Shoshannah?” Kaleb asked. “You’ll become guardsmen—you and Tiyrac.” Kaleb groaned inwardly. “That will take time.”

“Yes.”

Give me patience, O Most High
.

Accompanied by Keren, Annah noticed Yelahlah slowing as they picked their way down the hillside. When Annah and Keren drew nearer to her, Yelahlah faced them, tired, worried. “I haven’t told you… Sharah apparently has a son who is the same age as Shoshannah—perhaps a little older.”

“Nimr-Rada had a son with Sharah?” Annah thought,
How terrible to have such parents
. “Did he seem well mannered?”

“I don’t know,” Yelahlah said, eyeing her son and her husband. “Sharah was so hateful and sent us away so quickly that I had no time to watch him—though he is a very handsome young man.” She glanced at Keren. “Father Kuwsh, too, was hateful. Oh, Keren, so many in the Great City blame you for Nimr-Rada’s death.”

Keren nodded, as if unsurprised, but her color faded. “I pray Shoshannah hasn’t been treated too badly.”

Giving Keren a pathetic sidelong look, Yelahlah asked, “Can you forgive me?”

Annah saw Keren struggling to restrain the hurt and rage she felt over her daughter’s predicament. She clearly blamed Yelahlah, though she loved her. As Annah hoped, Keren finally nodded, subdued. “Yes. I know you tried to help her… afterward.”

Yelahlah was obviously disappointed that Keren’s forgiveness wasn’t wholehearted. But what could she expect? Surely Yelahlah would feel the same way if her own Rakal were endangered by someone else’s foolishness.

To divert them, Annah wondered aloud, “Do you suppose your cousin Tsinnah has had her baby yet?”

Counting off months on her fingers, Yelahlah said, “If not, then it’s any day now.”

“I’m glad for her,” Keren murmured.

Annah noticed her wistful tone; Keren was evidently longing for another child.

Keren caught Annah’s glance and said, “I’ma-Annah, does Father Shem really intend to go into the Great City and confront Sharah and Ra-Anan and Kuwsh?”

“If need be,” Annah replied, dreading the thought. She looked ahead at her husband, who was talking with Metiyl. “All I can say for certain is that my Shem and I feel compelled by the Most High to go with you. Our Noakh and I’ma-Naomi agreed, so surely there’s a reason—though I am afraid to know what that reason might be.”

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Keren offered. “I’m not trying to be rid of you, I’ma-Annah, but… what if Kuwsh and the others no longer respect your age and your status as our First Father and First Mother?”

“If that is true, then the children of my children have no regard for anything, including the Most High, which
means that I’ve failed completely.” Pondering this, Annah said, “I would despise living with such shame.”

“We need you to live,” Keren told her, widening her pale gray eyes—suddenly looking very young and distressed.

Cherishing Keren’s obvious concern, Annah said, “We also need you to live, Keren-child. Don’t forget that.”

Keren looked away, shrugging as if she had already given up the thought of survival. Watching her, Yelahlah seemed ready to protest. But then she lowered her head despondently. In silence, the three women continued along the rocky, downward-sloping path.

Thirteen

“DO YOU THINK we have enough of the crimson to continue the pattern?” Demamah asked, crouching beside Shoshannah in the small, private courtyard. They both studied the emerging cream-and-crimson woolen pattern in the ground loom, which extended for half the length of Demamah’s garden.

“I’m sure we’ve figured it accurately,” Shoshannah mused, resting her chin on her fingertips. “But if we’re in doubt, we could make this as a border, reduce the crimson in the main pattern, then finish the other end of this fabric as we’ve begun it, so the edges will match. And if we have some crimson left, we can make a belt.”