Crown in the Stars (3 page)

“There will be no rebellion,” Ra-Anan said firmly, displeased. “But I see you are going to hunt. Let’s discuss
these things tonight or tomorrow over a meal; everything will be settled fairly, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Uncle. You’ll hear from me soon.”

Ra-Anan watched the proud young man ride off with his entourage of equally proud servants.

Adoniyram
, he thought composedly,
I can destroy your life and your mother’s life with a few words. But do I wish to destroy you? The citizens almost worship you; therefore, I think I would prefer to control you. The question is
how?

“I saw you talking to Adoniyram,” Kuwsh accused Ra-Anan as they rode through the streets of the Great City, ignoring the citizens. “What did you say?”

Determined to placate him, Ra-Anan said, “We agreed to meet later, share a meal, and discuss his role in the kingdom—in your presence of course, my lord.”

“He will seek more power as the years pass,” Kuwsh said darkly. “There will be a struggle because he is so well liked. I wish my son had lived.”

Kuwsh had six sons, but the only one who truly meant anything to him was the one who had died: the Great-King-Mighty-Hunter Nimr-Rada. Very quietly, Kuwsh said, “I should have killed your sister—that
Keren
—when I had the chance.”

“It might have been for the best,” Ra-Anan agreed, remembering Keren—her idealism, her unshakable loyalty to the Ancient Ones, and her remarkable spirit—amazing in such a tenderhearted woman. “If our Great King were still alive, we wouldn’t be facing these troubles now.”

“I could still gladly kill her.”

“She did not hold the sword that took his life,” Ra-Anan goaded him softly. “But she drew him to it!”

“At the command of those Ancient Ones. What would you do if you had
them
in your power, my lord? I’m curious.”

“Those old storytelling fools!” Kuwsh sneered.

But he didn’t answer Ra-Anan’s question, which pleased Ra-Anan.
You still fear them in your heart
, he thought, satisfied.
Those Ancient Ones and their Most High. They are your weakness
.

Not mine
.

“Look at them, my lord,” Rab-Mawg muttered. The thin, bald-shaven young Chief Magician-Priest knelt next to Adoniyram on a terrace of the tower beneath the star-scattered night sky.

Feigning indifference, Adoniyram glanced across the dark tree-lined terrace at Father Kuwsh and Master Ra-Anan. They were huddled together like two shadowed vultures, plotting to keep him tethered close where they could watch his every move—and politely counteract all his plans.
Go there. Stay here. Say this, but don’t say that. Bow to your mother. Be patient …

Despite all their earlier promises and pretenses of giving him some authority in the Great City, Adoniyram felt as if he were treading water. As if he were living and breathing, nothing more. Beside him, Rab-Mawg obviously felt the same. Ra-Anan usually ignored Rab-Mawg’s suggestions or concerns and ordered him to give his full attention to receiving sacrifices and organizing temple
ceremonies. As for Father Kuwsh, he shunned Rab-Mawg completely, clearly considering him just an irritating boy who did nothing but play with lamps, screens, smoke, incense, and polished copper mirrors.

Adoniyram, however, considered the young magician to be a potential—though volatile—ally for the future. But for now, he chose to bide his time and pretend disinterest. Watching his would-be enemies, he said blandly, “Let us appreciate them, Rab-Mawg. They are keeping this kingdom intact. Someday, when they’re unable to rule, they might have me trained to step into their places.”

Me. Not us, Rab-Mawg. Notice how I phrased that. I will rule my own kingdom
.

But when? And how could he gracefully topple those two predators from power? Not to mention his mother, whose tantrums and self-indulgences were increasingly difficult to manage. Silently Adoniyram stared up at the late summer constellations: the Serpent, the Lady, and the Child. The High Month of Shemesh, with all its ceremonies, sacrifices, heat, and intricacies, had already passed, leaving him bored.

“When you do step into their places, you will claim your own symbols in the stars,” Rab-Mawg said firmly, studying the skies. “But those you should keep.” He nodded toward the Lady and the Child. “Those were proclaimed as yours; your people look to you as their Promised One.”

Am I the Promised One who will restore the earth to perfection as it was in the beginning?
Adoniyram doubted it. The people of this city believed he was their protector. The two manipulative vultures on the other side of the terrace did not. What weren’t they telling him?

“I pray to the heavens that I eventually live up to their expectations.”

“You will, my lord,” Rab-Mawg answered confidently, pondering the stars again.

Adoniyram frowned in the darkness. He needed to pry Master Ra-Anan and Kuwsh off their high perches. What could throw them off balance? How could he make them act so foolishly that the people would rebel and turn to him—Adoniyram—instead?

He could only wait.

Three

“HOLD STILL,” Shoshannah urged as she combed her five-year-old sister’s dark, springy waist-length curls. “You’ll be so pretty when I’m finished.”

“I’m already pretty,” Rinnah informed her. “Father Ashkenaz called me a pretty bird.”

“Father Ashkenaz calls every little girl pretty. But he calls the noisy ones
bird,”
Shoshannah teased. “And you’re the prettiest, most noisy bird in the whole…” Her voice faded to nothing as their own father’s tall, dark form filled the doorway of the lodge. Zekaryah had obviously learned of her latest prank, and he didn’t seem amused, as she’d hoped he would be. But surely he couldn’t be
too
angry with her—after all, the joke was on Kaleb.

Her stomach tightened into a hard little knot as Zekaryah gave her a stern look. Turning to Keren, who
was trimming leather for boots, he said, “Come see what your daughter has done.”

“My daughter?” Immediately, Keren flashed a worried glance at Shoshannah. “What did you do now?” She hurried outside without waiting for an answer.

“What did you do?” Rinnah begged in an excited whisper.

“Come see.” Determined to get her punishment over with quickly, Shoshannah straightened her leather tunic and leggings, shoved her feet into a pair of short boots, and led the capering Rinnah outside. As they hurried through the village toward the stone-and-hewn-timber stables, she almost wished Rinnah weren’t so big. To carry a small child was wonderful protection against severe punishment. Instead, she had to content herself with holding Rinnah’s hand.

But even before they reached the stables, Shoshannah heard her mother’s laughter rising over Kal’s indignant protests. And Father usually weakened when I’ma laughed. Heartened, Shoshannah took Rinnah to the woven-fenced herding area where Kaleb was tending his precious new horse, Khiysh.

On seeing the horse, Rinnah shrieked and danced with delight. “You’ve made him
ugly!
”

The usually tawny Khiysh wore bright face paints—garish, huge red-ochre-dotted “cheeks,” flauntingly black-smudged and red-streaked eyes, and Shoshannah’s own handprints in red and black along his well-groomed neck.

As Shoshannah hid a smile, Kal beckoned her, frustrated. “Shoshannah! What did you put on him? I saw all this red and thought he was dying!”

Others in the village were gathering around now, laughing with Keren, who was desperately trying to compose
herself. Mithqah’s parents, I’ma-Ritspah and the sturdy Uzziel, chortled as they stood near Keren. And the tribe’s matriarch, I’ma-Laheh’beth, chuckled, while her husband, the bearded, burly, rumbling Father Ashkenaz, laughed and stamped his leather-booted feet.

“Shoshannah-bird!” he bellowed happily. “I recognized your handiwork. Who else would do such a thing?”

Shoshannah flinched, wondering if she’d gone too far. Mithqah sidled up now, her dark eyelashes aflutter with distress. “Kal probably deserved this, Shoshannah, but you’ve actually upset him. And his brothers…”

Alarmed, Shoshannah looked at Kaleb’s older brothers, Ozniy and Tiyrac, both serious, almost as tall as Kal, and wonderfully rough hewn. Their big arms were folded forbiddingly across their chests, and their dark eyebrows were raised in her direction. Clearly, in their silent opinion, it was one thing for her to tease their brother, but it was quite another thing for her to make a mockery of a fine horse like Khiysh. And her father obviously agreed with them. Despite I’ma’s laughter, he still looked grim.

Zekaryah approached Shoshannah and scooped up the now-quiet Rinnah. “Go help Kaleb. And apologize—I’m watching you!”

“Yes, Father,” Shoshannah murmured, lowering her eyes. She hated herself for disappointing him over a mere joke. Not to mention upsetting Kal’s brothers, whom she usually counted on as steadfast allies.

“I’ll go speak to Ozniy,” Mithqah whispered, distracted. She adored Ozniy and was clearly fretting over his sour reaction.

Sighing, Shoshannah clambered over the sturdily woven fence and jumped down into the dusty herding area.
“I’ll need some oil,” she told Kal. “I used fats and pigments, so water won’t work.”

He immediately went into the stable and fetched a carved wooden jar and two swatches of soft leather. After dousing one piece of leather with the oil, he handed the remaining swatch and the jar to Shoshannah. She oiled her leather swatch, set the jar away, then quietly approached Khiysh, who was becoming skittish with all the attention. Snorting, Khiysh tossed his head, backing away.

Shoshannah crooned warmly, “Come, come, Khiysh…”

As the other villagers drifted off to their daily tasks, the nervous horse settled down and allowed Shoshannah to rub the paints from his face.

Kal grumbled to Khiysh, “If you could see how ridiculous you look, you wouldn’t let her near you!” He threw an almost-angry glance at Shoshannah, but his green-brown eyes glinted with reluctant amusement. “Next time you want to make fun of me, Shoshannah, leave poor Khiysh out of it. He doesn’t deserve to be humiliated.”

“Perhaps there won’t be a next time.”

Kaleb froze. “What do you mean? Are you giving me up?”

“Do you think I could? No! I only meant that I’m sorry I upset you, and perhaps we should stop teasing each other.”

“Where’s the joy in that?” Relaxing now, Kal daubed at Khiysh’s darkened eyes. “All we need are a few rules.”

“You’re
talking about rules?”

He grinned. “Perhaps I’ve been around your father too long.”

“Do you think he’s so terrible?” She rubbed a red smudge off Khiysh’s neck, ready to argue.

“No. He’s a good man. Honorable.” Bending to look Shoshannah in the eyes, Kal said, “I could easily endure
him as a father-in-law for a lifetime. Not to mention your mother.”

Kaleb loved Keren. His voice always softened when he spoke of her, even now, after she had laughed at his cherished horse. And he always insisted that his first childhood memory was of riding a horse with her.