Crown in the Stars (36 page)

“I’ve nothing better to do,” Adoniyram agreed, shrugging.

Kaleb was certain Adoniyram was pretending indifference.
What are you planning, O Son of Heaven
, he wondered, fighting to rein in his temper.
And how can I defend Shoshannah against you all?
He had never felt so useless in his life.

Twenty

ECHUWD SAT at the evening fire and watched his enemies: Zekaryah, Keren, Father Shem, and I’ma-Annah, and Metiyl, who had been guarding him so closely that he couldn’t escape. He was a captive in Metiyl’s tribe. Worse, he had lost almost a year’s worth of profits from trading. All because of that girl, who was too thoughtless to keep her face hidden as he’d instructed.

She and her madman husband will probably get themselves killed somehow. Then I’ll be blamed and put to death too. How can I save myself?
Echuwd’s heart thudded furiously as he considered ways to escape.

An idea, simple and easily accomplished, took hold in his mind. His relatives would be here in a few days, finished with their latest trading expedition in the highlands. They would help him. Mentally he calculated what
price must be demanded and rehearsed what he would say. He had to regain what he had lost.

“We ought to depart soon,” Keren murmured as her dear friend Tsinnah knelt beside her, holding her infant daughter, Tavah. “News might spread that we’re here.”

“Another month or so won’t matter,” Tsinnah whispered. “You’ll be safe here for at least that long.”

“Yes, but then we’ll go north to stay with Neshar and Revakhaw, though I’d hate to put them in danger.”

“They won’t consider you a danger; they love you. But are you going to take Yelahlah and that Echuwd with you?”

Keren sighed, torn over this still-unmade decision. At last she said, “Father Metiyl believes Echuwd should be kept here until Shoshannah, Kaleb, and Tiyrac return safely.”

“I agree with Father Metiyl.” Tsinnah stroked Tavah’s delicate fingers. The baby, sweet and pretty as her mother, yawned and stretched drowsily.

Keren smiled, distracted her from troubles. “May I hold her?”

Tsinnah fondly passed the baby to her.

Keren relaxed, kissing the infant’s soft cheek and wondering at her name.
Tavah. To grieve
. “Why did you give her such a name, Tsinnah? Isn’t she a joy to you?”

“Yes, but I fear I’ll outlive her and be left with grief instead. And… because I have caused sorrow for you, with your Shoshannah.”

“That wasn’t your fault.” Keren rocked Tavah gently, lulling her to sleep.

“I still blame myself.” Smiling faintly, Tsinnah said, “By the way, Shoshannah wonders if you will honor her as an elder when she becomes old and gray before you.”

Keren laughed, though tears filled her eyes. “How like her. Elder nothing! I’ll scold her and send her off for a nap first.”

“Always the mother.” Tsinnah hesitated. “I pray the Most High saves her for us.”

“Yes,” Keren agreed, trying to subdue her tears and the feelings of anger against Him. Life would have been desolate without Shoshannah… without all her babies… She would never regret their existence. Never.

Twenty-One

LESSONS AGAIN. Miserable, followed by Ormah, Perek, and a number of guardsmen, Shoshannah rode behind Ra-Anan, Kuwsh, and Adoniyram through the crowded market street. Strangely clad tribes were visiting the Great City, jostling with the usual merchants, loudly offering peculiar, garishly colored robes, heavy copper and gold earrings, feather hair adornments, furs, and pungent meats and curdled milks that made Shoshannah feel sick.

A rounded, leather-clad young man hurried out and grasped Shoshannah’s horse by the mane, halting her. “If you’ve any wounds, we have cures!” he cried. “Poultices! Herbs! Permanent tracings of protection against all misfortunes!”

Taken aback, Shoshannah stared at him.

He bared his arm, revealing a dark, bluish series of
disfigured lines and dots along his shoulder and forearm. The marks seemed to be etched beneath his skin like permanent bruises. He rubbed them hard, but they didn’t smudge. “These can never be scrubbed off! For one measure of grain or half a measure of meat…”

“Get away!” Perek snarled, riding forward, jabbing his spear toward the peddler.

“Don’t you threaten my son!” A woman garbed in fur and beads stormed at Perek, her anger rousing everyone nearby. “He’s only offering remedies—which
you
need for settling yourself!”

“Stop!
Perek, back away.” Apparently provoked by the commotion, Ra-Anan scowled, turning his horse toward them. “Woman, I can have my guards confiscate your belongings and chase you and your family off like rubbish. Don’t delay us further. If you want to trade goods here, you cannot lay hands on anyone in these streets.” Ominously, he added, “Make a booth and keep to it.”

Ra-Anan’s cold, scarred, clean-shaven features, his splendid robes, and all his guards apparently convinced the woman. She pulled her son back, but she was fuming. “Make a booth? With what? Nonsense! We’ve arrived with nothing. Bariyach, come away!”

Drawing rebellious looks after him from other merchants, Ra-Anan rode onward.

Adoniyram slowed his horse to ride with Shoshannah. Eyeing her, he asked softly, “Did that man touch you?”

“No. He touched only the horse’s mane.” Adoniyram’s dangerous tone and cutting stare took Shoshannah’s breath away. She had to remind herself not to look back at Kaleb for help. Recovering, she stammered, “I-I’m well. Truly.”

“You don’t look well.”

“I was shocked. He was offering ‘protection against all misfortunes.’”

“Why is that so shocking?” Adoniyram relaxed now, shaking his head at her. “There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself against misfortunes.”

“He had marks beneath his skin, and scars. They looked horrible.”

“Oh, those.” Adoniyram was dismissive of her ignorance. “Certain tribes cut patterns into their skin, then rub them with powders to dye them. When the marks heal, the dyes remain.”

More at ease now, Shoshannah argued quietly, “But dyes won’t protect you against misfortune. Only the Most High can do that—and sometimes we have to struggle through difficulties to learn.”

“Then that shows your Most High’s cruelty,” Adoniyram interrupted, smiling.

Offended by his derision, Shoshannah said, “The Most High isn’t cruel;
we
are. I think you’re looking for reasons to turn against Him. If He were truly horrible, Cousin, we wouldn’t exist. The Great Flood would have destroyed us all. But He loves us—He longs to protect us.”

“As He has protected you thus far?”

“Perhaps He has protected me and we don’t realize it.”

“I’ve
protected you,” Adoniyram said.

“And you’re supposed to ignore me in public. Go away.”

“But who will protect you if I go?”

Now he was flirting with her. She had to discourage him. Kal would notice.

“Lady,” a woman called from alongside the street ahead.

Shoshannah looked. Several young matrons with dark, tapering braids and lavish shawls were clustered together.

One of them nudged another, who held an infant. “Will you honor her child?”

“I’m no one here,” Shoshannah started to say, but the shawl-swathed mother quickly lifted her baby toward Shoshannah. A newborn. Moved with longing, Shoshannah halted her plodding horse and accepted the baby, cuddling it gratefully. She kissed the newborn’s forehead, stared into its soft eyes, then returned it safely to the proud mother. “Thank you. What a beautiful child.”

Jolted unexpectedly, Shoshannah turned to see Adoniyram riding ahead, leading her horse by the bridle. “Adoniyram…”

He looked back at her, raising an eyebrow. “Now I’ll have to agree with my mother when she complains that you’re stupid and trying to take over her kingdom.”

“I can’t take her ‘kingdom’ if I’m truly stupid, can I? Tell her that I just want to go back to my family. Please, Adoniyram, let me guide my own horse, and you can ignore me for the rest of the day.”

Bowing his head in taunting silence, Adoniyram released her horse. But he looked pleased.

Attended by Ormah and Perek, Shoshannah wandered onto the rain-dampened terrace. Her lesson was finished and she wanted to leave, but her uncle and Lord Kuwsh were talking with several tradesmen in a far corner of the terrace, gesturing broadly, raising images of the tower’s ever-increasing future levels. Adoniyram waited
nearby, arms crossed, looking as bored as Shoshannah felt. Kaleb, meanwhile, was near the stairs, long spear in hand, clearly on guard duty. There was no chance of speaking with him.

Sighing, Shoshannah retreated to the moist garden area, studying the raised bricked beds, dormant shrubs, and young trees. To her dismay, Adoniyram followed her, motioning Ormah and Perek back.

“I’m here to protect you again,” he teased softly.

Resisting his flirtatious overtones, she argued in a whisper, “That’s what you believe.
I
say that the Most High has directed you to guard me.”

Adoniyram grimaced, as if her opinion was ridiculous. “He hasn’t spoken to me.”

“Then you can’t be the Promised One. But that wasn’t what I meant; I think the Most High has caused you to help me, whether you realize it or not.”

“No, I’ve made all my decisions for myself,” the Young Lord argued, unnervingly serious. Leaning toward her, he murmured, “That brings me to another thought: What if I
am
the Promised One?”

“You aren’t, O Son of Nimr-Rada.”

Hesitant, his words a mere hair thread of sound, Adoniyram breathed, “Tell no one: I’m not the Great King’s son.”

Shoshannah felt all the blood ebbing from her face. She could hardly speak. Was he serious? “Whose son are you, then?”

“Perhaps a son of Arpakshad.”

She stared at him for a long instant and decided he was challenging her. “You don’t know that.” “You don’t know that I’m not.”

Remembering the stories of her childhood, learned
during happy evenings spent with the Ancient Noakh and I’ma-Naomi, Shoshannah said, “I was taught that we will recognize the Promised One by his unfailing love and obedience toward the Most High. You don’t love the Most High; you cannot be the Promised One.”

“What if I should turn to the Most High?”

Again she stared at him, amazed, doubtful. “Will you?”

He smiled charmingly. “You don’t know that either, do you?”

“You’re mocking me.”

“No, I’m not.”

She wished he were.

Perek approached now, beckoning her. Lord Kuwsh and Master Ra-Anan were preparing to depart.