Angels at the Gate (28 page)

“Then you must tell me.”

“I cannot.”

I shrug. “Then you leave me no choice. I do not trust Samsu-iluna.”

Chiram grunts. “On that we agree.”

I start toward the nearest Babylonian soldier, but Raph snatches my arm, spinning me toward him. Nami watches this with anxious eyes. Chiram scratches his filthy beard.

“All right,” Raph says in a harsh whisper. “I will tell you, but only you.”

I nod.

Chiram spits.

Raph leads me away from the river. Water carries the sound of voices. We head toward the far side of a hill, passing a shallow cave. One of the soldiers watches us. I see calculation on his face and straighten my spine. That is something I have learned in my short time of being a woman. You are always watched, and there is always conjecture churning behind the eyes of those watching. My days of living carefree are done. Now, I must watch my watchers. This is why women have husbands—to protect them, to keep them safe from such men. This is why my father made me swear to go to Sarai and put myself under her care. If she cannot find me a husband, she will at least take me in as family.

I pull my thoughts from this, because I must be resolute with Raph. If he senses weakness, he will leap upon it.

Behind the hill, I confront him. “Tell me why we left Mika behind. The truth.”

“You know the truth, or part of it. Mika too does not trust Samsu-iluna, and he wishes us to be safe from him.”

“The fingers of Babylonia are long,” I say. “They reached us even in the Vale.”

“That is why I must leave you.”

“Leave?” I thought I did not love him, but my belly tightens. “Why? Where?”

“I go north. To return to my people.”

My eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why would Samsu-iluna be a threat to you?”

Raph shrugs. “I am Mika's brother. If the king has me in his possession, he can force Mika to stay with him.”

“Then why let us go?”

“He is a king. He gave his word before his Council. He would lose all credibility if he did not honor his word.”

A tiny twitch below his right eye gives him away.

“There is more.” I do not say it as a question.

Annoyed, he brushes a hand across his mouth. He and Mika have the same sensitive mouth, I realize, and for a moment, I am snatched into Mika's arms, tasting his lips, feeling him inside me, and a jolt of fire races down my belly. The memory is almost as powerful as the experience.

“Adira?” Raph reaches out his hand. His voice is now full of concern. “Are you well? Do you need to sit?”

I swallow. “I am fine.”

“You looked unsteady again.”

“I am well,” I say stubbornly. “You were telling me the true reason you agreed to abandon Mika in Samsu-iluna's hands and will abandon me to Chiram and these men.”

Raph's gaze drops. “I must.”

“Tell me then. You owe me that.”

He lifts his eyes to mine. “I have the dreaming stone.”

“What? How is that possible?” But even as the words left my mouth, I remember Mika's conditions to the priestess:
“Only my brother will touch the box.”

Raph glances over his shoulder, though our position behind the hill not only hides us from view, but from any eavesdropper. “After the ascension, I substituted another stone in its place in the box,” he says in a low voice.

“But what if Mika needs to see another future?”

Raph keeps my gaze. “It is more important the stone return safely to our people. We have been its guardians for as many turns of the seasons as the stars in the sky.”

I stare at him.

“That is why I must leave you, Adira. I do not wish to. I did not want to leave Mika, but my first duty is to return the stone.”

“Why did you bring it to start with?” I practically hiss at him. “Why not leave it where it was safe?”

“We came searching for something more valuable than the stone itself, and Mika thought we might need it to guide our path.”

“What is more valuable than a stone that can crack open the portals of the future?”

“Lost knowledge.”

Then I remember Mika has already told me this. “Have you then found this knowledge?”

“No. But to lose the stone as well—we cannot allow that to happen.”

There is nothing left to say. Raph is telling me his truth. His thoughts are plainly written in his eyes and his stance. He is far easier to read than Mika.

We return to the camp. The sun is hidden now below the horizon, and
a chill settles in place of the day's heat. Chiram has a fire made and cooks a stew with meat from a gazelle one of the men brought down. It smells wonderful and sweeps me back to the days of traveling with our caravan. My heart aches that those times will never be again. My father will never call me into his tent to chastise me for some mischief or praise me for some deed well done.

I squat beside Chiram, my longing for childhood overcoming my distaste for him. “Is it ready?”

“No.”

The fire crackles.

“What are you going to do when we return?” I ask, surprised I am even interested, but Chiram is the only remaining connection with my father.

He tastes the broth and adds a pinch of something before answering. His gaze finds the camel that has folded her legs beneath her and surveys us with a regal calmness. “I am thinking I now have enough for a caravan of my own.”

I nod. The silver he has is enough to fund this.

He picks at his front tooth with a dirty fingernail. “These creatures are not utilized to their capacity.”

“The camels?”

He grunts.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do we use donkeys when camels can carry so much more, eat less, and can cross the desert itself?”

I turn this thought over in my mind and cannot find an answer to dispute him. It is a good idea, but praise for him cannot make it past my lips. I try to remember one kind thing Chiram had ever said to me and must give it up without an answer.

Nami returns from her exploring and presses against my side. I scratch behind her ears, and my fingers begin working out the mats. She shakes her head, but I tell her to be still, and she sighs in resignation and settles beside me.

T
HAT NIGHT
, I lie on my back, staring up at the stars, trying not to allow the memories that threaten to tear me apart. Will I ever look at the night sky again without remembering Mika's touch? Will I never see him again?

Beside me, Nami lifts her head and pricks her ears toward the rise
where Raph and I had conversed. “What is it?” I ask, my imagination painting a lion behind the hill. She continues to stare, but does not seem agitated, as she would if a predator were lurking. And if she heard prey, she would be after it. After our time in the desert, she often brings small game to me for approval, though she prefers her meat cooked in Chiram's pot.

Something pricks my mind, and I realize none of the soldiers are in sight. They are supposed to guard us, so either they have abandoned that obligation, or they are all together discussing something … something they do not want our ears to hear.

I glance to where Chiram snores loudly and Raph lies sprawled in sleep. I had not given much thought to our safety while I knew Raph was with us, but that has changed. He will leave us soon. His path of duty is clear. The stone's safety comes ahead of his brother's life or my safety. I believe he would place it without hesitation before his own life.

Calling on the skills I have honed all my life, I rise and head toward the hill. Nami stays at my side. She knows we are hunting and also moves stealthily.

As we approach, I hear voices from inside the cave and find a place where a boulder conceals us. Signaling Nami down, I hear a man saying, “It is not a plan I care for. Should Samsu-iluna hear we killed them before we reached Mira, he will not be pleased. He swore their safe passage to that city.”

“Who knows what will happen to them or their wealth in Mira?” a deeper voice replies. “My contact told me they carry silver—five rings each. Gifts from the king.”

“What does the tall warrior keep wrapped in those blankets, is what I want to know.” This third voice I think belongs to the man with a wide, jagged scar over his right brow. “He walks beside it every day, never makes water out of sight of it. I would lay a wager it holds a great treasure.”

“We will tell the king they tried to run, and we had to kill them.”

A spit. “That is the stupidest thing I have heard coming from your mouth, Kuri, and there has been enough of such to fill a canal. What do you say when Samsu-iluna asks where his silver is?”

“If you are so much our better, Puzir, how is it you forget the king will ask the same if we kill them
after
Mira? He will want his silver either way.”

There is a moment of quiet.

The voice I now have labeled Puzir says, “Then we cannot return if we wish the silver for ourselves. None of us has a wife. We can find a new place and live like kings ourselves.”

“I have a wife,” Scar says.

“Is she worth five bracelets of silver?”

Silence.

Laughter. “I thought thus. You can find another woman where we go—a better one with your share.”

“And where would that be?”

“A discussion we can have once the deed is done. Perhaps best for us to choose separate paths.”

“When then?”

“Night.”

“This night?”

Scar sounds eager. I shiver.

“No, tomorrow. We have a long day's trek, and I can plan it.”

With a jolt, I realize I will be discovered when they finish their discussion. I wave my hand before Nami's nose and then to my forehead to make sure I have her attention before making the signal for “quiet” and “follow,” hunting signals I learned when we lived with the nomads. She rises and trots beside me as I make my way back, my heart beating in my throat at what I have heard.

Even as I slip under the blanket on my pallet, it thuds so hard, I fear the men will hear it and not wait to thrust their knives and still it. My thoughts scramble around until I rein them in. I cannot do anything to arouse the guard's suspicions, but we cannot wait either.

It is not difficult to keep awake now. I do not want to die at the hands of these men. Nami nestles close, and I put my hand on her head. The contact clears my mind, and I can think. If they hold true to the plan I overheard, I may be able to warn Raph tomorrow, but what if our guards change their minds and decide to slay us tonight?

I wait until the sliver of moon has begun her arc across the sky and slip my blanket to the side. Nami pushes against me, stealing the warm space I vacated. “Stay,” I tell her softly, reinforcing the command with a hand signal. She lifts her head. In the scant moonlight, she is difficult to see. I know she watches me as I slip to the other side of the wagon where Raph sleeps. He lies on his side with his back to me. He is a warrior, but I am stealthy, and I approach him without alerting him. Proud of my skill, I reach out to touch him, and my heart drops like a stone in water.

Raph has used my old trick. My hand connects with hard rock beneath his wool blanket.

If I am not for myself, who is for me? And being for my own self, what am I? If not now, when?

—Hillel,
Sayings of the Fathers

R
APH HAS LEFT US. CHIRAM
is a cook. I am a woman. What can we do against three armed, trained warriors of Babylonia?

What is the right question, Father? Asking this calms my mind enough to think. The right question is this: How can we survive? I do not relish seeing more death, but I am not prepared to see my own. And what would happen to Nami?

Yet what can I do? I have still not recovered from whatever Mika had me drink the night we sought heaven. I would not be of much use in a fight. The guards will return soon, and they will post a watch. Even if I could get to Chiram's pallet without notice and explain it all to him, how would we escape? There is river to our right and desert to the left. Our tracks would show in this soil, and the wind is still. No dust demons here. We would be found quickly.

What if we slipped into the river? I bite my lip. I have not the strength to fight the current, and Chiram cannot swim; he would never do that. I scowl. What good is he? Then I remember Chiram's deadly accuracy with his knives. At least we have that, but again, it does not seem a battle with much chance for winning.

So if we cannot flee or fight, what do we have to bargain our lives? They could simply take our silver, our donkey, and the camel. I consider trying to wake Chiram and explain why I need his silver. I cannot imagine his listening to me or giving it over, so I rise and do what I can.

W
HEN
I
RETURN
, I wake Chiram. We have a slim chance of cutting the sleeping guards' throats and perhaps Chiram's knives can take out the one standing watch. Chiram would want to fight. I believe that of him, at least. I kneel beside him and shake his shoulder. He wakes easily, despite the loud snores, and narrows his eyes at me. “What?”

“Quiet,” I whisper. “Listen to me.”

He sits up, hands going to the knives that stay tucked in his sash even when he sleeps. “What has happened?”

I have no chance to answer. A sound behind me makes me turn and when I turn back, sickle-curved swords prick both sides of Chiram's neck and then the small of my back.

“Where is the warrior, Raph, who traveled with us?”

At first I cannot speak. My chest is filling as it did when I ascended the steps of the goddess temple, but this time not in fear of love.

“He is gone,” I manage, concentrating on my breathing, remembering Mika's hand on my arm, his calm voice in my ear:
As contrary as it seems, you are getting too much air
. I slow my breath, forcing myself to ignore the demands of my lungs.
Trust me … I am a healer
.