Crown in the Stars (41 page)

“We’ll threaten you as much as you deserve,” the sly guardsman taunted, apparently feeling courageous now that Shem was unarmed. “Kneel and put your hands behind
your back. And call to those others to kneel and wait. Do it!”

Shem’s voice echoed to Keren and Zekaryah. “Kneel and wait; they won’t harm you.”

“We should obey,” Keren told Zekaryah softly, hugging his waist, feeling his tension, his readiness to fight for her. “Perhaps later we’ll have a chance to escape. Until then, we can hear about Shoshannah.”

Zekaryah’s voice lowered dangerously as they knelt together in the chill damp grass. “I knew we shouldn’t have allowed Echuwd to speak to his relatives during their last visit.”

It was the most logical explanation, Keren realized. When his relatives made their last visit to the Tribe of Metiyl, Yelahlah’s husband, Echuwd, must have persuaded them to betray Keren and Zekaryah.
Yelahlah
, she groaned silently to her niece,
what made you love such a man as Echuwd?

Obviously blaming himself, Zekaryah said, “We should have left immediately after they did.”

We would have been in the mountains by now. Farther away from Shoshannah
. Thinking of her firstborn, Keren tried to be hopeful. “Perhaps now that they have us, Shoshannah will be freed.”

Zekaryah remained stonily silent, watching the guardsman bind Shem’s hands. All at once, Keren heard her husband growl. “Ferret!”

Ferret Erek?
Surprised, she scanned the guardsmen who were now approaching, leading their horses and Father Shem and I’ma-Annah with them. One of the guardsmen
was indeed the ferretlike Erek, who had spied on her household during her years in the Great City. She also recognized two others: the arrogant Becay and Abdiy, who had always detested Zekaryah.

She held her husband fervently and kissed his neck, whispering, “I love you! Don’t let them provoke you to fight—we need you alive.”

“Move away from him!” Becay snarled at Keren, still gripping I’ma-Annah’s arm. To Zekaryah, he said, “Lift your hands and don’t move; it’s nothing to us if you die.”

Protected by the threatening Abdiy, Erek gleefully searched Zekaryah and tossed his weapons a safe distance away, then bound Zekaryah’s hands behind his back. Keren noticed that Erek didn’t dare to speak to Zekaryah directly.

After all these years, you’re still a sneaking little scoundrel, Erek
, she thought, repulsed.

He noticed her and said, “The ‘death order’ no longer applies to you,
Lady
, so don’t you threaten me now.”

Everything and everyone threatens you
, she reminded him in her thoughts.
You were never a true guardsman but always a

spy
.

Swaggering up to her, he sneered. “Do you have any weapons?”

Keren swiftly unlaced the knife pouch from her belt and tossed it at his feet. “I have that, but nothing else. My bow and arrows are on my horse.”

“As you say. Put your hands behind your back.” Erek tied Keren’s wrists together with cordage, then made her sit as he unlaced her boots and checked them. Keren submitted to his search quietly, aware of Zekaryah, who was smoldering, watching Erek’s every move, no doubt longing to kill him.

“Will you tie my hands too, children?” I’ma-Annah demanded, frowning at the way Erek was treating Keren.

Becay shook his head. “As I said, Ma’adannah, we have no quarrel with
you.”

“And as I said, Becay-child, you do have a quarrel with me.”

“Still, you are to be treated as our honored guest, unless you give us some reason to change our minds.”

“Beloved,” Shem urged I’ma-Annah tenderly, “don’t give them a reason, please. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that we’d rather not see you bound.”

Clearly frustrated, Annah gave her husband a reluctant nod. To Becay, she said, “Please, it’s obvious my Keren-child has no more weapons. May I help tie her boots?”

Becay released Annah, seeming satisfied now that Keren, Zekaryah, and Shem were all bound.

Annah gave Erek a vicious look and shoved the filled water skin into his hands. “Now,
you
, back away and don’t touch her again.” He obeyed.

Keren almost laughed at Annah’s boldness. “I’ma-Annah, now I see where my Shoshannah gets her willful nature—I’ve always blamed myself.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame for her. And for you.” Annah relaced Keren’s boots. “Come, child. Let me help you to your feet. This is going to be a dreadful journey.” Still fierce, she whispered to Keren, “I have my knife and my sewing blades; don’t give up hope yet!”

“You amaze me.”

That night, Shem stared at Annah, incredulous. “What? You still have your knife?”

“And my sewing blades,” Annah murmured into his ear. She rubbed his neck, back, and bound arms, which were aching. “Those overgrown children were afraid to search me. Do I dare cut you free?”

“Let’s wait and watch for a few days. We have to be sure we can also free Zekaryah and Keren; they are in more danger than we are.”

They looked across the searing, hissing flames of the hearth toward Zekaryah, who was also bound, and Keren, who was temporarily freed. Keren was coaxing her husband to drink some water; Zekaryah was grim, staring hard into the fire.

Shem continued, whispering, “Let’s consider the plans of the Most High.”

Less than a month before their High Day of Shemesh
, Shoshannah thought, sickened. Kneeling beside Demamah, she watched as Ra-Anan, Lord Kuwsh, and the priests sat nearby in the sunlight on the tower’s terrace, discussing their final plans for the celebrations. Adoniyram sat with them, unattended by Kaleb—to Shoshannah’s regret. She would have loved to see Kaleb instead of just listening as these proud men discussed water supplies, foods, the new cylindrical merchant seals, and the buildings and open spaces that were being cleared for the city’s expected guests.

“My four youngest sons have agreed to visit,” Lord Kuwsh was saying, as if he had granted a favor to the Great City. “As will the sons of my brothers.”

“All of the tribes will be represented,” Ra-Anan said pointedly. “Sons of Khawm, sons of Yepheth,
and
sons of Shem.”

All the rebellious ones who want to honor the death of that mighty hunter Nimr-Rada
, Shoshannah thought.

“Which sons of Shem?” Lord Kuwsh demanded, looking as if he smelled something rotten.

“Elam and Aram. Perhaps Lud and even Arpakshad.”

Kuwsh sneered. “Yes, let them come and bow to the memory of my son, who was butchered by their father!”

“Not all of them agreed with their Father Shem’s decision,” Ra-Anan said. “They will bring gifts.”

“Gifts for the temple will be appreciated,” the priest Rab-Mawg interposed smoothly, smiling. Shoshannah couldn’t remember the last time he had looked so clear-eyed and well rested this early in the morning. But his Master Ra-Anan and Lord Kuwsh didn’t seem to notice or appreciate the difference. They stared at him, offended.

But Adoniyram stared at Shoshannah, his gaze so concentrated, so compelling that she longed to hide.

Lord Kuwsh stood without acknowledging Rab-Mawg. “Now that we’ve discussed everything of importance, Ra-Anan, I must go; I’ll speak with you later.”

He inclined his head proudly to Ra-Anan. And he gave Shoshannah such a mistrustful glance that she bowed her head politely and didn’t look up again until he had departed with his servants.

The instant Kuwsh was gone, Ra-Anan berated Rab-Mawg. “Your foolishness and lack of discretion is becoming indefensible! One more such lapse, Rab-Mawg, and I will strip you of that leopard-skin mantle and give your place to someone else! Be content with the ordinary offerings of the people.”

Rab-Mawg lowered his head and didn’t reply, but he was tensed, livid.

Turning sharply, Ra-Anan snapped, “Demamah!
Shoshannah! We’re leaving. Rab-Mawg—and all of you—remember what I’ve said.” His pristine linen robes flaring, his fine sandals slapping hard on the bricks, Ra-Anan stomped toward the tower steps, followed by his guardsmen.

Shoshannah stood with Demamah and bowed to Adoniyram and to the offended priests, frightened, not daring to look at them. As she fled with her cousin, she heard Rab-Mawg snarl to Adoniyram, “So he gets the gold, and we get dirty peas and barley!”

My next few lessons are going to be horrible
, Shoshannah thought, despairing.
Rab-Mawg and the others will be furious for weeks
.

By the time she reached the tower courtyard, Ra-Anan was already mounted on the restless, perfectly groomed Khiysh—with Kaleb standing nearby, obviously pained, watching his cherished horse. Ra-Anan treated Khiysh with such flaunting arrogance and contempt that Shoshannah feared Kaleb would soon protest and be punished.

Kaleb saw Shoshannah now. A flicker of hurt and helplessness crossed his face, and he deliberately turned away as if he couldn’t bear to watch her leave.

Shoshannah wept quietly as they rode away from the tower and over the bridge above the sparkling canal.

“Why are you upset?” Demamah begged in a whisper. “Was it that awful Rab-Mawg?”

“I don’t want to face him anymore,” Shoshannah said, snatching at Rab-Mawg’s behavior as an excuse for her tears—he
was
partly to blame. She dabbed at her eyes, trying to compose herself before Ra-Anan or Perek noticed. “I don’t want to face anyone—I’m tired of it all! I just want my family.”

She was aware of someone riding close behind them now, a dark horse, tossing its head, full of high spirits. Tiyrac was there, riding his brazen Nashak. Unable to help herself, she stole a look at him, trying to comfort herself with the sight of a familiar face. He studied her, big, worried, and dear. If Kaleb couldn’t be here, then at least she had a dependable ally in his brother.

Shoshannah straightened, reassuring Demamah, “I’m fine; just homesick.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could know what it’s like to be homesick.”

“You don’t wish to be me.”

“I wouldn’t be as
rude
as you, but—”

Before Shoshannah could take refuge in a heartening quarrel with her cousin, a woman’s voice called out, “Lady!”

Shoshannah glanced to her right and saw a matron swathed in a flowing blue gown and red beads; she offered her infant to Shoshannah with a pleading smile. Remembering Ra-Anan’s lectures, Shoshannah halted her horse, flashed the eager mother a warm grin, and quickly turned to Tiyrac, saying, “Please, we need you to bring this child to Demamah—I’m not supposed to hold it myself.”

Tiyrac obligingly asked another guardsman to hold Nashak, then dismounted and hurried over to the woman, bowing to her politely before carrying the infant to Demamah. Shoshannah had to nudge her cousin hard; Demamah seemed overcome. Whether it was from the thought of holding a baby or the prospect of facing Tiyrac, Shoshannah couldn’t decide. But it was clear that Demamah had never held a baby before; she was wringing her hands, seeming afraid to touch the infant.