Crown in the Stars

by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

  His obsidian black eyes glittering in his dusky face, Kuwsh muttered, “Where’s our Son of Heaven, Adoniyram?”

  Ra-Anan concealed a smile. “Probably planning a grand entrance.”

  “He should be flailed.”

  “So should his mother,” Ra-Anan whispered in agreement, “when it’s safe for us.”

  “I await the day. Usurpers! I should never have allowed you to convince me that they should live, much less have power.”

  “They are mere ornaments to please our people; you know that, my lord.”

  “Hah! By the way, I want to speak to you later.”

  What now? Ra-Anan wondered, smiling calmly, inwardly seething. “Of course.”

  Their furtive conversation ceased; Sharah had waved a troublesome petitioner toward them, saying sweetly, “We must be advised, for your sake, by our Priests of Shemesh.”

  Kuwsh stiffly deferred to Ra-Anan, who studied the rustic petitioner’s thin, jutting, bearded features.

  “What’s your name?” Ra-Anan asked.

  “Dayag,” the man snapped, glaring.

  Ra-Anan chose to ignore his lack of manners—the man was a nobody.

  “Present yourself at the tower steps this evening. We will consult then.”

  “As you say, Master.” The man bowed to Ra-Anan, distinctively hostile.

  Ra-Anan frowned, watching him move toward the gates. If the man caused trouble, he would be punished.

  Now raucous shouts, whistles, and laughter rose just outside the courtyard walls. Adoniyram.

  Ra-Anan peered through the open gates. The hostile petitioner dropped to his knees and bowed, outwardly humble, but deliberately blocking Adoniyram’s progress. Two spear-wielding guardsmen reached for the man but stopped, apparently ordered off by the Young Lord of the Great City.

  He’s accepting that Dayag’s petition! Ra-Anan guessed, furious.

  Everyone inside the courtyard paused and watched, futilely straining to hear the petitioner and Adoniyram’s response. But Ra-Anan knew without hearing a word; the troublemaker’s petition was granted. The man, Dayag, bowed again, then leapt to his feet and backed away, his thin, coarse face triumphant.

  Equally triumphant, Adoniyram paused just inside the gate. Though he was simply clothed in an unbleached linen tunic, a leather belt, and roughly laced boots, there was nothing plain about Adoniyram. His height, coppery skin, thick black curls, flagrant, sultry-lashed eyes, and wide, full mouth ensured that everyone in the courtyard, friend or enemy, noticed him.

  Smiling, he strode toward his mother and offered her a showy bow. Then he stepped onto the dais, kissed her cheek, and sat easily at her feet. Sharah gave him a smug, prideful look. Ra-Anan watched, nauseated.

  Beside Ra-Anan, Kuwsh hissed, “This is why I want to speak to you. He’s beginning to steal our power by granting favors. We have to rein him in.”

  “We’ll talk, my lord.”

  “Adoniyram.” Ra-Anan detained him just outside the gates.

  The Young Lord paused, courteous, but clearly impatient to return to his horse and his hunting.

  “Master-Uncle. How may I assist you?”

  “How may I assist you, Adoniyram? I have failed you in your training.”

  Adoniyram drew back, narrowing his eyes. “How have you failed me, Uncle?”

  Ra-Anan smiled, respecting the young man’s surprising instinctive caution; his mother had never been cautious in all her life. And, perhaps, neither had his father. “I have not given you the chance to formally act on behalf of your people. We must encourage your mother to give you a role in her courts instead of sitting idly at her feet. It would be beneficial if the citizens could observe the two of you working together.”

  “I’ve thought the same,” Adoniyram agreed genially. “But can she be persuaded to share her glory?”

  “For your sake, she must.” Ra-Anan watched his nephew’s reaction; he seemed interested. “It would be an offense against the heavens, Adoniyram, if your talents were squandered when they could be used to strengthen your kingdom.”

  “It’s not my kingdom, Master-Uncle.”

  “Because of you, it still exists,” Ra-Anan said carefully. “Your birth gave the citizens hope and unity after the death of the Great King, when everything could have crumbled into chaos. Your Lady-Mother has depended upon you, so why should she refuse your assistance now? We must speak with her.”

  “Without making her angry?” Adoniyram smiled. “Let me know if you or your priests can accomplish such a miracle, Master Ra-Anan; I long to witness it.”

  Smiling politely in turn, Ra-Anan asked, “What favor did that man, Dayag, ask of you at the gate?”

  “Your priests took his river lands, which adjoined the fields near the tower—something about creating another canal. I promised him new lands along the river.”

  “Do you have such lands to give him?”

  Charming and warm, Adoniyram said, “No, my own uncle. But you and your priests do; perhaps we can bargain together and agree on something. We are all reasonable men, and we can’t have rebellion among the citizens, can we?”

  “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-A
nan 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, afte
r she had laughed at his cherished horse. And he always insisted that his first childhood memory was of riding a horse with her.

  Leaning down again, he whispered, “Listen: I’ve decided that while you and Mithqah are visiting your cousins, I’ll persuade your parents to agree to our betrothal.”

  “I pray they will.” She felt herself blushing now, delighted by his audacity. How could she endure being separated from him for a year? But next month, she would depart with the Tribe of Metiyl after the tribal encampment. “I don’t want to leave you; I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  “Have you told your parents?”

  “No. They’d listen to me and keep me here—and I’d prefer it—but my cousins have been inviting me for years. I can’t disappoint them again.”

  Kaleb grimaced. “I know. And I suppose, as I’ma-Ritspah says, you should have some time to visit your relatives before we marry.” He gave her a teasing-burning look. “After that, I’ll keep you too busy.”

  Embarrassed, Shoshannah started to rub at a black handprint on Khiysh’s neck. Kal stopped her. “No, leave the handprints. I like them.”

  “Really?”

  “They’re perfect. Others will copy them from pure envy.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. “I doubt it. They’ll just wonder why you don’t clean your horse.” Her delight faded, and she looked up at him. “What else will you do while I’m gone?”

  “I’ll go mad,” he said, flippant.

  “No, be serious. What will you do?”

  “Seriously? I’m going to start building our lodge.”

  “Oh, Kal…” She almost looked over her shoulder to see if her father was still watching. “Don’t; it would look as though we’re rushing things. You should wait until my father formally declares our betrothal—and he probably won’t do that until I return. He’s liable to thrash you for being so bold.”

  “You’re worth the risk. Anyway, I’m so much bigger than he is now; he’d just swipe at me a bit. He knows I respect him.” More softly, Kal said, “Beloved, swear you’ll never stop tormenting me.”