Crown in the Stars

by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

  “But she’s already said that she doesn’t want to go out onto the steppes alone,” Mithqah whispered, thinking aloud. “Perhaps I could bring help to her…”

  “You cannot bring her dear mother here,” Peletah said, agitated.

  Brisk tapping sounded at the door. Mithqah looked up, praying that it would be Shoshannah, freed and eager to return home.

  Instead, a tiny, engaging woman with bright dark eyes entered the home, led by the now-silent young craftsman who had been with Tso’bebaw and Peletah in the marketplace that morning.

  Mithqah slumped unhappily again. But Peletah sighed as if thankful. The newcomer immediately crossed over to the hearth to kneel beside Peletah.

  “Tell me everything,” she said, mournful.

  After hearing Peletah’s emotional, hand-fluttering explanation of the day’s events, the tiny, bright-eyed woman sighed and said to Yelahlah and Mithqah, “Your Shoshannah has more friends than you realize, my daughters. And if you do bring or send anyone to free her, then send them to me first—I am Meherah, wife of Yabal the potter. My son Lawkham was the Lady Keren’s guardsman, with my adoptive son, Zehker. They both loved her, and who could blame them? But tell me, do you have news of my Zehker? I’ve heard nothing of him since he took our Lady Keren from the Great City.”

  “Zehker?” Mithqah stared at Meherah, confused. Then she realized aloud, “He’s Zekaryah… tall and severe and the best in our tribe with horses and weapons.”

  “That must be my Zehker,” Meherah sighed, clasping her hands together, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “So he is well?”

  “He married I’ma-Keren,” Yelahlah breathed, delighted. “Shoshannah is his daughter. I was scared of him as a child—but he’s a good man. I’ma-Keren loves him.”

  Meherah beamed at her. “I hoped you could tell me something about him! I knew it wasn’t safe for him to come here or to send word after turning against the Great King, but… Oh, how my Lawkham would laugh to hear this news!”

  “But where is your Lawkham now?” Mithqah asked. She regretted the words at once; Peletah dabbed at her eyes, while Meherah’s smile faded.

  “You don’t know… The Great King killed my dear Lawkham when he accidentally touched our Lady Keren.”

  “Your son was the young man she still grieves for?” Mithqah asked, horrified. “I’ma-Keren told Shoshannah his story.”

  “Yes,” Meherah said gently. “The Lady Keren hasn’t forgotten him; I am glad. Others remember his death here, and they’ve blamed her. But it was that Nimr-Rada; he threw the spear that killed my Lawkham! Our Lady Keren—and my Zehker—retrieved his body from the river for my sake. They risked their lives to honor him, I will always be grateful for that.” Her eyes brightened again. “So Shoshannah is the daughter of my Zehker and his Keren? Then she’s my granddaughter! We will help her in every way we can, won’t we, my Ezriy?”

  The young craftsman, seated just behind her, nodded. His eyes were as bright as his mother’s. “Of course we will, I’ma.”

  “But Shoshannah won’t want you to put yourselves in danger for her sake,” Mithqah objected.

  “Oh, we will be careful,” Meherah promised.

  Grateful, Mithqah murmured, “May the Most High bless you for caring.”

  “He has, child.”

  They talked quietly for the remainder of the evening. Mithqah was c

  omforted enough to eat, then to fall asleep. If she had to leave Shoshannah here—at least for a while—then it was good to know that Meherah, Tso’bebaw, and Peletah were here as friends. If only Shoshannah could know it; she might feel better.

  Protect her, O Most High.

  Six

  “THEY ARE WAITING for you,” Demamah told Shoshannah, toneless, not looking at her in the flickering lamplight.

  She’s been sent like a servant, Shoshannah thought, pitying the girl yet again. She rose from the fleece-padded bed in the comfortable little sleeping room where she had been instructed to wait until the others had eaten. Shoshannah was certain they had neglected her during the meal to emphasize that she was not a welcomed guest in their home; she was an enemy.

  “Wait,” Demamah said, as they were about to leave the room. She looked at Shoshannah now, fearful. “I beg you, Cousin, for the sake of peace… when we enter into the presence of the Lady Sharah and her son and the Lord Kuwsh, you must fold your hands before you and bow politely. Like this.” She demonstrated an elegant bow, her straight black hair gleaming in the lamplight.

  “For the sake of peace? Are they being more quarrelsome now than they were this afternoon?”

  Demamah’s luminous, long-lashed eyes widened. “No, but wasn’t this afternoon horrible enough? I’d think you would want to avoid another slap from Perek.”

  “I think you’re right.” Another thought occurred to Shoshannah. “So the Lady Sharah has a son here? My I’ma never mentioned him.”

  “He is Adoniyram. You saw him today, seated near his mother. Sometimes you will hear people call him Son of Heaven. He was born after the Lady Keren left the Great City. After the death of He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies.”

  “Why should they call him ‘Son of Heaven,’ or Lady Sharah ‘Queen of the Heavens,’ when they are ordinary people?”

  “Because the people believe that the Lady Sharah is their Protectoress, and that Adoniyram is the Promised One who will restore us all to the perfection that existed when the earth began.” Nervously Demamah changed the subject. “We must go. Please, say as little as possible. Perhaps they’ll become tired of questioning you if you’re dull.”

  “Do you think I can be dull?” Shoshannah pretended to be concerned.

  Demamah eyed her seriously. “I don’t know. But you should try.”

  “You don’t joke much, do you?”

  Hesitant, Demamah said, “This is a very formal household. My parents are… important.”

  “For your sake, I wish they weren’t,” Shoshannah said, making a face.

  Demamah gave her a weak smile. “They’re waiting.”

  I think you’re not my enemy at all, Shoshannah thought, satisfied. “I give you my word, Cousin, I’ll be as dull as possible.”

  Demamah led Shoshannah from the hushed sleeping room into a narrow, lamplit passage. To their left, a reed doorway stood partly open with a tempting starlit view of a small private courtyard, with its own tree and a garden, which softened the edges of an enclosing mud-brick wall. Shoshannah longed to run outside, but Demamah hastened onward through the dim passage. At the end of the passage was a thickly layered, sound-muffling curtain. Pushing it aside, Demamah led Shoshannah into the huge, mural-painted main room.

  Shoshannah fixed her gaze on the braided grass floor mats, but she was aware of Demamah’s every move. When her cousin executed a perfect formal bow, Shoshannah copied her. And when Demamah knelt, swiftly smoothing her skirts beneath her knees with a fluid motion, Shoshannah did the same. She could feel all her aching, pulled muscles complaining. She could also feel everyone staring at her. Unwilling to look at them, she studied a collection of copper trays before her, littered with delicate crusts, bones, herb-flecked pools of oil, and fruit pits—the remains of their evening meal. Not tempting enough to make her wish she’d been invited.

  “At least she’s clean now,” the Lady Sharah observed tartly.

  I was traveling, Great Lady, Shoshannah thought. Let me see you travel with no servants and remain clean, sweet smelling, and lovely. But even as she thought this, Shoshannah chided herself. Be careful; don’t let them make you angry. Perek is eager to slap you again.

  “Look at me,” Ra-Anan commanded. Shoshannah looked warily.

  He stared at her hard, suspicious, as if cutting her to pieces in his mind. At last he sat back and said, “Zehker.”

  Zehker? Shoshannah frowned. What was he talking about?

  “He’s her father,” Ra-Anan said to the others. “She may look like her mother, but her expression just now was his. He was my student for year
s, and he was Keren’s guardsman. According to witnesses, he aided Keren in her conspiracy against the Great King. He’s the obvious choice.”

  “That awful wooden-faced Zehker!” Sharah exclaimed, making Shoshannah glance at her. The Queen of the Heavens scowled, her face freakishly pale and malicious. “He hated Keren at one time, I assure you.”

  “I never trusted him,” Kuwsh said decisively, setting his cup on a tray.

  Zehker. Zekaryah. Father, did you change your name? Shoshannah felt ill. And angry. Clearly, her parents would be killed if they were ever caught in the Great City. She looked down at her hands, folded tightly in her lap. I won’t talk about I’ma and Father with them. I won’t!

  “I’ve guessed the truth, haven’t I?” Ra-Anan asked, so smug that Shoshannah seethed.

  “Does my father’s name matter? If I’m going to die anyway—”

  “Cooperate, and you’ll live,” Kuwsh said, as if granting a favor. “We want your mother, not you.”

  “Why do you want to kill her, when you know she was only defending herself and her family against your Great-King son? Your generation might outlive hers anyway! And she will outlive me, no matter what, so I—”

  “Stop!” Ra-Anan glared at her forbiddingly as his wife, Zeva’ah, sucked in a breath and glanced at their daughter. Demamah stared at Shoshannah, clearly bewildered.

  The young Adoniyram leaned forward, shaking his head as if he hadn’t understood. “What do you mean?”

  He doesn’t know, Shoshannah realized. But he should. She blurted out, “Our First Father Shem and all the northern tribal leaders have agreed that the younger generations are aging faster than their parents. We’ll die before they do.”

  “Ignore her,” Zeva’ah said coldly, recovering. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

  “You’re a little tale-bearing traitor, like your mother!” Sharah accused.

  Shoshannah stiffened. “My mother never betrayed you as you betrayed her, and you know it!”

  Outraged, Sharah clawed toward Shoshannah. Her son restrained her, appealing, “Mother, be careful; she’s half wild.” But Adoniyram scowled at Shoshannah as if he wanted to slap her himself.

  The Lady Achlai, who had been silent, kneeling beside her husband, said weakly, “The child is telling the truth.”

  “She’s not!” Sharah cried.

  “This is nothing but a rumor spread by our enemies to create chaos for us,” Ra-Anan said to Demamah and Adoniyram. “If I had thought it was the truth, I would have told you before.” He stared at Shoshannah fear-somely. “You will never speak of this again, or you will be punished as others have been. I will not have turmoil in these lands because of a tale spread by a foolish girl.”

  Shoshannah complied, bowing her head. I wish you were right, but I fear you are lying to them, and to yourself.

  “We should have Perek beat you bloody!” Sharah said, apparently still furious that Shoshannah had dared to reprimand her. But before she could insist that Shoshannah be punished, Adoniyram stood.

  “Mother, let’s leave this place now.”

  Brooding, Adoniyram sat on a darkened terrace of the tower. Beside him, Rab-Mawg pretended to analyze the stars, but Adoniyram knew better; the priest’s eyes were flickering here and there, agitated in the torchlight.

  “Say it!” Adoniyram snapped, losing his much-practiced caution. “Do you think she’s right? Will those two outlive me?”

  “I’ve heard this rumor before, and I believe it’s false,” Rab-Mawg answered stiffly. “But she obviously believes it. Or else she is making trouble.”

  Adoniyram calmed himself, reasoning aloud. “We should try to learn the truth about this story. She apparently heard it from those Ancient Ones. And I don’t believe she’s a deliberate troublemaker—she’s in enough trouble now without making more for herself. Anyway, what would she gain by spreading such a rumor if it’s false? And if it’s true… her own years will also be shortened; she is of our generation.” Quietly, he added, “Perhaps that’s why I prevented my mother from attacking her.”

  Sharah had stormed and screamed and thrown dishes as soon as she reached the privacy of her own residence. All her rage had been directed at Shoshannah for being like her mother, Keren, who stupidly trusted those old storytelling Ancient Ones in the mountains. Worse, the girl had dared to voice a truth that the Queen of the Heavens didn’t want to accept.

  My mother never betrayed you as you betrayed her, and you know it!

  Shoshannah’s words also implied knowledge of the past that Adoniyram didn’t have. What did she know about his mother?

  “I say she’s dangerous,” Rab-Mawg declared. “If she’s been in our Great City for less than a day and already created such furor, what else might she do?”

  “What else indeed?”

  “And,” Rab-Mawg’s voice rose vehemently, as if coercing Adoniyram to accept his opinion, “you won’t be able to prevent someone from killing her eventually. If you decide what should be done with her, my lord, I will assist you in whatever way I can.”

  “Thank you, Rab-Mawg.”

  What should happen to this Shoshannah? Adoniyram wondered. She was too straightforward. And evidently honorable. Combined, the traits could be ruinous. That, added to her looks—which were extraordinary now that she was clothed in a civilized manner—made her thoroughly unsettling. Might she be the tool he needed to pry those two vultures from their lofty perches? And to counteract his mother’s influence within the kingdom?

  Mother, he fumed, you didn’t even consider that, if what this girl says is true, you will live to see my death. Your thoughts were all centered upon how offensive she was toward you. Am I worth so little to you?

  He knew the answer but pushed it away.

  As soon as Adoniyram had departed, Rab-Mawg hurried inside the tower’s chilly, gold-decked, half-built temple, which was lit by lamps and a hearth and guarded by his own followers—his three fellow priests of Shemesh. They eyed him as they finished their evening meal. All three were thin, black eyed, bald shaven, trustworthy, and devout as he was, clad in pale woolen robes and sandals. And like Rab-Mawg, they despised the arrogant Ra-Anan, the worthless, temperamental Lord Kuwsh, and his equally worthless and temperamental daughter-in-law, the Lady Sharah. They longed for Adoniyram to take hold of the kingdom.

  “Listen,” Rab-Mawg said darkly, knowing they would hate his news. “Don’t repeat this to anyone: We have a potential adversary…”

  Shoshannah hadn’t realized that the comfortable little sleeping room was Demamah’s own room. As the servants brought heaps of straw, furs, and coverlets for Shoshannah’s bed, she realized that Ra-Anan and his wife intended for her to stay with Demamah, at least for tonight. The thought both consoled and worried her.

  While they were combing their hair and preparing for sleep, Demamah was silent. But she cast a wounded look at Shoshannah, which made Shoshannah feel like a traitor.

  Clearing her throat meekly, she said, “I’m sorry. You trusted me, but I hurt you the instant I started talking. Forgive me. I should have kept quiet.”

  Demamah nodded. After a time, she said, “Were you lying?”

  Reluctantly Shoshannah shook her head. “No. Our tribal leaders say it’s probably true. And I watched our First Father Shem and our I’ma-Annah together with my parents and grandparents. The differences between their generations are obvious.”

  Demamah settled onto her low, fleece-covered bed, staring upward at the roof beams. Shoshannah adjusted her makeshift bed, smoothing the light woolen coverlet, then flopping back limply to also gaze at the roof.

  In a tiny voice, Demamah said, “If it’s true, then it’s unfair.”

  “I’ve thought the same thing countless times. And I’ve wondered if, perhaps, it’s because of this new earth. Our ancient I’ma-Naomi has said that the earth was more welcoming and easier to live in before the Great Destruction.”

  Now Demamah looked at her, troubled. “Do you believe her
? Some say the Great Flood is just a story.”

  “It’s not,” Shoshannah said stoutly. She turned on her side to face her cousin. “I’ve seen the pen, the huge boat they lived in with all the animals. It’s wonderful and frightening. I’ve walked through it. Not only that, but if you could meet our Ancient Ones, Noakh and I’ma-Naomi, and our First Father Shem and his I’ma-Annah, you’d know they were telling the truth.” Angrily she added, “How could anyone doubt them?”

  “You love them,” Demamah observed, sounding wistful.

  Something about her voice made Shoshannah stare at her. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “You aren’t happy with your life here, are you?”

  It was a long time before Demamah answered. “I think I should be more upset by what you’ve said tonight. But if the remainder of my life is the same as its beginning, then I really don’t care how long I live… or don’t live.”

  As Shoshannah gaped at her, Demamah whispered, “I haven’t been truly happy since your mother left me. When she was here, though I was just a little girl, I knew I was loved.”

  “What do you intend for her, Master-Uncle?” Adoniyram asked quietly, as he rode out to the tower with Ra-Anan the next morning. Their retinues of servants and guardsmen clattered behind.

  “Whatever is most useful for the kingdom—that is what we should intend for her,” Ra-Anan murmured, his dark, hooded eyes revealing nothing.

  Adoniyram noticed the meaningless polite “we” and the vague explanation. Determined, he said, “Our Lord Kuwsh sees her only as bait for his prey—the Lady Keren.”

  “It’s natural that he does.” A brief flicker of distaste passed over Ra-Anan’s face at the mention of Kuwsh.

  Pleased, Adoniyram said, “I wonder what the Lady Keren’s role in this kingdom would have been if she hadn’t betrayed my father.”

  “She gave her oath to be the Protectoress of the Tower: the most revered servant of Shemesh. She would have received sacrifices and offerings from the people.”