Crown in the Stars

by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

  I wish you were Ma’khole, she thought, tremulous, wishing she could bid the little mare good-bye. Swiftly, fearing she might awaken the guards, she tied her weapons and few belongings across the horse’s sand-pale withers, took a small running start, grasped the mane, and bounded onto its back. She struggled to seat herself, grateful the creature hadn’t jolted away beneath her—she was out of practice. But he was well trained. Catching her breath, she guided the horse behind Ra-Anan’s residence to avoid the busiest streets and rode south out of the Great City. Shortly afterward, she urged the animal east, away from the boggy, rain-swollen southern marshes. And for the first time in her life, she hated a beautiful sunrise.

  Furious, Ra-Anan grabbed the broken leather cord from the ground. Pointing to its match dangling from the tree near the wall, he confronted his shocked guardsmen. “Look at this! You saw nothing? You heard nothing? If you don’t find her now, you’ll see and hear nothing permanently!”

  The guardsmen fled, seeking their horses. Perek approached, planted himself in front of Ra-Anan, and bowed. “I beg you, Master Ra-Anan, let me hunt her down.”

  Ra-Anan waved him on impatiently. Perek snatched his gear, whistled for his horse, and rode out after the other guardsmen, who were scattering in confusion.

  Aggravated by their chaotic departure, Ra-Anan headed for the stables. He’d find the girl himself. A stable guard greeted him weakly, saying, “My lord, your horse is gone.”

  Fool. Disbelieving, Ra-Anan strode into the stable and glanced to the left where his best horse should have been, at an empty stall. He struck the guard to the ground. “In my sleep, from behind a brick wall, I heard someone riding a horse past my residence! But you didn’t hear someone stealing a horse from beneath your nose! Were you drunk? Get away from me before I kill you!”

  While he was fuming, someone rode up outside the stables. Thinking they had caught Shoshannah, Ra-Anan hurried outside. Adoniyram and his three guardsmen looked down at him from their horses, perplexed. For the past week, Adoniyram had visited almost every morning, and Ra-Anan had welcomed him. But now, Ra-Anan stared up at his nephew, disgruntled. “Don’t you have a residence of your own?”

  Obviously restraining a smile, Adoniyram said, “I do, Master-Uncle, but clearly, it’s not as exciting as your own. What’s happened?”

  Ra-Anan enunciated his words carefully, so he wouldn’t stammer in his fury. “Your ungrateful cousin stole my best horse and escaped. Alone.”

  “So that’s why Perek and the others were riding off in such a hurry.” Swiftly, Adoniyram inclined his head. “If you don’t mind, Uncle, I’ll join the chase.”

  Before Ra-Anan could say another word, Adoniyram goaded his horse away, followed by his guardsmen, all of them eager for this unexpected adventure. Ra-Anan watched them head north onto the main street, then returned to his house. There was no need for him to pursue Shoshannah; there were enough guardsmen after her. Instead, he would question Demamah, who had—reluctantly, he suspected—alerted him that Shoshannah was gone.

  Shoshannah rode northeast, intending to find and follow the eastern river—her most trustworthy guide back to the Tribe of Metiyl. She wished she hadn’t been forced to travel south from the Great City to avoid people during her escape; the maneuver had cost her precious time. And she half wished she had chosen another horse. This one made her uneasy. He was resisting her commands, testing her, and slowing her down, she realized, according to his own clever nature. If only she knew exactly how he had been trained; then he might behave.

  But I don’t have time to learn your ways, she thought to the horse. Determined, she urged him onward, praying the creature wouldn’t have a tantrum because she wasn’t commanding him as he expected. When they reached a long muddied canal, the horse balked at the water’s edge.

  Twice it swerved from the canal. Twice Shoshannah turned its head toward the water, prodding it forward with her heels and chirruping resolutely. The creature stopped altogether, obstinate, making noises of protest. Soon it would try to throw her off, or bolt away.

  What’s wrong? she asked him silently. I’m sure you must cross these canals all the time. However, the large canal near the tower had a bridge…

  “You want a bridge,” she realized aloud, disheartened. A bridge wasn’t possible. And the longer she stayed here, trying to urge this creature across the canal, the more certain she was to be caught. Trying to conceal her desperation from the intuitive horse, she sat quietly and looked around. Where was the end of this canal? Perhaps she could ride along it to the eastern river and follow the river north to the mountains. She could find tribes of cousins to help her along the way. But she would encounter other canals and streams, too, along the way… This horse had to learn to obey her quickly.

  Don’t let a horse rule you. She could almost hear her father saying those words.

  “It’s only water,” she murmured, sliding off the horse, stepping into the mud, determined to win the creature over. Holding the reins, she removed several dates from her battered leather pack, glided one past the animal’s nose, and cautiously stepped into the silted water. Clearly tempted, the horse stepped after her.

  While she was coaxing it into the canal, a piercing note from a carved whistle echoed distantly through the air, making the animal perk up its sand-pale ears, listening. The note was repeated, followed by the sounds of hoofbeats. The horse huffed and backed away nervously. Alarmed, Shoshannah hurried out of the water to remount the beast, but it bolted toward the call of the whistle and the other horses—like the trained herd creature he was—with her weapons and her gear.

  Shoshannah threw down the fruit, longing to scream. Particularly when she realized that Perek was riding toward her like a wild man, well ahead of the other horsemen. In addition to the horse whistle corded around his neck, the guard had a spear. Horrified, praying that the canal would at least slow down his horse, she fled into the water, hindered by the thick silt.

  A thunderous splash roiled the water behind her. An instant later, Perek flung himself off his horse, clamped an arm around Shoshannah, dragged her thrashing out of the water, and shoved her face into the embankment. Panicking, breathing sodden earth, Shoshannah tried to see through her disheveled hair. Perek twisted her wrist high into her back until she cried in protest. Then he beat her with his spear, raining brutal, cutting blows on her back, her rump, and her legs, making her scream with pain as she tried to squirm away.

  Something heavy crashed over her, knocking her in the ribs. Perek roared as another weight followed the first. Shoshannah gasped as she was dragged by the wrist through the mud. She fought and kicked, unable to wriggle free. Someone was beside her now, clawing at her wrist, hammering at Perek’s arm, bellowing, “Let go! Perek, let go! Get him away before he kills her!”

  Mercifully, Shoshannah felt Perek’s grip on her wrist vanish. She was hauled to her feet and saw—through her muddied hair—three guardsmen brawling in the silt, enthusiastically subduing the raging Perek. A man’s hand pushed Shoshannah’s hair out of her face and forced her to look up.

  Adoniyram scowled down at her. “Why would you even think of traveling alone? Are you so eager to die?”

  Fighting tears, resentful that she’d been caught, she said, “I’m more likely to survive in the wilderness with true animals.”

  “Not when Perek is after you. And not when you’ve stolen our Master Ra-Anan’s favorite horse.”

  “Ra-Anan’s horse?” Shoshannah’s knees wobbled.

  “He will probably beat you himself,” Adoniyram said, looking around, as if judging their situation. “I think we should return through the least populated area. After thrashing around in the mud, we look like laborers.”

  I’d rather be a laborer now. Sick with dread, and moving painfully, Shoshannah let him help her onto a horse, while the three guardsmen finished their muddy brawl with Perek.

  Ra-Anan was waiting in his courtyard. The instant he saw Shoshannah, he pointed to the paving, commanding h
er to kneel on the bricks before him. Gritting her teeth against the torments from her wounds, she knelt slowly, cautiously, afraid he would kill her right there.

  Ra-Anan raged, “Look at you—you’ve disgraced us! And look at these men.” He gestured emphatically.

  Shoshannah looked.

  Perek and the three guardsmen were crusted with drying mud, wherever their swollen eyes, split lips, and battered noses weren’t bloodied. Perek had twisted a supportive band of leather around his right wrist—which was apparently injured—and he glared at Shoshannah through his unscathed left eye; the right one was purpled and swelling shut. Shoshannah winced. He was obviously wishing he had killed her.

  Ra-Anan continued to rant at her, his narrow, smooth brown face contorted. “If these men don’t heal properly, I won’t spare you—do you hear me? You will be severely punished.”

  Shoshannah looked down, feeling as if she’d been punished already. Her own wrist was sprained, her ribs hurt where she had been kicked, and every place Perek had beaten her burned and pulsed with pain. Her linen garments were also sticking torturously to the bloodied cuts on her back.

  “Did you injure my horse?” Ra-Anan demanded.

  “No.” She barely squeaked out that one word.

  “Pray that you’re right, child,” Ra-Anan snapped. “If my horse is harmed, I’ll beat you for that too. You are as impulsive and foolish as your mother. What excuse can you possibly give for such stupidity—thinking you could escape? Answer me!”

  Stiffening at the insult to her mother, Shoshannah took courage. “I only did what you would have done in my place, Uncle—as my mother did—though I failed.”

  He lowered his chin at her, staring coldly. Then he called out, “Bring her weapons and belongings here.”

  A guardsman obeyed swiftly, placing Shoshannah’s bow, her quiver of arrows, and her battered leather pack beside Ra-Anan. Scornful, he untied the pack and dumped Shoshannah’s gear onto the bricks. All her belongings spilled out: her cloak, tunic, leggings, undergarments, pins, combs, lacings, tiny wooden ointment pots, pilfered food, and her treasured knife, which she had thought would be safer in her pack. Her uncle snatched the knife. “Where did you get this? Did your father make it for you?”

  Shoshannah stared at him, mute. Her father had indeed made the knife. Kaleb had carved her combs and ointment pots, her I’ma had taught her to make all the garments, and, of course, her cloak and pins had been created by I’ma-Annah, I’ma-Chaciydah, and I’ma-Naomi. Everything heaped before her was very ordinary, and precious.

  “You stole food from my house.”

  As you would have done, I’m sure, she answered silently.

  “You stole my best horse. You’ve treated my protection of you with contempt. Such contempt should be repaid.”

  Distraught, she watched her uncle send for a brazier and torches. As she feared, he set her belongings ablaze—but not before Adoniyram stepped forward and claimed her knife, bow, and quiver of arrows, saying, “These are mine; I returned her to you.”

  Ra-Anan grudgingly allowed Adoniyram to claim the weapons. As the remainder of her possessions smoldered, smoked, and finally caught fire, Ra-Anan asked loudly, scornfully, “Why didn’t your Most High save you?”

  Watching her cherished possessions burn, Shoshannah swallowed hard, wiping away tears, asking Him the same question. Why?

  After a merciless scrubbing beneath Zeva’ah’s unforgiving hands, Shoshannah limped, under escort, to Demamah’s room. When the door was closed and barred—and undoubtedly guarded—Demamah looked up at Shoshannah from a corner where she was huddled like a terrified child.

  Her lovely dark eyes red from weeping, Demamah whispered, “You’re alive… but why didn’t you tell me what you were planning?”

  “Because you would have had to tell your father.”

  “Yes, but I would have also begged you to stay; it wasn’t worth the risk.”

  Thinking of her burned possessions—and Ra-Anan’s derision—Shoshannah nodded, humiliated. Struggling for composure, she said, “You’re being punished because I escaped. I’m sorry.”

  Demamah trembled. “I hoped I was too old for a beating… but I suppose I wasn’t.” Her voice shook as she continued, “They chopped down my tr-tree.”

  Shoshannah closed her eyes, picturing the beautiful tree in Demamah’s courtyard, hacked to bits merely because she had climbed it this morning. It had been Demamah’s favorite place to rest on hot days—destroyed now. Because of me. She sank to her knees beside her cousin, feeling wretched inside and out, trying to endure the pain. “I’ve been nothing but trouble to you.” “You can’t help it.”

  Demamah was serious. Shoshannah stared at her, longing to laugh. Instead, she cried. Demamah touched her arm and whispered tearfully, “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

  “You should have let her die!” Sharah snapped, glaring at Adoniyram in the privacy of her ornate bedchamber. “She’s a threat to you—did you think of that? No!”

  Adoniyram stared at his painted, gold-ornamented, linen-robed mother, barely able to contain his disgust. “She’s no threat to me. And she’s your own niece; how can you wish death on her so easily?”

  “Because she’s like her mother; she will divide this kingdom. I heard how she was admired the other day, riding through the marketplace with you. That was stupid of you, Adoniyram! They loved her; she’s going to destroy everything if we don’t stop her.”

  “Perhaps I should have let her go.”

  “You should have killed her!”

  “She doesn’t deserve to die,” Adoniyram argued. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

  “You’re protecting her—you’re turning against me!”

  “You’re turning everyone against you!” he snapped, his patience worn. “You’re so jealous and—”

  She lunged, clawing at him like a maddened thing. Adoniyram grabbed her wrists, but not before she managed to rake him with her nails. He held her at arm’s length, forcing himself to apologize so she would calm down… so they would both calm down. “I am sorry; I was wrong to say that—you’re right, she is a danger.”

  “And you’re an ungrateful fool!” Sharah kicked at him, still angry. “You never listen to me!”

  “I’m listening to you now, Mother.” He lowered his voice. “And so are all the servants. They are going to tell Lord Kuwsh and Master Ra-Anan what we’ve—”

  “Those two!” Diverted, her voice laden with scorn, Sharah said fiercely, “They’ve made such uproars among the people that if it weren’t for my settling everything down for them and convincing the people that they’re loved, we’d have no kingdom to rule. There would have been a rebellion long ago. And, believe me, Shoshannah could also create a rebellion—she has to be stopped.”

  “What do you suggest?” Adoniyram asked, quietly prodding her in the direction he wanted her to go. “Ra-Anan will have her under constant guard now. And when Lord Kuwsh hears of her escape, he will also have his say.”

  “And I will have mine! Kuwsh is nothing.”

  “He’s my father’s father,” Adoniyram reminded her softly, firmly.

  A spiteful expression flickered across her face, as if she’d almost said something to the contrary. It was a fleeting look, but enough to make Adoniyram wonder. He released her and hastily buried his suspicions.

  “As I said, Kuwsh is nothing.” His mother moved away, defiant as an overindulged child, tossing her pale curls.

  Adoniyram hated that gesture. He wished, as always, that she would braid and pin her hair decently like any other matron of the Great City. But he could wish that she would do—or become—countless other things, yet nothing would ever change her. She was utterly self-absorbed.

  Preening, she picked up an obsidian mirror and checked her face paints and hair, as if her tantrum had never happened—which was also her way. Sighing irritably, she said, “Have one of the servants take word to Ra-Anan that I will visit his household tonight. I expect to see our dea
r Shoshannah too. And send word to Kuwsh as well. We should visit together this evening… as a family.”

  Adoniyram wished it could be true. His jaw and throat were stinging; he would have to see if she had left marks on him. If so, then he wouldn’t show himself to the citizens in the daylight until he was healed. They could not be allowed to see him as an ordinary man. Such a Promised One I am …

  Holding her sprained wrist protectively, Shoshannah knelt on a cushioned mat beside Demamah, formal and miserable. This unexpected gathering was going to be awful. There was no food to soothe anyone’s appetite, but the Queen-of-the-Heavens Sharah was drinking wine, as was Lord Kuwsh, while Adoniyram, the Lady Achlai, Ra-Anan, and Zeva’ah simply stared at Shoshannah. At least the servants had all been sent away. They wouldn’t witness the quarrel that was sure to erupt in the tense, silent room.

  Sharah started, accusing Shoshannah, “I see you’ve been injured. It’s no more than you deserve. My son shouldn’t have saved you—you weren’t even thankful.” To the others, she said, “Did you see what she did? Look at his face.”

  Shoshannah looked at Adoniyram’s face and was shocked by the livid scratches on his jaw and neck that definitely hadn’t been there that morning. He gave her a warning glance. If anyone gave him those scratches, it was you, Spoiled Lady, she thought, indignant.

  To her surprise, Ra-Anan said, “Adoniyram had no scratches on his face when he returned the girl to us this morning. He must have gotten them somewhere else.”

  Sharah leaned forward, her gray eyes narrowed. “Are you saying I am mistaken?”

  “You have been before,” Ra-Anan said, obviously not caring to be polite. “Most of the time, in fact.”