To excuse herself for looking at Tiyrac and Kal, she said, “I think they’re trying to decide what to do if Adoniyram’s leopards attack anyone.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
By now, Ra-Anan’s voice was rising as he spoke to the unwillingly attentive merchants. “This year we will have more visitors than ever before to our Great City. You will have more opportunities for trade, and we will all gain if we are prepared to receive them as honored guests. We expect your assistance in building temporary residences to shelter our visitors…”
The High Month of Shemesh. Thinking of it, Shoshannah’s stomach tightened. Surely her uncle wouldn’t expect her to take part in any of the temple ceremonies, knowing she worshiped the Most High and considered their Shemesh to be a god of their own making.
Their festival is almost four months away, she reassured herself. I don’t have to worry about it yet. To calm herself, she gazed at Kaleb again, grateful for the sight of him standing there with Tiyrac, safe and well. For now.
Let us escape soon, she begged the Most High. Fearing Demamah had noticed her, Shoshannah glanced at her cousin. Demamah hastily looked down at the combs and wool, away from Tiyrac.
Kneeling on a mat in the temple with Ormah, Shoshannah watched, fascinated, as the priest Ebed rolled a carved stone tube over a soft pat of clay. A fragile picture trail of streams, fish, and rays of sunlight revealed the path of the moving tube. She smiled, delighted. “Ebed, how wonderful! Please, may I see the stone? I’ll be careful, I give you my word.”
Seeming gratified, Ebed bowed his shaven head and offered the pat of clay and the carved tube to Shoshannah. “Test the marker for yourself, Lady. This was our Master Rab-Mawg’s inspiration. Eventually each merchant in the city, and every priest and official, will have his own special marker, carved in his own particular pattern to seal the tokens of his agreements.”
Knowing that Ormah would want to inspect this new type of “marker,” as Ebed had called it, Shoshannah gently set it between them. She studied the carved stone, rolled it over the clay, then handed it to Ormah.
As Shoshannah hoped, the maidservant abandoned her usual haughtiness, eagerly applying the stone to the clay. Shoshannah smiled, contented. When Ormah was happy, she was less inclined to exaggerate stories of Shoshannah’s misbehavior to Ra-Anan. And the last thing Shoshannah wanted now was to make Ra-Anan more upset with her.
“Are you playing, children?” Awkawn asked, sweeping past the curtain into the temple from behind the hidden room. He threw a belittling glance at Ormah, who frowned.
Reluctant to acknowledge this rude priest, Shoshannah lowered her head and said nothing.
Awkawn planted his bare bony feet directly in front of her. “Rab-Mawg summons you now; you shouldn’t linger here unless you’re worshiping our Shemesh, O Daughter of Keren.”
Shoshannah stood, agitated by his taunt. Had he been talking about her with Rab-Mawg? Slowly she smoothed her garments and walked past the curtains to the hidden room to face Rab-Mawg.
He was waiting, alert but not wild-eyed. And there was no knife in his hand. Grateful for this small mercy, Shoshannah knelt in her accustomed place, with Ormah beside her. The maidservant cleared her throat nervously.
Rab-Mawg gave her a sharp, quelling look, then turned to Shoshannah. His voice stiff, almost clipped, he lectured, “As you are aware, Lady, we will soon celebrate the High Month of our Shemesh.”
Shoshannah nodded, not liking his topic.
He returned her look, clearly not liking his student. “You must begin to learn those duties abandoned by your mother.”
“My uncle has given you instructions…” Shoshannah murmured, allowing her words to trail off, not quite questioning him.
“Yes, he has. But even if he hadn’t, I would insist that you fulfill your obligations.”
Shoshannah listened, nausea twisting her stomach. She tried to remain expressionless, but the priest stared at her so hard and for such a long time that she began to fidget.
At last he said, “You will have to convince me that you deserve this honor—and the power you will possess. I give you one year.” He leaned forward, until she could almost feel his breath in her face. His eyes glittered sharply, as if he dared her to deny what he was about to say. “I know you still believe what those Ancient Ones taught you, and you are contemptuous of our ways—I’ve been watching you! But I’m telling you now that you will abandon those old beliefs. You will faithfully receive offerings and require devotions in this temple. You will become the wife of Shemesh, and you will proclaim his greatness to our people. You have one year.”
One year? Then what would happen, if she failed to convince him that she “deserved this honor”? Was he already planning her death? So much for his insistence that she must be convinced she was safe here.
Rab-Mawg continued his lecturing. “Master Ra-Anan and I have decided, too, that our tower is unfinished.”
You and Ra-Anan and all the other greedy fools in this rebellious
city.
“We intend to continue building until this structure reaches the heavens, until it stands in the clouds. This tower will draw all the other tribes to us and earn such a name for us that, whatever happens, we will be strong and united. We will never be scattered across the earth like straw!” Rab-Mawg’s expression was passionately intense, stirred with the kind of devotion that most men reserved for their beloved wives—or their horses.
Ugh! He’s in love with this tower, Shoshannah thought, revolted. But a question occurred to her then, one that might calm and distract this bizarre priest. “Please, Master Rab-Mawg, can you tell me anything more about the future of this tower? Has my uncle made any other plans for it, except that it will be a temple?”
The young priest actually looked surprised. He studied Shoshannah, then eyed Ormah, who was now shifting impatiently—no doubt wishing Shoshannah hadn’t questioned him. Cool, he inclined his head.
“I have not spoken to your Master-Uncle about this, Lady, but I intend to ask permission to inter our Great King somewhere in this tower. After all, it is being built in his memory, and at his request.”
“Inter? You mean to… bring his body here and…”
“What we can find of his body,” Rab-Mawg agreed sharply. “Yes. We will protect his remains here. Lord Kuwsh has already interred the head beneath our altar.”
“Oh.” Shoshannah suppressed a creeping chill of horror, wishing she hadn’t pursued the subject. The Great-King Nimr-Rada’s body had been cut into pieces after his death. After her mother and father had supposedly rebelled and betrayed him to their Father Shem, who had executed Nimr-Rada. I’ll never learn to think before I speak.
As she scolded herself for being so foolish, Rab-Mawg said, “In this way, we will honor our fallen king. Despite your mother’s treachery, our He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies will never be forgotten.” Leaning forward, the priest added, “You could be forgiven and remembered forever, if you fulfill your mother’s vows to serve Shemesh. You would be worshiped, even if you die before your elders. Just convince us that you deserve such adoration.”
I don’t want that kind of adoration.
He continued to talk, his face again lit with that awful intensity that made her skin crawl. She wasn’t going to be able to fool him for long. He would certainly want to kill her at the end of her allotted year. One year to escape. She had to warn Kal.
While they were walking down the stairs, followed by the spying Perek, Ormah criticized Shoshannah indignantly. “You had to question him and keep him talking! You can’t ever keep quiet, not even when your life depends on it. And”—she shook her head—“I don’t understand why you find it so hard to just do what our Master Ra-Anan and the priests ask. It’s not the dreadful problem you seem to think it is! Just worship our Shemesh—as you should. It’s so simple.” Perturbed, the maidservant added, “I wish someone would offer me such a glorious place in our Great City in exchange for a few stupid lessons.”
Seated beside his wife in their main room, Ra-Anan scolded Ormah. “Perek was concerned about your behavior at the tower today. Listen to me, girl: You will not speak of Shoshannah or her lessons to anyone. Do you hear me? Don’t even discuss her with the cook. If I suspect you of gossiping, I’ll have Perek cane you until you can’t walk.”
Ormah shook, her pointed little face turning claylike with fear. “Yes, my lord.”
Ra-Anan waved her out, watching as she bowed and dashed through the doorway to the kitchen. Can she be trusted? Ra-Anan frowned until Zeva’ah leaned against him and sighed, clasping his arm.
“Beloved,” she murmured, “I hope Shoshannah won’t ruin all your plans with her foolishness; she’s more like her mother than we first believed.”
“If Shoshannah is too much like her mother, then she will destroy herself,” Ra-Anan said absently. He wished he could have more time to talk with the girl, to persuade her of her potential role in this kingdom. And to crush her frustrating devotion to the Most High and the Ancient Ones. If only his Zeva’ah weren’t such a suspicious, jealous woman, he would personally take control of Shoshannah and her lessons. She must be made to obey.
Eventually, when he declared Shoshannah’s new high status, Shoshannah would be popularly acclaimed. Then Sharah and Kuwsh would be provoked enough to behave foolishly, endangering their already eroding hold upon the affections of their people. As for Adoniyram… Ra-Anan smiled to himself. I still control you.
“Do you still want us to protect this girl, knowing that she worships that Most High?” Rab-Mawg asked. He was watching Adoniyram so closely that the Young Lord wondered how much the head priest suspected.
Swirling the thick beer in the clay cup they had offered him, Adoniyram pretended to think briefly; then he nodded. “She’s important to us for now—don’t you agree? She’s the perfect irritant for our enemies.” He paused. “One favor?”
Rab-Mawg smiled agreement thinly—looking so much like Ra-Anan that Adoniyram almost told him of the resemblance. But knowing how thoroughly the young head priest detested his arrogant mentor, Adoniyram pushed the thought away. It was best not to provoke Rab-Mawg. Not yet.
Clearing his throat, Adoniyram asked, “Can we keep this situation hidden from our Lord Kuwsh and my Lady-Mother? I don’t care to quarrel with them unless we have to.”
“Master Ra-Anan has ordered us to say that the girl’s lessons concern nothing more than trade matters, customs, and polite manners. We are forbidden to mention her intended role. But she will fail us as her mother did. You know she will.”
“Let me deal with her then.” Adoniyram finished his drink, grimacing at the bitter taste it left in his mouth. “Don’t kill her; she can’t help being who she is.”
“She can help it,” Rab-Mawg contended. “But she won’t.”
If I succeed, I’m going to pitch you out with the other vultures, Adoniyram thought, loathing his quarrelsome priest-ally. His whole mouth felt dry from their beer. Grimacing again, he said, “I’m going to send you some better stuff to drink, Master-Priest. It won’t be wine, but it’s certainly better than this—plain water is better. I’m amazed your guts aren’t soured from drinking it.”
Defensively, Rab-Mawg said, “We’ve had to brew our own drinks. Your mother, your uncle, and Lord Kuwsh have stolen so much from us that we’re going to be begging in the streets soon.”
“I’ll send you everything I can.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Of course.” Adoniyram grinned, provoking a genuine—though pained—smile from the unhappy priest.
You have to trust me for a while longer, Rab-Mawg. Then you’ll wish you hadn’t. But by then it will be too late.
And Shoshannah, he hoped, would behave long enough to ensure her survival. The thought made Adoniyram nervous. Am I right? He wondered. Is there another way?
He felt nothing like a Promised One.
Exhausted, peering through the nighttime darkness, Kaleb watched Adoniyram pace back and forth along the edge of the tower’s plant-garnished terrace. Why are we still here? He’s finished talking with those priests, and Shoshannah won’t be attending any lessons tonight, though I wish she were … Not that it mattered; Kal doubted he’d have a chance to steal another kiss from his unenlightened wife, much less discuss an escape plan.
Most High, he implored, I am ready to snatch Shoshannah and my brother and leave this accursed place, if only You would show me how! Why must we stay here? And why isn’t that Young Lord ready to go back to his residence for some sleep?
Unable to restrain himself, Kal approached the young man, scuffing his boots just loudly enough that Adoniyram would be aware of his presence. As he expected, Adoniyram turned toward him, a dark outline against the stars.
“Kaleb. What is it?”
“I’m not sure, my lord. But I’m worried by the way you’re pacing. Are you going to throw yourself over the edge here?”
Adoniyram gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not tonight. I hope not ever.” He leaned against the waist-high terrace wall now, apparently brooding.
Kal stood just far enough away to be polite, but near enough to hear the Young Lord if he decided to talk.
After a brief pause, Adoniyram said, “I am doubting some decisions I’ve made, though I’m sure they are the right decisions. Do you ever doubt yourself, Kaleb?”
“Sometimes.” Kaleb laughed, more at himself than anything. “Usually others do my doubting for me.”
More quietly, the Young Lord asked, “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“If I have, they haven’t told me.” Immediately, Kal regretted being flippant. It would not do to have his new master think that he, Kaleb, would kill anyone. Lowering his voice, firm and serious, Kal said, “Actually, I haven’t killed anyone, my lord. And I pray I never do.”
“That’s what I thought.” Adoniyram sounded half disgusted, half amused. “But I am sure that if provoked enough, you could kill someone. Admit it; you would.”
“To defend myself, perhaps,” Kaleb agreed reluctantly. Or to defend Shoshannah.
“Or to defend me?” Adoniyram asked, still amused. “Perhaps you ought to think about that—being my guardsman.”
“If you were threatened, of course I’d defend you, my lord. That’s my duty.” Kaleb grinned, hoping to end the conversation. “However, I prefer to think that everyone loves you so much—and fears my stinking reputation so much—that they won’t try anything at all.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure you’re right. Everyone loves me.”
He sounded as if he were jeering at himself. Kal felt a jolt of sympathy for the young man, realizing how very isolated and lonely he was.
Adoniyram turned away from the edge of the terrace and started toward the stairs, motioning for Kaleb to accompany him. “Grab a torch and let’s go; I’ll clear my head with a hunt tomorrow morning.”
Lighting a torch from a nearby smoldering clay brazier, Kaleb frowned. Who is it you wish to kill?
As they walked down the stairs, Adoniyram said, “By the way, about a month ago I noticed that my mother sent at least five of her guardsmen away. I don’t know where they’ve gone, or why, but I do know they haven’t returned yet. Have you heard anything of them?”
“No, my lord. Is this unusual?”
“Yes. At least it is unusual for my mother. She loves being surrounded by her servants and guardsmen more than she loves her own family—it makes her feel powerful. I wonder what she’s planning.”
“I’ll be listening; I’ll speak to my brother too.”
“Thank you, Kaleb.” He mused aloud, “But I hope my Master-Uncle and his servants don’t know more about my mother’s household than I do. That would be disgraceful.”
“Indeed it would, my lord.” Perturbed by this whole conversation, Kaleb followed Adoniyram down the tower stairs.
In the Lady Sharah’s sumptuously overdecorated residence, Adoniyram bent and kissed his mother’s cheek. She looked bleary this morning, but not unhappy, which was odd. He eyed her suspiciously as she motioned for her serving women to finish combing her hair and fastening her ornaments. She wore a particularly elaborate necklace this morning, a cascade of red stones mounted in gold.
“That’s new, isn’t it, Mother?”
“Yes.” Sharah preened and checked her reflection in an obsidian mirror, smiling. “I traded some gifts to have it made a few weeks ago; I felt like celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
“Nothing that concerns you.” She threw him a fierce look. “If you’ve come here to quarrel, then you can leave. I’ll listen to my people and accept their petitions without your help.”
“I haven’t come to quarrel, Mother; don’t worry. I didn’t want you to think I was neglecting you.” Politely, he asked, “Have you heard from those missing guardsmen of yours? It’s not like them to just disappear.”
“They are retrieving some things for me—which is also not your concern.”
“Forgive me.” He should have waited to question her while she was drinking and too tired to consider what she was saying. Now he would simply have to wait until the missing guardsmen returned. Perhaps Kaleb would have better luck talking with his brother when they visited Ra-Anan’s household tonight.
His mother was smiling again. “There is something I will tell you. Ra-Anan has sent an appeal out to all the other tribes—in my name—for the return of our Great King’s body. Isn’t that devoted of him?”
“Perfectly.” And it makes me wonder why you didn’t send out the same request years ago, after his death.
She hadn’t loved Nimr-Rada, of course, Adoniyram decided. She’s never loved anyone except herself. Not even me.
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