Shelter of the Most High

by Connilyn Cossette

  “Where are you going?” he said to Nadir, his brow furrowing. “I asked you to stay with my mother.”

  “She insisted she wouldn’t leave the inn and asked that we retrieve some of the downed tree limbs,” said Nadir. “I couldn’t let Prezi and Sofea go out there on their own.”

  Eitan grimaced, his gaze flitting between the three of us and then back toward the inn. Unease shifted inside me. Something had upset him. His mother? Or was it the damage to the foundry? Between the long hair that he’d still not bothered to tame, the streak of soot across his cheekbone, and the bleak look in his eyes, he barely resembled the man who’d kissed me on a rooftop and laughed with abandon as I attempted to shoot his sling.

  A sudden feeling of desperation made me step toward him. “Come with us.”

  His gaze clashed with mine, and if I hadn’t been carrying a large basket, I might have fallen to my knees at the impact. This was more than storm destruction. His expression was tortured.

  “Please.” Dazed by grim premonition, my plea came out as a strangled whisper.

  His eyes slipped closed for a brief moment, his lips pressed so tightly they went white, but then he looked over my shoulder to Nadir and Prezi. “I need to speak to Sofea. We will catch up with you at the gates.”

  Although both of them offered me concerned looks, they walked on. I kept my eyes locked on them until they disappeared into the crowd, desperate to hear what Eitan had to say but at the same time dreading it.

  Darek and Moriyah most likely desired Eitan to marry another Hebrew girl, one steeped in the ways of their people. Not the daughter of a heathen priest who reveled in the shedding of blood and debasing rituals. I was the child of a murderer, a monster, and the taint of it would never wash away.

  My lungs began to burn, as if I were trapped deep beneath the surface of the sea. The beautiful waves of copper that Eitan had fashioned into a ring were cold against my skin, a final mocking by Posedao, who’d stolen so much from me already. Had I lost Eitan now as well?

  Gathering my courage, I turned to him. “Darek wants you to marry a Hebrew, yes?”

  “What?” He shifted his stance, his attention briefly drawn to an ox-drawn cart full of tree limbs passing by. “Oh. No, he agreed to arrange the betrothal when he returns.”

  “He did?” My knees wavered as relief poured into me, and I placed the empty basket on the ground, needing to steady myself. I’d worried for nothing. “How long will he be gone?”

  Eitan took a deep breath. A muscle ticked in his jaw, as if he were grinding his teeth together. “It may be a few weeks. There is a threat building on the northern border of the territory. He came here only to call up more men.”

  “Is danger coming?”

  “For now, no. Although that could change,” he said, then told me of the king of Aram-Naharim and the Hittite weapons that had been found among the Amorites.

  “Can you make such thing as this iron sword?”

  “Possibly. I am considering whether layers of charcoal might help raise the heat in the furnace more. But at the moment I only have a small amount of iron ore to experiment with. And the roof ripped off the foundry, so I’ll have to repair that before I make any more attempts.”

  I placed my hand on his arm, sliding it down to squeeze his wrist in a gesture of comfort. “Darek choose the best man to make such thing. I know this.”

  He made a noise of dismissal in the back of his throat, his expression so pained that I longed to smooth the worries from his brow. But since we were standing in the street, the crowd parting around us as if we were two boulders in a stream, I stepped back and picked up my basket. “We should not keep Prezi and Nadir waiting.”

  We walked on, silence keeping pace between us. If Darek had conceded to the betrothal, why was Eitan so troubled? For as long as I’d known him, his emotions seemed so close to the surface. Even when I hadn’t spoken his language, I’d nearly always known his thoughts by the way he’d looked at me. Whether it was concern, or curiosity, or longing in his eyes, I’d never had to guess. But today everything was shuttered as tightly as the inn had been during the storm. Perhaps once we were outside the city and able to speak more freely, he might be more forthcoming about whatever was on his mind.

  We passed through the inner gates of the city, and I waved to Prezi and Nadir, who stood waiting for us near the gatehouse. Although still unsettled by Eitan’s strange mood, I could not wait to tell my cousin the news of our betrothal.

  Just as I moved to wend my way through the crowd, Eitan caught my arm. “I can’t go with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I cannot leave the city.” He pointed toward the group of guards who controlled the flow of visitors and traders through the tall outer gates, which stood wide open at this time of day. “Darek has given them orders not to let me pass.”

  The acid in his tone confused me. Although I’d always sensed an underlying tension between the two men, I had little doubt that Eitan greatly admired Moriyah’s husband. And from the pride I’d seen on Darek’s face when he looked upon the man his wife had taken as a son, I was convinced he loved him nearly as much as she did.

  “Why would he do this?” I asked.

  “I told him I planned to go north with him, to help defend our people against the Amorites.”

  “But you cannot pass the boundary, no?”

  Anger flared on his face. “Only because he does not trust me to protect myself. I was not convicted of anything by the council. Since I was a child, Moriyah shouldered the full burden of blame. Legally, I can go anywhere I please. And it is time for me to fight. To stand for Israel. But now . . .” He jabbed a finger toward the guards, whose wary eyes were latched on him. “Now he’s made me even more of a prisoner than before.”

  “But you—”

  He cut me off. “I should not have asked you to marry me, Sofea. Like usual, I made an impulsive decision and I was wrong.”

  My jaw gaped. “What are you saying?”

  “I have wasted months training with Baz, hoping that Darek would change his mind. Hoping that he would see that I am more than capable of joining him. But the only thing I am good for is making weapons to be handed off to the men who have the freedom to fight for Israel, to fight for the ones they love. What kind of husband can’t even protect his own family? Marriage to me means you would be trapped in this city like me, Sofea, possibly for the rest of your life. What kind of life would we have? What kind of life would our children have, growing up in a prison?”

  “We would have life together,” I said, my vision watery. “This is enough for me.”

  His expression softened. His eyes traveled over my face, as if he were memorizing every feature, lingering on my hair, my cheeks, my lips. I stepped toward him, not caring who was watching us as I lifted my hand to touch his face.

  Before my palm could connect with his bearded cheek, he took a step backward, his eyes going hard. “It is not enough for me.”

  The words lashed harder than the metal tip of Seno’s whip against my skin, leaving lacerations that went infinitely deeper.

  Eitan turned away, his height making him visible above the crowd as he passed back through the inner gates. Swallowing the violent sob that had been building in my throat, I watched as the man I loved turned the corner and disappeared from view, leaving me with nothing more than an empty basket and broken promises.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Prezi planted herself in front of me. “Sofea. What is wrong? You have not said a word since we left the city.”

  I ignored the determined set of her chin and bent to pick up another limb, adding it to the basket that was already half full of wind-torn olive branches. “I am fine.”

  “You are not,” she said. “What did Eitan say to you?”

  The sun shimmered through the clouds, blinding me as I looked into the sky. A flock of gray cranes winged overhead, and I watched them disappear over the eastern horizon. Prezi waited for
me to respond, unyielding.

  “He does not want to marry me,” I finally said.

  “That is not true. I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. There’s nothing he wants more.”

  “You’ll have to convince him of that, then. Although Darek gave his blessing for a betrothal, Eitan made it very clear that he’s changed his mind.” I told her more of our conversation, straining to keep my voice even as I laid out the way he’d destroyed everything with six words.

  Dropping her basket, Prezi wrapped her long arms around me. She smelled of rosemary, yeasty bread, and olive oil—the smell of the sea having long washed away from her hair, and along with it, the remnants of our home.

  How had our roles shifted so completely? Back among the Sicani, I had been the strong one, the older cousin who chose the games, directed the excursions, and pushed her to dive deeper and swim farther out into the sea. Now it was Prezi’s arms holding me together.

  “At least this time you weren’t in the way of my misplaced trust,” I said, my voice trembling. “These wounds are all mine.”

  “He’s not Seno,” she said. “Something deeper is going on here. Something we don’t understand. I’ll talk with him when we return.”

  I shook my head against her shoulder. “He made everything quite clear.”

  Nadir approached the two of us, his arms full of tree limbs as big around as my leg and concern on his face. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No.” I extricated myself from Prezi’s embrace and bent to pick up a few more small branches, determined to not allow Eitan’s rejection to wound me any more than it already had. We were very near the area where Moriyah had seen Raviv, the white boundary rock visible through the green underbrush. I frowned as Prezi explained that Eitan and I had a falling-out and about how Darek had forbidden him to pass through the gates.

  Nadir said nothing, but I could feel his gaze on me as I lifted my hand to shield my eyes, tilting my head back to watch yet another flock of cranes drift overhead. As their honking calls trailed off, I sighed. “I wonder where these birds fly to. . . .”

  Nadir looked over his shoulder at the place where the magnificent animals had vanished from sight. “I know where they are going.” He turned to me, a spark of something lighting his expression with anticipation. “Do you remember the lake I showed you from the rooftop?”

  I nodded. I’d never forget the day we’d connected, even without language, over our shared love of the water.

  “Each year thousands of birds congregate there on their way south. The entire valley is full of them at this time of year.”

  “Is this so?” I exclaimed, grateful for the distraction from Eitan’s rejection.

  “It is.”

  “You have seen this?”

  Nadir smiled broadly. “I have. I’ve been down to the lake many times. It’s at the center of one of the most fertile valleys I’ve ever seen. The water is so clear all I had to do was walk out a few paces with a small net and wait for the fish to come to me.”

  Prezi frowned. “I thought you could not pass the boundary.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “True. But unlike Moriyah, or Eitan for that matter, there is no one who has vowed to kill me if I do so. Medad’s family knows that my part in their son’s death was purely accidental. They testified on my behalf. There is no danger for me in leaving Kedesh. I stay here only at the behest of the elder council.”

  His description of the water in the valley had conjured a deep longing for the caress of the sea on my skin, the pleasant drag of its salty fingers through the length of my hair, the taste of the ocean on my lips.

  Seeing the yearning on my face, he grinned. “You want to go, don’t you?”

  I sighed, nodding. This day, more than any other, I longed to float on my back with my ears beneath the surface and watch the clouds in blessed watery silence. He looked back toward the city. In the distance, a group of men were carefully shoveling dirt atop a densely packed pile of burning tree limbs. The mound would smolder for days, producing charcoal for the people of Kedesh.

  “Let’s go,” Nadir said. “No one is watching.”

  “No!” said Prezi. “This is not safe.”

  “It is less than an hour’s walk. We’ll be back well before the sun goes down.”

  My heart picked up its pace. Could we do such a thing?

  “I am armed,” said Nadir, with a gesture to the sword hanging from his belt. “I will protect you. I have been down to that valley many times and have rarely ever crossed anyone’s path. I know the way to go where we won’t be seen.”

  “We cannot.” Prezi’s expression was a flood of worries, an echo of all the times I’d urged her to enter an unknown cave or cajoled her into flinging herself off a low cliff into the sea after I’d already dived in.

  “Please, cousin?” I pleaded with my palms pressed together, just as I’d done when we were children. “I am not ready to return to the city or . . .” I lowered my voice and allowed a bit of my devastation to surface. “To see Eitan just yet.”

  Her brow furrowed as she considered my argument and then lifted her eyes to Nadir. “We will be back before sunset?”

  A jolt of excitement made me drop the broken limbs in my hands, and I hugged her, thanking her for understanding. Although she returned my embrace, her smile was tight and she glanced back toward the city a few times as we hid the wood baskets behind a large olive tree and moved toward the boundary line.

  “There’s nothing to fear,” Nadir said, his own eyes flitting back toward the walls to ensure we were not spotted as we made our escape. “Although this lake is nowhere near as large and beautiful as the one I used to live next to, the short walk is worth it, I assure you.”

  As soon as we passed by the large limestone marker, I felt my muscles begin to uncoil. I slipped my hand into Prezi’s, giving it a little squeeze of gratitude. Eitan had pushed me away and smashed my hopes for the future, but at least today the water would welcome me with open arms.

  As soon as we crossed over the ridge into the valley, I sighted the lake Nadir had pointed out from the rooftop of the inn. The glittering water called to me, whispering words of home, of the warm sea and blue tides, of brine and white-pebbled shores.

  I gripped Prezi’s hand tightly, my steps quickening without forethought, and then with an apologetic grin I slowed, realizing that I was practically dragging my lame cousin along in my wake.

  Nadir had not exaggerated the myriad flocks of birds that gathered in the wide basin. Enormous gray and white cranes milled about the valley floor, various groups rising and falling like white-capped waves as they vied for position within the multitude. Their graceful necks and long-stretched legs lent them a regal appearance as they strutted about, searching out treasure among the long grasses at the edge of the lake.

  Overhead, swooping birds of all varieties filled the sky with song, welcoming us into the valley with great cheer. I had the foolish thought that Eitan should see this place, that he would delight in exploring here with me. A very foolish thought indeed, for even if he had not set me aside, he still could never leave Kedesh. Yet even so, the idea of building a life and a family with Eitan had been so satisfying that I would have gladly vowed to never step foot over the line for the rest of my days.

  When my toes finally met the shore, all my hopeful expectations dissipated. The water was frigid, the bank slick with reddish mud and clogged with marsh grasses. Although the valley and the lake were exceedingly beautiful, lorded over by a majestic snow-capped mountain range, nothing about this place echoed my island, my home. And the promise of a new home with Eitan had now been washed away. My thumb worried the ridges of my shell necklace, as if the familiar movement could smooth away my heartache.

  Seeing the disillusionment on my face, Prezi slipped an arm around my shoulders. “I miss the island too, Sofi,” she said, her soothing tone causing cracks to splinter the tight hold I had on my emotions.

  I had not cried on the beach the day
our village was razed, nor as we’d lain helpless and hopeless on the sand. I’d been determined to stay strong for Prezi’s sake, to keep a rein on the grief that only overflowed when I was in the throes of a nightmare. But now hot tears spilled over.

  “Without Eitan, what is there to look forward to in this land?” I said, my throat seared with anguish. “All that is left is the pain of losing my family. Of losing everything.”

  My cousin pulled me tight against her side, her hand brushing down my curls over and over as I wept, as I finally grieved the loss of my family, my home, and now my love.

  She waited, not speaking until my sobs stilled and I was empty of tears.

  “For weeks after we washed ashore I felt the same way,” she said. “All I could remember was the blood, my mother and father’s bodies splayed on the sand, the smell . . .” She stopped, swallowing hard before continuing. “At times I feel guilty that I am glad that we survived when no one else did.” She turned to face me, her expression grave as she brushed a gentle palm over my cheek to wipe away the remnants of my sorrow. “But if I had to choose living in eternal ignorance with my family over knowing the truth all over again, I would still choose Yahweh. No matter what happens, I will always be grateful that he called us away from our island.”

  We stood silently in the placid water for a long time, until my toes went numb and the sun began to arc toward the western ridge. A whisper of embarrassment curled through me as I suddenly remembered that Nadir had been waiting nearby all this time as I poured out my despair over the man I’d chosen over him.

  “We should return to the city before the sun goes down,” I said, wiping away the salty trails from my cheeks. Although I dreaded facing Eitan after the things he’d said, it was time to cinch together my courage and go back to the inn.