He Who Lifts the Skies (47 page)

Feeling safer, Keren thanked Khawrawsh and the wary Ethniy, then entered the women’s tent and went to her pallet. She stored her weapons and stripped off all her gold ornaments, dumping them in a glittering heap on her gray coverlet. By the time she had finished, she realized that the other women were looking at her. Smiling determinedly at the mournful I’ma-Annah, she said, “I’m going to find my father and Zehker. Then I’ll come back and help with the evening meal—if anyone can eat.”

They were quiet. Alatah pointed out timidly, “You have blood on you.”

Keren looked down and noticed a darkening spatter over her chest guard and skirts. Nimr-Rada’s blood. Swallowing, she stammered, “I-I’ll … go wash.”

“We’ll prepare the food,” Na’ah said.

Nodding, Keren hurried outside to the meeting area. Shem and his brothers were standing before the main tent, talking quietly with her father. Meshek held out his arms, smiling. “Daughter, come here.”

Keren approached him, suddenly feeling like a lost child, found again.

Meshek hugged her tight and kissed her cheek, muttering fiercely, “I’m proud of you!”

She buried her face against his overtunic and cried, unable to believe that she could actually hug him. He was so warm. And happy. He kissed her again, patting her comfortably. “All’s well; you’re safe, and that’s what matters.”

Finally he released her, and she wiped her eyes, sniffling, wishing she could blow her nose.

Shem greeted her formally. “Karan, you’ve fulfilled your duties as the Most High intended. Thank you.”

“But Ra-Anan and Sharah still rule the Great City.…”

“Let the Most High deal with them,” Shem murmured, subdued. He held out his arms. She hugged him gladly, and he kissed her forehead. “Go wash now; we should all wash ourselves.”

Meshek cleared his throat. “Zehker—if he is still named Zehker—is at the river. That way.”

Before Keren could leave, the First Father Khawm stopped her. “What of my son Kuwsh?”

Kuwsh
. Keren felt ill. What could she say about Kuwsh that wouldn’t make his father miserable? She sighed. “Your Kuwsh was proud of Nimr-Rada and loves his status in the Great City. He … rebels against the will of the Most High.”

“I blame myself,” Khawm said, not looking at her. “This is all from my own rebellion.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for everything, Father Khawm,” Keren replied. “Kuwsh and Nimr-Rada chose a way they could have easily rejected—as my brother and sister have chosen. They love themselves above all.”

“Listen to her,” Yepheth told Khawm. “Forgive yourself. Then come with us to visit Father and I’ma.”

Sensing the start of an intense family discussion, Keren excused herself, smiled at her father, and hurried toward the river. She met Metiyl, Shem’s son Asshur, and her brother Neshar as they strode up the riverbank, all three dripping wet and clean.

Asshur inclined his head toward her, then hesitated, seeming anxious. “Have you seen my Bekiyrah?”

Keren was touched by his concern. “She’s in the women’s tent, fretting for you.”

He grinned, suddenly looking like Shem. Beside him, Metiyl said, “Well done, Karan-child. By the way, your beloved is there.” He jerked his thumb toward the river.

Keren thanked him and made a face at Neshar, who bowed mockingly. “I honor you, Lady!”

“Please, never call me by that title again.”

He laughed and waved her off.

She found Zehker sitting on the riverbank, staring at the torrent. His hands and arms were clean, but his face was smudged with blood. He looked up at her, clearly exhausted.

Keren unwound her linen belt and partially dipped it in the cold water. Then she knelt before Zehker, suddenly shy. “Here.”

“He’s dead.”

“Yes. We’re free.”

Zehker shut his eyes. “It doesn’t seem real. He ruled us for so long.”

She changed the subject, unwilling to think of Nimr-Rada. “I wish I could have met your parents and your sisters.”

“They would have loved you.” Composed now, he looked around warily. They were alone. He faced her, grim. “Do you
want
to marry me?”

“Only if you want me.”

A slow, dawning smile lit his stern eyes and revealed his dimples. Encouraged, Keren scrubbed his face with the wet portion of linen, then with the dried portion. She could truly touch him … as she had longed to do for years … amazing. She caressed his clean face. Then he seized her, swiftly pulling her into his lap, kissing her mouth, her throat, her cheeks, holding her tight as if he feared she would escape.

Laughing, she hugged him, exhilarated by his new spontaneity and warmed by his ardor. At last he simply held her, sighing, and she snuggled against him. Then she
swatted his shoulder. “You terrified me this morning! Why did you challenge Nimr-Rada unarmed?”

He stared, obviously perplexed by her sudden shift in mood. “That foolish Ethniy sat on my mat and fleeces where I’d hidden my ax. I couldn’t get him to move.” Quietly he added, “I also realized, by the look on your face, that if I could make Nimr-Rada turn from you long enough, you’d draw your bow.”

“Even so, you frightened me.”

“Forgive me.”

Nodding, she paused, curious. “What was your name before you were Zehker?”

“Zekaryah.”

Zekaryah—
God has remembered
. Absorbing this meaning, Keren smiled. Truly, the Most High had remembered His small child, stolen by Nimr-Rada. “Zekaryah.” Contented, she nestled against him. “I love you.”

To her delight, he nuzzled her throat, kissing her again. “But I loved you first.”

“See what happens when you bring all these pretty girls into the mountains?” Metiyl grumbled unconvincingly, waving a hand at the crowded clearing before the Lodge of Noakh. “My Khawrawsh loses his wits altogether. I told him he had to marry your little Tsinnah; she’ll keep him sensible.”

“I’m glad,” Keren said, watching Khawrawsh and Tsinnah standing together with Ethniy and Na’ah, jubilant, waiting for their wedding blessings. “Tsinnah will be safe in your tribe.”

“Of course she will. But what are you going to do with
her?” Metiyl demanded, jerking his chin toward the sullen Gebuwrah, who irritated him immensely.

Keren almost laughed. “Didn’t you know? She and Alatah are traveling with you to rejoin their families when your Father Asshur reclaims your lands on the plains.”

“What?”

Zekaryah approached Keren now, frowning at Metiyl. “Don’t steal my bride; your wife will beat you.”

Instantly, Metiyl glanced at his wife, the hearty, charming Tebuwnaw, whom he adored and feared. Bright as a bird in red wool, Tebuwnaw saw him, put her plump hands on her hips, and called out, “What are you doing?”

“Coming to kiss you.”

“Wise answer.” They laughed and kissed each other, then went arm in arm to stand near Khawrawsh and Tsinnah, who welcomed them happily.

“Lady—I mean, Keren.” Alatah offered Keren a large square of felted gray wool—a shawl Alatah had made this past winter. “I wanted to give you this; I thought you could wear it today, then use it later to wrap your firstborn. It’s not much, but …”

Keren unfolded the shawl, which now bore red beads on its fringed corners. Keren recognized the beads from a necklace she had given to Alatah after Nimr-Rada’s death. “It’s wonderful! But, Alatah, I gave you that necklace so you could barter it.”

“I still have the gold,” Alatah replied. “It’s enough. But I wanted you to remember me. I’m going to miss you—though I’ll be so glad to return to my family!”

“May the Most High bless them, and you.”

“May He bless you,” Alatah responded shyly, daring to smile at Zekaryah.

He smiled in return. “Thank you, Alatah.”

Noakh and Naomi emerged from the lodge, followed by the First Fathers and the First Mothers, and Meshek and Chaciydah. Alatah gave Keren a quick hug, then draped the shawl over her shoulders, rearranging her hair. Stepping back, Alatah nodded approvingly, unable to speak.

Equally emotional, Chaciydah met Keren and Zekaryah in front of the lodge, hugging them tearfully. “I can’t believe this day has arrived. You and Neshar—both married!”

Meshek interposed, taking Chaciydah’s hand. “Everyone’s waiting, beloved.”

Everyone. Noakh, I’ma-Naomi, Shem, I’ma-Annah, Yepheth, I’ma-Ghinnah, Khawm, and I’ma-Tirtsah. Keren was glad that they were finally reunited and amazed at how young the First Fathers and First Mothers all seemed. They had been through so much that surely they ought to look as old as their cherished Noakh and I’ma-Naomi.

Someone nudged Keren gently: Revakhaw. Standing with Neshar, she lifted her eyebrows at Keren. In awe she whispered, “I never dreamed I would meet all the Ancient Ones together, much less receive all their blessings!”

Noakh hushed everyone, lifting his hands, his expression deeply moved. “I am truly delighted to be surrounded by those I love—and to be asked to give the first blessing to these young ones.” He indicated all four couples. Bemused, he shook his silvery head. “It’s a good thing you’ve all agreed to be married at the same time; otherwise I’d be exhausted with too much talking.”

As everyone laughed, he said, “Please, each of you, take your beloved by the hand.”

Zekaryah’s hands were warm. Keren looked up at him. He was smiling; she wanted to never look away from his
face. All that He-Who-Lifts-the-Skies had been, with all his strength and power and gold … he was nothing compared to her husband.
Thank You
, Keren thought,
He-Who-Created-These-Skies, O Most High, thank You!

Annah knelt beside Shem during the wedding feast, remembering their own wedding day. It seemed only a week ago, yet ages past.
Impossible. But truly, I would have been dead long before now if not for You, O Most High
.…

She leaned against Shem, sighing. He bent toward her tenderly. He was so loving; how could he have put Nimr-Rada to death? Another impossibility. At least Khawm and Tirtsah supported his verdict; they had mourned for their grandson, but not for the vicious, unrighteous man he had become.

“Look at them,” Shem murmured, smiling at Eliyshama and Tsereth’s youngest children, who were capering after their older brothers, Meysha and Darak, delighted to see them after the yearlong separation.

Meysha, Darak, and Metiyl’s oldest, Yeiysh, had proudly returned Noakh’s gold leaf pendant, Shem’s gold medallion, and Annah’s treasured shell carving, all virtually unscathed. But the three young men had matured during their journeys.

The children of our children are older than we were at these same ages
.…

Annah cringed at the thought. But it was true: the younger generations were aging more rapidly. Shem had been trying to warn her of this for years. Even their dear Karan-child …
No
. Annah forced the thought away. She couldn’t endure it. Particularly not on this day, when
Karan looked so beautiful and happy, preparing to dance with her new husband. To distract herself, Annah took Shem’s hand.

“Let’s go dance with our children.”
And celebrate before the Most High
.

Drowsily, Keren peeked out of her tent. A misty dawn, but she was certain it would clear soon. Shaking herself awake, she knelt and worked her unruly hair into a thick braid, binding it with a leather cord. Behind her, Zekaryah finished cinching his foot coverings. As she wound the braid around her head and fastened it with slender wooden pins, Zekaryah kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver deliciously. He stood.