Crown in the Stars (29 page)

Even Perek didn’t dare resist, though the brawny guardsman looked stupefied, as if he couldn’t believe that his master was commanding him to shepherd a flock of women.

“You can go outside as you are.” Zeva’ah stood and motioned Shoshannah to her feet. “Just watch what you say and don’t insult anyone.”

“I wish you’d come with me, Aunt,” Shoshannah said, challenging her cautiously. “I don’t want to bring any disgrace on your household.”

Demamah stood and looked from her mother to her father. “Please, let me go with her; I’ll keep her out of trouble.”

“Absolutely not!” Ra-Anan snapped. “You two will stay here, where you belong.”

But obviously I don’t belong here
. “Forgive me, Uncle. Aunt.” Shoshannah bowed to them formally, coldly. Almost shaking with rage and hurt, she stalked outside to the courtyard, which glowed crimson and violet in the sunset.

Perek followed her. As soon as they were far enough away from the main residence, he began to vent his fury. “You’ve been nothing but a problem from that first day—I should have killed you when I had the chance! Now this! Guarding a bunch of silly females…”

“Most men would be glad to change places with you,” Shoshannah interrupted angrily as the guards opened the gate. “It’s a good thing you’re not married. Your poor wife!”

A wild chorus of feminine laughter greeted them, scaring Shoshannah. Hands gripped her wrists, her elbows, her gown, pulling her into the crowd of triumphant women.

“His poor wife!” one young matron echoed, laughing at Perek.

Shoshannah realized suddenly that she had said just the right thing; as awful and rude as it was, it pleased these riotous women. She also realized that she was now safer with them than with Perek. He looked as if he could spit fire.

“Off we go, Daughter of Keren,” someone chanted singsong into Shoshannah’s ear. “To the river!”

They’re going to throw me in … and Perek won’t rescue me
.

Herdlike, they rushed Shoshannah away from Ra-Anan’s household, laughing, exulting, forcing Perek to hurry after them toward the market street, where they were joined by other eager celebrants. Here and there men leaned out from doorways or stood in small groups, watching the “silly females” parade past. Embarrassed, Shoshannah tried to ignore them. But at the end of the market street, a familiar figure on horseback made her almost stop in her tracks. Adoniyram. With two guardsmen.

He acknowledged her with a barely noticeable nod, then gave his attention to the other unmarried girls in the crowd, smiling at them, admiring some of them openly, making them shriek and giggle.

You didn’t warn me not to attend
this
gathering
, Shoshannah thought to him, infuriated. He was apparently here to amuse himself. But perhaps he would intervene if she were threatened by these unruly women.

Some of the matrons and younger girls carried slender bone flutes, and they began to play these now, the melancholy notes rising in the air, subduing the gaiety of the celebrants. As they approached the dusk-washed river, the women hushed. Sighs, whispers, and a mournful, overwrought narrative threaded through the crowd.

“He loved her, forbidden, this young guardsman… but she scorned him… a mere guardsman… Still he remained devoted! For her he died… then she regretted what she had done…”

Listening to their recitation, Shoshannah stifled her disgust. These women made her mother sound cold, hard-hearted.
Like Sharah
. The celebrants were nudging her toward the riverbank. A matron, sturdy and determined, thrust an object into her arms: a large, oblong wooden container filled with aromatic spices, dried flowers, and an alarmingly lit taper, which would soon set the dish aflame. It was a boat, Shoshannah realized. An offering. “Set it in the river, Daughter of Keren.”

Still seething, but knowing she had to obey, Shoshannah went down to the water and waded in, gasping quietly at its coldness and at the thick silt oozing upward into her sandals. Zeva’ah would be furious if the sandals were ruined. Feeling the current pulling at her garments, Shoshannah lowered the now-kindled offering into the water, praying she wouldn’t set her hair afire. The craft flared spectacularly, its glow reflected in the dark current that was drawing it away downstream.

Other women set their offerings adrift behind Shoshannah’s, keening in ritualized wails. Shoshannah watched the fiery boats and listened to the wails, suddenly mesmerized, feeling as if her mother’s story had come alive before her eyes.

My mother stood in this mire
. Somewhere nearby, she and Zekaryah had pulled Lawkham from the river and mourned with her attendants. They had carried Lawkham’s body through the streets of the Great City to his grieving family.
I’ma, how awful that must have been for you, and for Father
. She ached to think of them, and of the
young Lawkham and his family. Lawkham had been a bit older than Kal…

Whispers arose behind Shoshannah now, tiny exclamations of horrified delight. Curious, Shoshannah turned. Three women stood at the river’s edge, separate from the crowd, two holding flaring torches, another, tiny and pretty, hugging herself vulnerably. I’ma-Meherah.

Amazed, Shoshannah waded out of the river, rushing toward her adoptive grandmother, who held out her arms.

“Shoshannah-child…”

As the women behind them crowded nearer, Shoshannah hugged Meherah and kissed her, gladdened and grieved. “I was just thinking of you… of your whole family.”

“Here I am, child,” Meherah said fondly, as if they had been together from Shoshannah’s infancy. “And I won’t leave your side until you’re safe again.”

Surprised, Shoshannah pulled back, studying Meherah’s tender, bright-eyed face. “Who told you I was here?”

“The Young Lord’s guardsmen. And my own daughters. They heard rumors in the streets today—so I would have come no matter what. Though I usually don’t.”

For Shoshannah alone, Meherah whispered, “They don’t mourn my son; they offer tributes to someone they’ve imagined.” Raising her voice, Meherah said, “These are two of your own aunts, Hadarah and Chayeh.”

“You look so much like your mother,” Hadarah sighed, holding her torch safely out of range as they embraced in greeting.

From behind them a woman cried, “Meherah, come away from the water!”

“Peletah, you timid thing,” Meherah scolded her loudly, warmly. “Come meet my Shoshannah-child!”

Feeling safer now, Shoshannah followed Meherah up the riverbank, where the robust Peletah and the other women crowded around them, chattering, obviously enjoying the scene tremendously. They reentered the Great City together, singing, laughing. The merchant wives offered Shoshannah honey cakes, spiced meats, drinks, and fruits. And they taught her the tiny gliding-skipping steps of their dances, lit by countless lamps, tapers, and torches.

Forcing down her resentment at the lies they had recited about her mother, Shoshannah danced, smiled, and talked with the women and girls of the city. But she deliberately ignored Perek, Adoniyram, and his guardsmen, who watched her from the shadows.

Adoniyram secretly admired Shoshannah as she danced. She was lovely and delightfully unassuming, winning the affections of the city’s matrons and daughters as he’d hoped. They would honor her because of this night.
That will infuriate my mother. And antagonize our Lord Kuwsh
… It would also provoke the increasingly unstable Rab-Mawg to insist that Shoshannah must fulfill her mother’s vows. Unfortunately, it would also help Ra-Anan’s popularity, for he was sheltering the girl, and he had presumably allowed her to come here tonight.
But I will find some way to deal with you, Master-Uncle, as I have dealt with the others …

It had been so easy to subtly encourage his own unwitting gossip-loving servants to spread this thought in the market street: that Shoshannah should join these women tonight. The risk to Shoshannah had been worth
the result.
Beloved
, he thought, eyeing Shoshannah from beneath his lashes,
we will win
.

“Aw, what a stench! I say we should scrub them first!” the guardsman Ye’uwsh complained, his scraggly, squared brown face contorted, grimacing as he tightened the ropes around Kaleb’s and Tiyrac’s wrists. “They’ll kill half the city.”

Kaleb scoffed amiably, though he secretly hoped Ye’uwsh’s complaints would persuade the others—a ducking in the river sounded like bliss. “Are you going to scrub me, Ye’uwsh? Hey, maybe you can pick the bugs from my hair!”

“No,” Ghid’ohn said, half grinning at Kal’s taunt, “we’ll lead them into the Great City, stinking to the heavens like the animals they are. As for the rest of you, shave and clean yourselves. We don’t want anyone to say that we look like these two.”

While Kaleb tried to ignore the torment of clean water so close by, Tiyrac growled beneath his breath, writhing miserably, chafing at the cords that bound them. “I itch! Augh! You owe me for this, Kal.”

“I know. But at least we’ll have everyone’s attention—and that’s what we want.”

“Anything, if it’ll get me a bath!”

“I hope Shoshannah won’t see me this way.”

“I hope she does.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Dibriy asked Ghid’ohn, prying for information as usual.

Not trusting the sinewy, nosy Dibriy for an instant, Ghid’ohn said brusquely, “I’ll do exactly what I was commanded to do. Now go scrub and shave.”

Whom do you serve?
Ghid’ohn wondered.
Master Ra-Anan? Lord Kuwsh? Our Queen of the Heavens, or the Young Lord?
Whoever it was, Dibriy would spill all the information he had gathered. Therefore, Ghid’ohn was determined that there wouldn’t be much to spill, except for the knowledge of these two stinking monsters they had dragged in from the steppes. Ghid’ohn wished he could trade these two mountain dwellers to the highest bidder.
I’d be rich
.