Angels at the Gate

by T. K. Thorne

  I nod. “My desire for him is strong.” I can say this with honesty in my voice.

  She presses her lips into a line. “The love of youth is always strong. That is Ishtar’s blessing … and her curse.” She seats herself again. “This man you desire is a shaman from a distant land.”

  I twist my hand in my skirt. “He seems young to be so much.”

  She smiles. “He and his brother are from an ancient line of shamans, priests of the heavens. This man, Raph-el, has refused to call on his power for Babylonia, and so the king has punished him.”

  Raph-el. Raph of Heaven or Raph of El, the Creator. So even here in this land, the messengers of El are known. “What about his brother?” I ask innocently. “Can he not help Babylonia? Then Samsu-iluna could release Raph-el.”

  She sighs. “It is not that simple. In any case, the brother is not here, so all falls to this one.”

  I bite my lower lip, relieved that Mika has not been discovered. “Then I ask you only to let me see him and speak to him.”

  She looks at me for a long time. “I owe you much.”

  I lower my gaze and say softly, “This is all I wish.”

  She laughs softly and looks over at the lion statue. “Ishtar, my Lady, you will have your sport.”

  CHAPTER

  32

  Take in your hand large stones and hide them.…

  —Book of Jeremiah 43:9

  WITH TREPIDATION, I APPROACH THE mud-and-reed hut that sits among many in this marshy area south of the city. My beloved is there. I can feel my heart a prisoner in my chest, perhaps in sympathy to his enslavement. No ready words are in my mind to say to him, but the chance has arisen to see him and I must seize it.

  A guard bars my way, but I lift my arm for him to see the white cloth tied to it with the imprint of Ishtar’s priestess on it. He examines it for a moment and then steps aside. None of the other huts, I note, have guards for the slaves who live within them.

  It is dim inside, with only a reed mat for a bed, a clay bowl, and a pot in the corner. The smell is not too bad, and I presume working on the irrigation canals gives Raph opportunity to cleanse himself of sweat and do most of his elimination outside the hut.

  He is sitting on his reed mat when I enter, and rises with that warrior grace and wariness I remember. He looks the same, except he has a rough beard and his hair is longer and ill kept. He wears only the short skirt of a slave. His broad chest is deeply tanned. I imagine his light skin has burned and peeled many times before protecting itself by darkening. With relief, I see his arm has not been burned with a slave’s brand.

  The guard leaves us. For a long moment, I can say nothing, and he is also silent. Then I step toward him.

  “Who are you?” he asks.

  I stop. I never imagined he would not know me. “Raph, do you not recognize me?”

  He narrows his eyes, the blue of them darkened almost to black in the shadows. “You seem familiar, Lady, but—”

  Across a desert I have sought him, my mind picturing our reunion a thousand ways, but never in any of those imaginings did he not know me. “I am Adir from the tribe of Abram.”

  His eyes widen. “Adir?”

  I lift my chin. “Adira now.”

  “How—” He swallows. “My brother, is he safe? Why are you here?”

  I move closer, wanting him to embrace me. My skin cries for his touch. “We followed you across the desert.” My mouth is dry. “Mika is safe. He is inside the city.”

  With a sweep of his arms, Raph gathers me to him, crushing me against his chest, then kissing first my left cheek, then my right, and then my left again. It is the kiss of family and not what I have hoped for, but at least I am in his arms.

  But to my disappointment, he releases me. “I cannot believe you are here. Why did you come?”

  “For you, of course.”

  He begins to pace within the confines of the hut. “My brother is not safe here.”

  “What do they want of you?”

  He stops and looks at me. “Babylonia is threatened on all sides. The oracle readings of Ishtar’s priestess and Marduk’s priest are in conflict. They want me to tell them—”

  “Tell them what?”

  He takes a deep breath. “The future.”

  I take a moment to consider this. “Tabni says you and Mika are shamans. If you can see the future, why not do so?

  “It is not so simple, Adir.”

  “Adira,” I correct.

  He smiles. “You make a pretty girl.”

  My ears burn, and I twist my hands in my shawl to keep them away from my nose. “Why is it not simple?” I ask the question to hide my embarrassment over his compliment. A part of me realizes the irony—I have dreamed of hearing those words, but now that I have heard them, I do not know what to do with them.

  “I am not the shaman they think I am,” Raph says.

  “Oh.”

  “Mika is.”

  “Oh.”

  “I am his brother and his guard. His protection is my life’s charge.”

  I seal my lips to keep from uttering another “oh.” He must think me an idiot.

  “He is not safe here,” Raph repeats.

  “What will they do to him, if they find him?”

  Raph sighs. “I suppose the king will demand he tell him whatever he wants to know.”

  “Can he not do that?”

  “He might. Again it is not simple. If he does not, they will keep him prisoner until he does. If he is able to answer their questions, they will keep him to answer another and another.”

  I swallow. “And if he gives the wrong answer?”

  Raph grasps my shoulders. “Now you begin to see why it is not a simple matter. You must tell him to leave Babylon and this land.”

  His grip on my shoulders is harsher than a lover’s, but I do not flinch. Any touch is better than none. “But if we leave, they will keep you a slave forever.”

  “I will find a way to escape, but I cannot go without—”

  I think I am about to learn what is in the stolen chest that Mika and Raph carried with them. It sits in the reception room beneath the feet of the king of not just Babylon, but all of Babylonia.

  “Adir—”

  “Adira. I am—”

  But he does not let me finish correcting him. “Did I see you at the palace?”

  I am pleased he remembers me. I had not thought he noticed me at all. “Yes.”

  Raph takes a breath. “Samsu-iluna has something very important that belongs to my people. If Mika knows this, he will put himself in danger to retrieve it.”

  “The cedar box.”

  “Yes.”

  “What is in it?”

  “It does not matter. What matters is its return to my people.”

  He releases my shoulders suddenly, and I feel the void where his touch had been.

  “No, I cannot ask this of you. You are only a young boy—”

  I am aware of his manipulation at the same time as I feel the rush of insult it produces. “I am not a boy.” A week ago, I would have finished that declaration with, “I am a man.” Today, however, I say, “I am a woman.”

  Raph’s hand reaches out and squeezes my breasts. “These are real?”

  I step back.

  His mouth is open. “I thought you were in disguise.”

  My arms have crossed of their own volition over my chest. “They are real, and I am real.” This seems the time to throw myself against him, but I do not. Somehow, nothing I have imagined matches with reality.

  The guard steps onto the threshold. “Finish up,” he says as if we have been writhing on the ground together. “He must leave for the ditches.”

  Raph appears to be gathering his scattered thoughts. He whispers urgently, “If you can get the box to Mika, he will leave. He knows his first duty is to his people. Please do this for me, Adira.” He says my name carefully. I wonder if he knows the hold he has on me. He is such a handsome man. Surely every woman who me
ets him falls under his sway.

  “We will free you,” I say.

  He sighs. “You are just as stubborn as a woman as you were a boy.”

  I laugh, and my fondness for him rushes over me once again.

  CHAPTER

  33

  What do people gain by telling lies? Just this, that when they speak the truth they are not believed.

  —Aristotle

  WHEN I RETURN, NAMI IS so excited, she runs in circles and then jumps on me, placing her paws on either side of my shoulders to lick my chin and take it gently in her mouth. Seldom has she displayed such exuberance. She does not notice or care I am now a woman.

  Not so Chiram. He is furious. “Where have you been, Adir? I told you to stay by my side. Do you not ever listen?” Without stopping to draw breath or allowing me to answer, he stomps to within a fist of me. I can smell the beer on his breath. “Why are you dressed as a girl?” he demands. “Do you think yourself some kind of spy? What are those?” He reaches for my breasts.

  Warned by Raph’s reaction, I step back, and Nami positions herself between us, watching Chiram. She does not growl, but she will spring if he takes another step.

  This makes Chiram pause long enough for me to speak. “I am a spy,” I say. “Is that not what I am supposed to be doing? Finding out something about Raph without letting anyone know Mika is here?”

  “And did you?” Mika asks. He has risen without a sound and steps toward us.

  “I did. I have spoken to him.”

  This stops Chiram altogether from whatever he was about to say.

  Mika steps closer, hope smoothing the fine lines beneath his eyes. “He is alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is he? Is he well?”

  “He is held captive and made to work as a slave in the irrigation ditches.” I frown. “They guard him closely. There is no easy way to flee with him. ”

  “Who made him a slave?” Chiram asks.

  Mika answers first. “The king.”

  I look at him. “You knew this from the beginning?”

  With a shrug, Mika says, “I knew it was a possibility.”

  I settle myself on my pallet, my back against a wall. Nami lies beside me, putting her head in my lap. I suddenly realize my weariness, but I will not release Mika from telling what he has not chosen to tell.

  “What else have you learned?” Mika asks.

  I shake my head. “First, answer my questions.”

  A shadow of impatience crosses his face. I wonder if with his anger, the blue fire will appear, and if he would strike me with it. But I do not allow my expression to change. “I have earned the right to answers.”

  Finally, he sighs and echoes Raph’s words. “You are a stubborn boy.” A corner of his mouth twitches. “Or girl.”

  “True,” I say.

  Mika begins to pace the length of the courtyard. Moonlight seeps through the fronds overhead, dappling the dirt floor silver and gray. “Raph and I came to Babylon before we came to your land, to Canaan. Raph drank too much one night while rolling stones and bragged we were … more than we are.”

  “What did he say?”

  Mika flashes me a look of annoyance, but after a moment he answers, “Raph claimed we were great shamans from the northlands who could rise to the nine levels of heaven and perceive the future.”

  I wish I could lift one brow as Tabni does, but mine refuse to act independently. Again, I remember the blue fire cradled in Mika’s hand. “Can you?”

  This time Mika stops his pacing and stares at me. “It is more complicated than that.”

  Again, words that echo Raph’s. I purse my lips in annoyance. I am tired of secrets.

  Chiram takes a stick from the cook fire and lights the oil pots. At that moment, Nami rises to her feet, her ears pricked toward the door. A soft triple thump confirms her interest.

  Chiram scowls. “What does that stupid slave want? It is long past time for food and since what time has he bothered to knock? I will have him on his way.” He points a thick forefinger at Mika. “Hold your tale.”

  This is the first occasion I can recall Chiram being curious about anything.

  I am stunned when Chiram reappears, his face grave and annoyed, and steps aside. Behind him, standing tall, despite her compact stature, is a woman. Even in the plain garb she has donned and the dim glow from the oil lamps, I have no trouble recognizing her, not needing the subtle tang of myrtle that accompanies her.

  With haste, I scramble to my feet and introduce her. Chiram does not appear impressed, either at the presence of Ishtar’s High Priestess or that I know her. Mika’s shoulders fall. All our stealth and pretense have been wasted. We are uncovered. I am not such an excellent spy as I supposed. My throat tightens. My actions have thwarted any possibility of Raph’s escape, and Mika is now at the mercy of his brother’s captors. How could I have been so foolish as to present myself, and thus my friends, at the king’s feet?

  I will not speak, I vow to myself. If I do, I am sure to plunge us deeper into trouble. If anyone looks closely, they will see the gleam of tears that fill my eyes. I try not to blink to keep them from spilling, and my hand moves to find Nami’s head at my thigh. She stands close, knowing I need her presence.

  I expect the king’s soldiers to pour in behind her, but either she has ordered them to wait outside, or she is alone.

  As though she hears my silent thought, she says, “I am alone.”

  “It speaks for the order in the streets of Babylon that a woman can walk unmolested,” Mika says quietly.

  She has not taken her attention from him. “Perhaps it is because the goddess has not been forgotten here.”

  At first, this surprises me. Of course, the goddess is here. The people worship her in every city, though her names are many.

  But Mika and Tabni have locked gazes, as though this simple statement from her lips has somehow joined them in a secret understanding.

  I am confused, but the tightness in my throat has not eased.

  For a long time, silence reigns. Tabni finally breaks it. “You know why I am here.”

  Mika’s brows tighten. “I know Samsu-iluna seeks me.”

  “What you brought with you is safe,” she says.

  “What is in the box?” I ask, breaking my vow to keep quiet and listen. My father often chastised me for this fault. But I may as well have spoken to the walls. Neither heeds me.

  “Do I have a choice?” Mika asks her.

  “I have convinced Samsu-iluna what he seeks can only be accomplished by one who is free of coercion.”

  “And he believes this?”

  A smile wisps her mouth. “He believes sheep can be ‘persuaded’ into a gate by offering them no other path.”

  In a sudden shift, Mika spreads his hand. “Our hospitality is in fault. May we serve you food or drink?”

  I blink, spilling a tear that has welled. Dare I believe we might not all be enslaved and dragged to labor in the canals? With a furtive wipe of my sleeve at my cheek, I sit straighter. Even so, I do not care for the sound of sheep having only one path to follow.

  Like me, Chiram stands against the far wall, his dark, brow-hooded eyes shifting from face to face, waiting to see what enfolds from this encounter.

  Tabni shakes her head. “Thank you, but no, I have little time. Samsu-iluna awaits me.”

  “And if you return alone?”

  Tabni’s mouth tightens. “Do not tread that path. I do not need to ascend the nine levels to see your future or your brother’s and probably of those who travel with you.” She does not hesitate in her pronouncement of our doom. “The best of which would be to see all enslaved.”

  “And the worst?”

  With a shrug, Tabni says, “There are quick deaths, and there are slow ones.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?” She looks up at him. “It is not a king’s whim that guides Samsu-iluna. His father’s kingdom is vast, perhaps too large, and Samsu-iluna is beset with int
rigue and enemies. What the goddess has shown me in the stars of the future and what the god Marduk has revealed to his priest through the entrails of a goat’s liver have both been laid before the king. The one’s advice is contrary to the other.”

  Mika rubs his chin. “And he wishes a third insight?”

  “Yes. One devoid of politics.”

  “Nothing is devoid of politics.”

  She bows her head in acknowledgment, a wry smile briefly at her lips. Then she looks up at him again. “Nevertheless, what shall I report to the king?”

  Mika folds his arms across his chest and walks to the open back entrance that looks out onto the garden. He stands thus for long moments. We wait, and no one speaks. Finally, he spins around.

  “Take this message to Samsu-iluna. I will seek the future for him, but the price is our freedom to leave … with the box.”

  Tabni sighs. “I have already discussed the terms with him.”

  “And his answer?”

  “He has followed my counsel.”

  Mika takes a step toward her. “Which is?”

  “That all may leave, except you.”

  I take a quick breath, but hold my tongue.

  Tabni crosses her arms. “The king is not his father, but he is not foolish. If you were allowed to leave, what incentive would you have to give him your deities’ honest answer?”

  “What,” Mika asks quietly, “does the king seek to know?”

  “Which enemies are the gravest threats, and where to dispatch his forces.” She walks deeper into the room, stopping close to Mika. “If you give bad advice and Babylonia falls, you will be here with us to reap the consequences.”

  Mika’s face is still, revealing no emotion.

  Nami whines very softly, and I realize I am gripping the skin at the base of her neck. I release my fingers, and they nervously seek the mats behind her ears. It is a constant challenge to keep them free of snarls, and I need something to do with my hands.

  Finally, Mika says, “I see now the gate that leads into this ravine.”

  He too has remembered Tabni’s words about the sheep having no other choice than to choose the path through the gate.