Angels at the Gate

by T. K. Thorne

  “Katar, my master’s.”

  Then, as clearly as if it were yesterday, I remember when I bought a rug from this man. I can see him clearly—the tiny ring in his left nostril, the hand that roamed in a pattern from chest to oily beard to face and balding head. I never learned his name, but I have never forgotten him. The pieces of what Shem told me suddenly fit together. King Samsu-iluna hired Hurrians to search for Raph, believing he was the shaman of the two. When my father brought Mika and Raph to Sodom, Katar must have gotten word to the raiders that the giant strangers they searched for were with Lot. There are no secrets in this city. Everyone would have known we traveled with the strangers to Lot’s tents on the plains south of Sodom. If all had gone according to plan, we would have been there when the raiders arrived, but they were too early, and so my father died protecting his guests’ belongings. The raiders hunted for us. Shem was payment by the Hurrians to this rug merchant for his spying.

  With a stab of guilt, I wonder if the slaughter of Shem’s tribe was provoked by my rescue of the camels or if it would have happened in any case. I will never know the answer to that. How our choices can return to burden us.

  “Katar wanted to buy Nami,” I say to Shem’s back. “I think he might have killed me for her.”

  “He wanted to breed her and sell her pups. She had a litter, but only one is left.”

  “Is she all right?”

  Shem casts a glance over his shoulder, but does not meet my eyes. “I have tried, but—”

  At that moment, we pass through the doorway that separates the shop from living quarters directly into the courtyard. Not surprisingly, stained carpets cover most of the floor. Robes are scattered about. In the corner are a stacked pile of copper pieces and perhaps a few pieces of silver. A stout pole reaches up from the center of the courtyard. Bound so close to the pole she can barely turn her head is my Nami.

  With a cry, I stumble to her. She does not respond, and it is no wonder. She cannot smell at all through the stench of this room. She is bone-thin and strips of raw skin stripe her back. Her head is turned away from me and rests on her paws. When I touch her, she jerks her head around and snaps and then cringes as if she has learned a blow will inevitably follow.

  Tears flow down my face. “Nami. What has this demon of a man done to you?”

  “I tried to help her,” Shem says over my shoulder. “I brought her water and salve for her wounds whenever Katar left the house, and I cleaned her the best I could. No creature should be treated like this, especially a desert dog.”

  Katar. The name burns into my heart.

  Nami should know my voice or recognize the shape of me, but her eyes are glazed and unseeing, and I am still swathed in the robe and head-covering of a man. “Shem, whose robe do I wear?”

  “Katar’s.” Shem moves his feet in a nervous shuffle, as if anticipating the outcome of his actions on his master’s return.

  This explains Nami’s reaction. I smell like her hated one. Turning my hand so the back of it is presented to her, I slowly move it toward her nose, so she can catch my scent.

  A low whine issues from her throat. If she were human, I would say it is a sound of one who has lived the dark of endless nightmare, dreaming of a rescuer, yet when such appears, she fears it is not real. So it was with me in the cave beside the river when Raph came.

  Gently I stroke her head and whisper, “I am real, Nami. I am here.”

  She cannot move her head far. Katar has tied her so she cannot chew through the rope, but my knee is close and she rests her head on it.

  I keep one hand on her head and slip my knife from my sash to work on the thick rope. “Run back to my house, Shem. Find Mika, the tall man with hair the color of Mot’s Tongue. Bring him. Neither of us can carry her.”

  Shem hesitates. “Do not let Katar find you here. He will kill you.”

  “Run.” There is no place for argument in my voice.

  As I work my knife against the rope, Nami is completely still, though I can see her neck is raw from pulling against her bonds. It must torture her.

  I have almost cut through it when I hear a loud shout from the front shop. “Shem! Where are you, boy?”

  When there is no answer, he bellows, “I will flay what is left of your skin from your back. Gather the best pieces and my gold. This city burns!”

  My back is to the door, but I do not turn. I am determined to free Nami. The blow to my side spills me sideways. My body has forgotten how to draw a breath.

  “Thief!” Katar shouts. “Who are you? I want to know your name before my blade peels the skin from your throat.”

  Shaking with the effort, I gasp a breath and roll to my side, my hand searching in vain for my staff. “You are the thief. This is my dog.”

  He squints at me, his eyes not adjusting quickly to the dimmer light inside the house. The small ring in his nostril quivers with his rage. “Who are you?”

  I need time. I should reason with him, stall to give Mika time to reach us, but what comes out of my mouth is not reason. “I am Adira, the daughter of Zakiti, wife of Lot.”

  “You are a woman?”

  Through the pain in my side, I feel another irony. Here I am, once again clothed as a male in the city where I first met this man, this demon.

  “I am the owner of this dog you have tortured.”

  “You are the ugly, barren wife of Lot?”

  “I am Lot’s wife,” I say because I, who have always been glib of tongue, cannot think of anything else to say.

  “Well, your husband sold this dog to me.”

  The air rushes from my lungs again, though no blow has been struck. “What?”

  “He brought her to me; you have no claim. Not that I care what a woman claims.”

  I do not doubt his words. I thought Nami had jumped through the window to chase after me, but now I know the truth. I can imagine Pheiné in Lot’s ear at night in the bed he shared with his daughters, complaining of Philot and Nami and most probably … me. Nami had been the most convenient to be rid of when Lila and I visited Jemia. Philot would most likely be the next to disappear. And then me? If I did not throw myself into the sea in despair, would they have nagged Lot to be rid of me? He married me to keep up a show of righteousness. Of that I am convinced. But once his daughters became obviously pregnant, what then?

  “So, wife of Lot, what should I do with you? You are a thief in my house. It is my right to slay you, but perhaps first I will cover your ruined face and see what is between those long legs.”

  If ever I needed the skill of negotiation I had honed at my father’s side, it is now; but instead, I say stubbornly, “Nami is not yours. She was not Lot’s to sell.”

  I see the kick coming but I am not able to do more than try to roll away. Instead of my chest, it falls across my shoulder. Pain lances down my left arm. I ignore it and force myself to hands and knees, but I cannot rise quickly enough, and he is on my other side with a blow. The shock of it stuns me; my entire side burns with pain. I have rolled back toward Nami, and I huddle against her side. With the knifing pain, my thoughts fade into the nightmare of Babylonia, into the cave where I can only lie awaiting the next blow. Where will it land? When will it end? When can I die?

  I am drifting … to heaven or the sea’s embrace?

  From somewhere, a sound pulls at me. At first, I cannot understand what the sound is or why it has the power to drag me from my salvation into a scene from my past:

  Green points of light glare from that dark, a predator’s eyes—a stalking wolf. Then a dark shape with white markings moves between us with a low growl, and I realize this is the sound pulling me from the darkness—the growl of a dog protecting her pack.

  I am jolted into awareness of the hard ground pressing against my cheek; the ache of each breath; the smell of burning wood and pitch; and the stench of urine. But the sound is the same as in my dream; it is Nami. She has snapped the frayed cord of her rope, completing the job of my knife, and struggles to her fee
t.

  My heart wrenches at the sight of her so decimated. How is she standing? But she is, legs splayed, more ribs than flesh, teats hanging low. She staggers between me and the man who hurt her so many times that she cringed from the smell of him. She does not cringe now.

  But he is not afraid of her. How can he be? Like me, she is too crippled to dodge his blow, a fierce kick that sends her into the far wall, where she sprawls, twisted and still … so still.

  The heavens stop their turning. I cannot think, cannot breathe. I lie on my stomach, one hand trapped beneath me, the other flung out into the soiled blankets that had been the boundaries of Nami’s world. Needle teeth find a finger of my outstretched hand. A pup, the last pup, has found its way from the blanket folds. Hunger has driven it to latch onto my finger.

  Nami’s pup.

  I promised her, so long ago, that I would find a way to protect her pups, and I failed.

  From the corner of my eye, I see him coming.

  I will not fail her again.

  The pup’s movements have uncovered something else in the blankets’ folds—my knife, my father’s knife.

  Katar goes to one knee beside me and grasps my shoulder, sending a bolt of pain down my arm and side as he flings me over onto my back, bunches my robe in his hand, rips my underclothing and falls on me. I do not move until he is on me.

  With all my strength, I strike downward, plunging my blade into the base of his neck.

  CHAPTER

  58

  At dawn the next morning the angels became insistent. “Hurry,” they said to Lot. “Take your wife and your two daughters who are here. Get out right now, or you will be swept away in the destruction of the city!”

  When Lot still hesitated, the angels seized his hand and the hands of his wife and two daughters and rushed them to safety outside the city, for the Lord was merciful. When they were safely out of the city, one of the angels ordered, “Run for your lives! And don’t look back or stop anywhere in the valley! Escape to the mountains, or you will be swept away!”

  —Book of Genesis 19:15-17

  WHEN SHEM RETURNS WITH MIKA and Raph, I am still beneath Katar’s body. If it were not plain from the knife piercing the back of his neck that he is dead, I think both Raph and Mika would have decapitated him on the spot.

  For a moment, after pulling Katar away and realizing I would live, Mika turns his anger on me. “What demon stole your mind, Adira? Why did you come here alone?”

  Not, why did you come? But, why did you come alone?

  “I love you,” I say.

  He stops his ranting to stare at me, then he laughs, a sound edged with madness. I have never seen him this angry or this wild. Raph puts a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him, as only a brother can.

  “Help me stand,” I say. They do, and I force my face to stone so they do not see the pain. “My staff.” Despite my efforts, the words emerge in a gasp.

  Raph retrieves it. Steadied, I make my way to Nami’s body and sink to my knees. “Oh, my poor, brave friend,” I mutter. “He will never hurt you again.” I am sick with sorrow for her and for the pain she has endured. Could any man be as loyal and loving? The cavern in my heart seems vast and dark. Is life only about losing what you love?

  “Adira, the roof is starting to burn,” Raph says urgently.

  “I will not leave her. She would not leave me.”

  Raph starts to speak again, but Mika steps forward. “I will carry her.”

  I nod.

  Before he can reach for her, Danel’s voice is calling in the outer shop. “Adira! Are you here?”

  It is Raph who answers. “We are here, in the courtyard!”

  Danel enters and sets down a bulging pack, Lila close behind him. Lila comes at once to me. “Adira, are you all right?” Then her gaze falls to Nami and she gasps. “Is that Nami?” Her hand flies to her mouth.

  I understand her question. This broken body is hardly the beautiful, sleek animal she knew.

  Shem also joins us. He kneels beside me, his face grave and streaked with soot. “She was always gentle with me. She let me hold her pups.”

  The pup. I had forgotten it. “Bring it to me,” I tell Shem, pointing.

  He goes to root in the soiled blanket and pulls out a squirming pup, its eyes barely open. “The last one,” he says, pressing it against his chest. Shem’s steps are slow to my side, and his lower lip quivers as he holds it out to me. “A male. The best one. I hid him when buyers came.”

  The pup has Nami’s black coat and white legs and the same whimsical gold-brown slashes above his eyes. I slip him inside my robe, as I had done so long ago with the pup from Nami’s first litter. He snuggles against me, as if he knows my scent. It is a comfort to have him there.

  “Come with us, Adira,” Danel says.

  I am confused and too soon from the darkness of my nightmares. “Where?”

  “To Harran, where we have other family. Will you come with us, sister?”

  I blink at him. “Lot has agreed?”

  Danel looks away and then back at me, his shoulders taut. “No, he refuses to leave Sodom, though it burns. A twin to Mot’s Tongue rains ash and burning pitch on the city, perhaps on the fields below and other cities of the Vale. Who knows if it will ever end or what might happen next.”

  “Why does Lot refuse to leave?”

  “He says El would want him and his family to stay, as proof to the people his god is mightier than Baal or Mot.”

  What would it be like to have such surety as Lot of the god’s intentions? My thoughts turn to Pheiné and Thamma and the unborn children they carry. If the city burns, those babes will die before they are born, and they do not deserve that, any more than this pup next to my heart.

  My gaze lifts to Mika. In Lot’s eyes, he is El’s messenger, the angel who held a god’s blue fire in his hand. “I know how to make Lot leave,” I say.

  Danel does not ask, but trusts me in this. “Should we wait for you?

  “No, do not wait. I do not even know if Lot would go to Abram. You must leave the city now.”

  Danel hesitates and then comes forward to help me stand and to embrace me. “I am sorry for all the trouble I gave you as a child,” he says into my ear.

  I bury my head on his shoulder. “I am grateful for it … now.” I reach out an arm to include Lila, and we remain that way for a moment.

  When we part, I work two of the bracelets of silver from their place on my arm and give them to Danel. “Purchase a caravan if you wish,” I say. “It is what your father wanted.”

  He hesitates. Lila snatches them from my hand and works them onto her own arm. Practical Lila. She knows what it is like to have nothing. “We are grateful, Adira,” she says.

  I glance at the burning roof and move to the plaster ledge running the length of the wall. It is not under the opening above the courtyard, so if a log falls, it will not impale us, as one did Jemia. Sweat pours from us. The fires have heated the bricks. They will not burst into flames as the wooden poles do, but if the fires get hot enough, the mortar between will dry into dust. I need not worry about that, because we will be cooked before that happens.

  I call Shem to me. His eyes are bright with tears. “You have slain my master,” he says. “I am your slave now, Adir.”

  “No, you are not. You are free.”

  His dark eyes are wide. “Then I will go with you as your companion. What if you must go again into the desert?” There is a note of desperation in his voice. “You will need me.”

  “I promise you I will not go again into the desert. I have had enough of deserts. But I have a task for you.”

  “What?”

  “You must go with my brother, Danel, and Lila. They will go through Abram’s lands. There you will find Abram’s second wife, Hagar. Show her this.” I reach to my neck and remove the cylinder seal that has hung there since my father put it into my hand. I place it around Shem’s neck with another ring of silver from my arm. The cylinder hangs to his be
lly, so I tie a knot in the cord to shorten it and hide it beneath his robe.

  “Adira,” Raph says. “We have to leave.”

  The house is beginning to fill with smoke, but I barely glance at his sweat-streaked face. I must do this. “Shem, show this seal to Hagar and tell her I wish you to be part of her family, a companion to her son, Ishmael.”

  “Hagar and Ishmael,” Shem repeats, burning the names into his memory.

  If Sarai gives birth to a son, Ishmael would be in danger. Sarai was a good woman, but she would be fierce in protecting her child’s inheritance. Hagar always insisted that El promised Ishmael would also be the father of a people. If so, they would be a people of the desert.

  “Ishmael may not know it,” I say gravely to Shem, “but I think he may be spending time in the desert. He will need you.”

  Shem looks unsure.

  “Teach him everything you know about camels.”

  Only then does he smile. The first one I have seen on his face in this dark city. It transforms him into the boy I had known, so proud to show off his prize white camel, so quick to offer me, a stranger, his friendship. I draw a deep breath, preparing myself to do the most difficult thing I have ever done. Without allowing myself to think about it, I draw the sleepy pup from my robe and hold it out to him. “Name him Zakiti,” I say. “You and Ishmael will need him to hunt for you.”

  Tears fill his eyes. I imagine this pup was the only comfort he had as a slave to Katar.

  When they are gone, I return to Nami’s side, despite the crackle of flames above us. Mika kneels, sliding his arms beneath her. Her body will not be a great burden; she is so thin.

  He stops.

  “I will find a piece of carpet to cover her,” I say, thinking he is considering the journey back to my house.

  “This dog—” Mika’s voice is tight. “Nami is not dead.”

  My heart flutters. “What?”

  “She is still warm. The body should have cooled by now, even in this heat.” He runs a hand over her prominent ribs, leans down to press his ear to her.