Heavens Before

by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

  Iltani knelt and waited until they were done sensing her and pondering her presence. The Nachash sat slack-mouthed and limp. Her eyelids—thin as the brown skin of a dried bulb plucked from the earth—rolled, then fluttered, revealing the whites of her eyes. The firelight played over her skeletal features, making her seem the least human of all humans Iltani had ever seen.

  At last the Nachash sighed thickly, her voice rasping from deep in her throat. “You … your hands empty … why do you come?”

  Iltani felt a prickling of sweat on her brow and down her back. “I didn’t know I was coming until I was on my way here; otherwise I would have brought you a gift.”

  “Your gift must suit your purpose when it is known. Tell us what you want.”

  “A child. I want to bear a child within the year.”

  The Nachash uttered a harsh, glottal grunt. “A child. A life. She wants a life from nothing? A life … and she has not paid.”

  “I’ve paid you before,” Iltani protested, not daring to raise her voice. “You know I’ll pay you again.”

  “Gold … for a life?” the oldest companion growled. The others muttered unintelligibly.

  “Cakes … for a life?” The Nachash echoed her companion, then sighed again.

  Iltani shivered; it sounded like the sigh of a dying creature. She leaned forward, feeling the heat of the fire against her face. Hardening her resolve and her voice, she said, “Name your price; I will pay.”

  “Do not ask for what you do not truly desire,” the Nachash warned.

  “I desire a child more than anything!”

  The Nachash sighed again, then groaned softly. “A life … requires a life.”

  Uncertain now, Iltani moistened her lips, then swallowed. “A life?”

  “A life,” the oldest companion answered, her eyes shut tight as if in concentration. “This is the price: a life for a life, one heartbeat for another.”

  “You want me to take the life of another person?” Iltani faltered.

  The oldest companion threw something across the flames. It landed heavily, tumbling toward Iltani’s feet.

  “One heartbeat for another,” the Nachash sighed. “This is the price you will bring to our fire.”

  Sweating, Iltani took hold of the object the companion had thrown. It was a knife of stone.

  Seven

  ANNAH KNELT in Yerakh’s workroom, polishing a blocklike wooden form used for shaping a small gold ointment pot. To Annah’s knowledge, no one in the settlement had requested an ointment pot, and there had been no travelers for a number of days. This is a whim of Yerakh’s, she decided. This gold pot is for Taphaph.

  Slipping her right hand into a protective leather mitt, Annah sprinkled some fine river sand into the form—a hollow gouged into the dense, fine-grained block of wood. Patiently she rubbed her mitt-protected fingers over the sand in the hollow, smoothing the rounded interior of the form. If this ointment pot were indeed for Taphaph, then Yerakh would demand perfection.

  He’s infatuated with her, Annah thought. I’m sure he will take her as his wife, even if Iltani does bear him a child.

  Since the night of the meeting, now ten days past, Iltani had been unusually quiet. She also had been staring. First she had stared at Ayalah whenever Ayalah walked by, then at Parah, Chathath, and the others. She also cried frequently, clearly envious of Parah, whose belly was noticeably larger this past week. Parah had complained of kicks from the unborn infant.

  Fascinated by the thought of an infant brother or sister, Annah worked the sand into the wood reflexively. I am almost glad I’ma is going to have a baby. If I ever marry my beloved—which I doubt—I’d long to have a baby of my own. But babies turn into children, and all the children I’ve seen are spoiled, vicious, screaming, spitting little monsters who think nothing of attacking anyone. I’d despair, having such a child. Annah shivered suddenly. Someone was behind her, watching her.

  Shifting, she recognized Iltani’s plump brown feet. Her sister-in-law was standing just inside the leather-curtained doorway of the workroom, perhaps three arm-lengths from Annah. Why is she staring at me? Annah tensed. She hoped she would not have to run: Her bruises and swollen jaw were finally beginning to heal, but her ribs still hurt whenever she took a deep breath. Go away, she thought, staring at Iltani’s feet. To her surprise, Iltani retreated behind the leather curtain without saying a word.

  Disturbed by Iltani’s odd behavior, Annah pulled her work mat to the center of the room and knelt again, taking care to keep both doorways in full view. Iltani is still watching me. I can feel her staring. It’s as if she’s waiting for something. But it’s not like her to be so patient; it’s almost worse than when she screams at me or kicks me.

  Annah tapped the fine powder of sand and wood dust out of the form, sprinkled fresh sand inside, and rubbed it some more. Still she sensed Iltani hovering behind the curtain. Go away! Too agitated to work, she pushed the wooden form away and discarded her mitt. Her hands were shaking, her heart thudding wildly as her fears blossomed into panic.

  She jumped to her feet, snatched her grass bag, and swept her veil over her head. As she edged toward the doorway leading out to Yerakh’s refining pit, Annah glimpsed Iltani coming into the workroom, clenching something in her fist. It was a knife of stone.

  Terrified, Annah backed out of the workroom, keeping her eyes on Iltani’s approaching feet. In the sunlight now, she retreated until something struck her veil-swathed arm. A clod of dirt.

  “Annah,” Yerakh’s voice threatened, “is your work finished so quickly? Go back inside. Do you understand? Back inside!”

  Annah hesitated, trembling, trying to conquer her fear. Rivulets of sweat trickled down her face. I can’t, she told Yerakh in silence. Iltani has a knife.

  Yerakh left the refining pit, crossed the hard-packed dirt ground, and grabbed her arm.

  Annah trembled, wondering, Who is more dangerous? Yerakh or Iltani? As her brother dragged her back inside, Annah glanced around the workroom. Iltani was gone. Obviously, the sound of Yerakh’s voice had frightened her away. And the sense of danger had vanished with her. Annah breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. When Yerakh shoved the wooden form back into her hands and compelled her to sit again, she did not resist. Throwing off her veil, she picked up her leather mitt and resumed her task.

  Yerakh seemed satisfied by her compliance. To Annah’s amazement, he did not strike her for trying to leave the workroom. Instead, he lingered, looking about, muttering noises of disgust. Then he strode into the main room of the lodge, bellowing, “Iltani, you stay out of my workroom! Don’t deny you were in there; I could smell you!”

  Annah heard Iltani protesting from a distance. “I did nothing wrong. I went to check on that worthless creature, and she—”

  “She ran because you disturbed her! You leave her alone, do you hear me? If you go in there again, I’ll beat you the way I beat her.”

  As she listened to her brother’s shouts, Annah thought she would cry. She actually felt grateful to Yerakh.

  Seated in her usual place by the river, Annah glanced up at the sky. Her beloved was late this morning, but she was content to wait and enjoy the sound of the river. She felt healed today. Her bruises had been gone for many weeks, and her ribs no longer hurt when she took a deep breath. Soon she would try to run between the river and the settlement.

  At least I haven’t had to run from Iltani, she thought. I wonder if she still has that knife of stone. Anyway, she’s not sneaking around, staring at everyone the way she did after that meeting. I’m sure she meant to kill someone.

  Annah pushed away thoughts of Iltani and went to work, winding more of the pale flower-fibers on her small, carved shuttle. Today, before leaving the river, she would wash her veil, and tomorrow she would mend it with the new thread. She had been neglecting her veil because of him; he was far more interesting than the veil. Thinking of her beloved, Annah smiled. He is finer than any other man in this settlement. I wish we could marry
. But even if I had the courage to speak, Yerakh would never agree. He would kill me instead.

  As she wrapped the last of her thread onto the shuttle, she sensed him approaching on the opposite shore. The liquid plop of a stone in the water confirmed her senses. She glanced over at him eagerly. His leather tunic was wet, and he wore a thick band of soft leather tied across his brow. Annah indicated the band: Why are you wearing that?

  Answering with his irresistible smile, he pointed upriver on his side, beckoning: Follow me.

  Annah hesitated, questioning him with raised eyebrows and uplifted hands: Why?

  Again he smiled, motioned to her, then pointed upriver: This way.

  He didn’t answer my question, Annah thought, mildly indignant. Wondering at his secrecy, she scooped up her veil and bag, determined to keep pace with him as he hurried along the opposite shore. Now and then, as she straggled through areas of sand, he grinned at her. She wondered if he knew how very persuasive he could be. Encouraged by his glances, she hurried onward. But when they passed the boundaries of the settlement, Annah paused, anxious. He stopped.

  Gesturing upriver, Annah questioned silently: Is it much farther?

  He raised one hand soothingly, then brought his thumb and forefinger almost together in a pinching motion: Only a short distance. His eyes pleading, he urged her to look ahead. There was a bend in the river. Around that bend, he told her, using a sweeping motion. He waited, watching her. Annah understood that he did not want her to continue walking if she was reluctant to pass the boundaries of the settlement.

  She wavered and mimicked his pinching motion: Only a little farther?

  His answering smile and nod reassured her. Rounding the bend of the river, she stopped and gaped, hugging her limp grass bag. Six long, thick ropes hung from one side of the river to the other. Two young men were working in the ropes. One man stood on a log platform anchored precariously in the rushing water, weaving smaller ropes and canes into the side ropes, while the second man straddled the two lowest ropes, weaving stout canes into an emerging footpath. While they worked, an older man, gray and full-bearded, directed them from the opposite bank. His father and brothers, Annah realized. She recognized the young man straddling the lowest ropes—he had been with her beloved the day she nearly threw herself into the river.

  The splash of a stone in the water made Annah look at the opposite bank.

  What do you think? her beloved asked silently, lifting his eyebrows at her, tilting his head toward the bridge.

  Dazed, Annah shook her head weakly, turning to stare at the bridge again. Obviously, they were nearly finished building it. But why a bridge? Motioning at the log platform, she moved her hand back and forth, indicating both sides of the river, then shrugged at the bridge, asking: If you can move back and forth on the river with the floating platform, then why build this bridge?

  Lifting his hands, her beloved shrugged, perfectly serious: I don’t know. He indicated his father with a slight shift of his hand: My father’s idea.

  Annah nodded. Certainly he must obey his father. Keeping her distance, Annah sat down to rest and to watch. Her beloved went to help his father and brothers weave the sides and bottom of the bridge together. The ends of the bridge were bound to four tall trees; two on each side of the river, all reasonably well matched in height and distance. Four long ropes formed the bottom and sides of the bridge, while two longer ropes—suspended halfway up each tree on both sides of the bridge—swept downward to support its center.

  Annah’s beloved picked up a large bundle of canes and a coil of rope. Bracing himself, he hauled them into the current, carefully making his way toward the platform. His other brother—still a stranger to Annah—stretched out one long arm and took the bundle of canes, setting them on the platform before reaching for the coil. As the brothers passed the rope between them, they jostled each other until their father whistled at them sharply from the opposite bank. Chastened, they ducked their heads. Safe on his perch, their younger brother shook a cane at them and cackled, enjoying their disgrace.

  Watching all this, their father gave a visible sigh and shook his graying head in fond exasperation. He loves them, Annah thought enviously. Yerakh would scream at us in a situation like this, then beat us bloody.

  Her wistful envy intensified when she saw the mother of her beloved emerging from the trees on the opposite bank, smiling at her husband and sons. I want to belong to this family, Annah thought suddenly, the longing so fierce it brought tears to her eyes.

  Catching sight of Annah, the mother of her beloved gave her a warm, welcoming smile and walked downriver to stand across from her. She motioned to Annah and patted her own face to convey her thought: Your face looks better.

  Annah nodded agreement, then pressed both hands to her heart and extended them, smiling gratefully: Thank you.

  The mother of her beloved nodded and flicked her hand in a genial, self-depreciating manner. Suddenly—as if remembering something—she lifted her hand, requesting Annah to wait. Hurrying to her husband and sons, she spoke to Annah’s beloved. He had just emerged from the water and was dripping, but when his mother spoke to him, he kissed her, obviously thanking her. She shooed him off, pretending irritation that he had gotten her wet.

  Amused and mystified by this exchange, Annah crept closer to the bridge. Her beloved was rummaging through a small heap of tools and supplies. Triumphant, he found a small leather packet and waved it at Annah, his eyes telling her: This is for you.

  Before Annah could respond, he waded into the water and tossed the packet to his brother on the log platform, who called to the youngest brother to gain his attention. The youngest brother took the packet and grinned mischievously, waving it just long enough to cause his entire family to scream at him to throw the packet to Annah. Turning, he winked at Annah, then shook the packet at her, shouting, “Catch it!”

  Fearing that the contents might be fragile, Annah ran. In her haste, she dropped her veil and bag, and almost tripped as she caught the packet. Her beloved yelled at his brother, clearly annoyed and worried—until Annah straightened up and smiled at him. She felt accepted now … and a little embarrassed, as they were all watching her. Uncertain, she glanced over at her beloved.

  He pointed to the packet: Open it.

  Self-conscious, she sat on a low, grassy bank to pick at the knotted leather cord holding the packet together. Inside she found a broad comb of fragrant wood—patterned in the same manner as her precious shell carving—and a second leather pouch. Opening it, she found an assortment of small tools for her handwork: flat wooden threading needles, tiny metal piercing awls, and a diminutive cutting blade cleverly fitted within a slip of wood to prevent mishaps.

  The fragrant comb was from him; she could tell by the carving. But the tools? She hesitated, lifting them toward his mother, questioning: From you?

  His mother nodded and smiled. Annah thanked her, delighted to have tools of her own. And the comb smelled wonderful, like spices and sweet oils. She tested it shyly in a strand of her hair, then beamed at her beloved, gesturing to her bag: I’ll hide it in here.

  By now he knew that she had been forced to conceal her precious shell carving. He nodded: Yes, hide it.

  After inspecting her new treasures once more, Annah tucked them safely into her grass bag. Her beloved and his brothers returned to their work on the bridge, and their parents lingered, watching them. It was now late morning, but Annah did not want to return to the settlement—to her own joyless, chaotic family.

  I’ll wash my veil, then I’ll go, she decided. It definitely needs to be cleaned now that I’ve dropped it in the sand.

  Taking her veil, Annah started toward the water. Suddenly she felt tremors and heard the sickening groaning beneath the earth. She lunged toward the grass again and clutched at it, terrified. The river churned violently, and the bridge rocked back and forth beneath the motion of its supporting trees. The brothers of her beloved clung to the ropes of the bridge while he and his pa
rents crouched on the opposite shore and waited for the tremors to end. Annah was surprised by their calm acceptance. It’s as if they expect this to happen, she thought, staring at them, openmouthed.

  When the tremors ended, his mother smiled, waved a farewell to Annah, and calmly departed. Equally calm, her beloved grinned at Annah, then went back to work. His youngest brother let out a whoop of celebration, apparently pleased with himself for not falling off the bridge. Despite her fear, Annah smiled.

  After finishing her evening meal, Annah crept into the shadows of the lodge where she could watch her family unnoticed. They were all on edge. Haburah was visiting the wives of Naham, while Naham roamed through the settlement with Yerakh. Annah suspected that Naham’s wives had invited Haburah to their evening meal to warn her that Naham planned to marry her.

  “I’d wager they’re discussing her marriage portion,” Iltani announced, taking another serving of honey cakes and nuts.

  Chathath sneered. “Dear elder sister, how little you know. The wives of Naham have nothing to say about anything. And the only reason Yerakh would ever give Haburah a marriage portion is because he’s afraid Naham will crush his skull—as I hope.”

  “Monster!” Iltani cried.

  “Serpent-Lover!” Chathath retorted, adding, “It’s not helped you, either, kissing those snakes.”

  Glaring, Iltani flung a nutmeat at Chathath. “Shut up!”

  “When you do, elder sister,” Chathath answered, tossing the nutmeat into the fire.

  Parah lifted her hands wearily. “Stop fighting, both of you. I’m tired enough bearing this child; I don’t need you two arguing all the time.”

  Iltani glared at her in pure hatred. “The child again!” she snapped. “You should just spit in my face because you’re bearing one and I’m not!” Throwing down her food, she arose and stalked out the back of the lodge.

  “Nothing has changed,” Ayalah complained. “K’nan is becoming impatient. If I don’t receive a marriage portion soon, he’s going to give up on me. And you, I’ma,” Ayalah confronted Parah. “You’ve heard nothing from Tseb-iy at all since that meeting. You should go after him.”