The Lord said to Abram, “Look as far as you can see in every direction—north and south, east and west. I am giving all this land, as far as you can see, to you and your descendants as a permanent possession. And I will give you so many descendants that, like the dust of the earth, they cannot be counted! Go and walk through the land in every direction, for I am giving it to you.”
So Abram moved his camp to Hebron and settled near the oak grove belonging to Mamre. There he built another altar to the lord.
—Book of Genesis 13:14-18
But the land could not support both Abram and Lot with all their flocks and herds living so close together. So disputes broke out between the herdsmen of Abram and Lot… Finally Abram said to Lot, “Let’s not allow this conflict to come between us or our herdsmen. After all, we are [brethren]!
—Book of Genesis 13:6-8
WE TRAVEL SOUTHEAST FROM ABRAM’S tents through the hills. Lot rides beside my father, talking most of the way. He is a great talker, mostly a great complainer. I stay as far from them as I can. I wish I could simply travel with Raph and Mika and instruct them as we go. In that way, I could fulfill my bargain and obey my father, but that would mean failing my duties. We are short two men, so I must stay with the animals.
At least I have Nami’s presence again, although she periodically runs to the donkey that carried her pups to sniff in worry and hope. I distract her by trying to teach her to keep the stubborn donkeys in a pack. My hand signals confuse her. I am certain she has been trained as a hunter, but I do not know what signals she understands. She knows I want something, but is not particularly interested in herding donkeys. I think she would, however, be happy to chase them, as she is off after any sight of a rustle in a clump of grass.
Danel comes to walk beside me. For the first time, I wonder how he sees me—as the favorite of my father, the caravan master, while he is merely the son of the cook? I cannot help being that, but perhaps it is a source of discontent for him. I have never tried to be nice, as I despise his father, Chiram … but Danel did fight for me, earning a few bruises too.
“Thank you for coming to my aid,” I say stiffly.
“I didn’t ask for your thanks.”
“No,” I reply. “But I give it.”
He grunts, sounding exactly like his father.
“Why did you come to walk with me, then?” I demand.
He shrugs. “I don’t know.” He looks at the sky and the hills. “Well … I came to thank you for asking Eliezer not to report our fighting.”
I laugh. “That was more for me than you.”
He grins, and I am surprised at the happiness that gives me. I do not have friends among the boys of the caravan, perhaps because I need to keep my distance to protect my gender or perhaps because they all resent me as Zakiti’s son, much as the boys of Abram’s camp resent Ishmael.
“I have a grandmother in Sodom,” Danel says.
“Is she nice?”
“She is tiny and frail, but full of spirit.”
I envy the love in his voice.
Danel helps with the donkeys until Chiram calls him away on some errand.
Despite the distraction of Danel’s presence, my belly has stayed in a tight coil at my predicament over Nami. I should obey my father, but he has also taught me to honor my oaths, and I have made one to Nami. She followed me, sacrificing her own pups, and she saved my life. I do not know what to do. I cannot let her future pups be destined for Chiram’s pot.
That night after the evening meal, I claim weariness and pain in my ribs. Neither is a lie. I crawl into my pallet and wait. Father is late coming to the tent and I chafe, but keep my back to the fire. When he calls my name softly, I do not answer.
I wait until his breathing steadies, and then I ease from my bedding, leaving the large lump of stone around which I had curled my body. Satisfied it will be taken for my form in the shadows, I slip out of the tent.
I love the morning, but I also love the night—the stars caught in the gauzy veil spun across the ebon sky.
A hyena coughs and is answered by the stuttering bleat of a doe goat. Not far away, a campfire burns, silhouetting the shape of men that stand between it and me. The wind shifts, and I smell something familiar and not pleasant.
Lot.
“Adir,” he bellows, and I move quickly away from our tent, lest he wake my father. “Where are you off to, boy?”
I shrug.
He squints at me. “Not going to ride out into the night again, I hope?”
“No.”
“El does not tolerate such foolishness. He demands obedience to him through a child’s obedience to his father. Obedience is honor.”
These words feel like an arrow through my throat. Does he know I am disobeying my father as I stand here before him? Does El speak through him? I am not certain whether El is angry, but Abram says he is a jealous god, and I do not wish his anger with me to fall on my father’s back.
“I hear you, Lot, my cousin,” I mumble, looking humbly at the ground.
Chiram approaches. He gives barely a glance, acknowledging my existence without commenting on my worth or lack thereof, and puts a hand on Lot’s shoulder. “You said to call you when we were ready.”
I smell fermented camel’s milk on Chiram’s breath and know he has not waited for Lot.
When their attention is off me, I slip into the shadows and make my way to Raph and Mika’s tent. A stab of pain stops me at the opening, and I press my hand against the bandage. They have lowered their tent sides, though it is a hot night.
“It is Adir,” I say when the pain has subsided. “May I enter?”
“Wait,” I hear, then some shuffling noises. When they bid me to enter, I do not look directly at the bear fur covering the object, but I notice it is not in the same position as the previous nights.
“Adir,” Raph says, “it is late. We thought you not appearing.” He is on his feet, but Mika remains seated, a distant look on his face.
“My apologies for the time,” I say. “My duties kept me. I hope it is not too late for you?”
“Late,” Mika says.
My heart freezes.
Raph rolls his eyes. “No, it not too late. We need words. Come, sit, Adir. I think today I need know many. I told all to my grumpy brother; he remembers better. Truth, Mika?”
Mika scowls at him, which makes Raph grin. “So settled. Sit, Adir.”
And so far into the night, we talk and practice. I stay intent and focused despite the weariness tugging at my bones and the pain in my chest. Finally, Mika holds up a hand. “You are pale.”
I take a careful breath. “I am fine.” I want my goat.
Mika rises and steps before me.
“No,” I say, suddenly panicked. “I am fine. I need only to rest.”
But he ignores my words and kneels beside me. “Lift robe.”
My heart pounds. If my father wakes and finds a stone in my place and me here and Mika’s hands on me—I cannot even complete the thought. Yet Mika is not to be dissuaded. I know this somehow. Unless I jump up and run, which I do not think I can even do, I am trapped.
Reluctantly, I lift my robe the minimum amount, glad I still wear a young boy’s pants beneath it and thus can expose only the bandage. In a move camouflaged to look as if I am merely keeping my free arm out of the way, I press my little breasts flatter than the narrow band I tie around my chest. Surely, they are too small for him to notice, but I want to cover the band as well. Mika’s fingers press against the flesh below it.
I think my heart will burst through the cloth. Dispassionately, he checks the other side. “Too cold,” he snaps and stretches his open palm toward Raph.
With no further instruction, Raph hands him a worn leather bag. From it, Mika selects a slender knife, which he applies to the bandage. There is instant relief when he removes the pressure. Quickly, I lower my tunic. “The bandage felt much better at first.” My voice makes it a question.
“Sometimes swelling,” Mika replies. “Should checked.”
I am not certain if he is blaming me or himself for this.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING I bring my goat to Chiram. His thick brows lift in surprise, and he examines it suspiciously. I am not worried. I picked her out myself, and she is perfect. I step between him and the goat. “For Nami.”
A frown arcs his mouth. He has thick lips like Lot, mostly covered by the black hairs beneath his nose. “She is worth silver, that dog.” With the nail of his last finger, he picks something from between his yellow-stained front teeth. “I won her in a game of senet.”
“You told me that before, but we have a bargain.” I cut the air with the blade of my hand in my father’s gesture.
With a snort that passes for a laugh, Chiram concedes. “All right, the bitch is yours then. Good riddance, I say. She has not brought any silver to me. Just another mouth to feed.”
The thought of touching Chiram makes my skin twitchy, but I press my palm into his to seal our trade.
My heart is lighter than it has been for days when I go to tell Nami. She is less dejected, picking up my mood, though her almond eyes are still sad. If I had my own tent, I could bring her inside. This is the first time it occurs to me to wonder what I will tell my father.