There were the giants famous from the beginning that were of so great stature, and so expert in war.…
—The Book of Baruch
THE WORLD SPINS, AND I am only semi-aware of walking, supported on either side by men whose headdresses protect all but their eyes from the swirling dust. Bodies lie strewn across the ground, and we must navigate around them. Nami presses against my calf, and that alone would have sent me sprawling to kiss the ground if hands were not holding me upright. I try to think through the haze in my mind. Are these raiders or Yassib’s men?
The wind is strong. My headdress is gone, and bits of grit sting my face, making me wish for the camel’s extra milky lid and long lashes. I blink. Through the dust, figures approach and I recognize the shape of a very tall man among them.
Yassib’s clan has become a camp again, though only a few tents are back up. We are not moving out today.
Mana and one of her older daughters rush out to relieve me from the men’s arms. Yassib’s tent is one of those reassembled, and I stumble between the women to my mat, which has been laid out for me. Then I am down. My eyes close, but I drift in and out of sleep.
When they open again, I see Nami curled with her head across my foot. Alert to my movement, she pricks her ears, thumping her tail twice on the hard ground to tell me she is happy I am back.
“How you feel, Adir?” The voice is Mika’s. He sits cross-legged just out of my line of vision, and I have to twist my head to see him.
“Thirsty.”
He moves closer and helps me sit up to drink. I take the bowl of water from him, grateful that my hands are steady. The tent flap is rolled up, which means the dust storm has passed.
He has me move arms and legs and starts to feel my ribs, but I push his hands away. “I am fine.”
He does not insist. “Does it hurt to breathe?”
“No.” I take another long swallow. “What has happened?”
“Good question. I heard shouts and noise, but saw men rushing after cloud of dust. I followed, but most of battle finished and camels returned to camp. Then you brought in, and I waiting for you to waken.”
I tell him about Shem, my wild ride, and the fall.
His face pales. “Why you do such a foolish thing, Adir?”
His question hangs in the air. I take another swallow of water and try to explain. “The weaving that ignorant raider used as a pad. It slipped off when he did.”
“You risked life for of a piece of cloth?”
I took a breath. “It was the cloth I bought in Sodom.”
His eyes widen as the meaning of that settles in his mind. “It was among goods stolen by those who took Raph?”
I nod.
He is perfectly still, except for the pulse that quickens in his neck.
“Yes,” I say, my voice hard as stone. “The raiders who took Raph and killed my father.”
Before another word is spoken between us, Mana appears at the tent’s entrance. “A traveler has come, asking for you by name and description. He seeks a tall fire-haired man and a boy. He has touched our tent pole and asked for hospitality, but Yassib has suspicions he might be one of the men who mean ill toward you.” She looks me full in the eyes. “You saved my grandson and our herd. We will not allow harm to fall upon you.”
My thoughts are racing. No one is chasing us; that was just the story I told to keep Yassib from cutting my throat in outrage at my trickery. It was a made-up tale, but—I glance at Mika—could there be some truth to it? What do I truly know about the business of Mika and Raph?
“Someone has come looking for me or us,” I say, translating. “Could it be someone wishing you harm?”
He is thoughtful. “If they have learned Raph was not useful, they might come for me.”
I turn back to Mana, “Thank you for your warning. Can you describe the man?”
“He is thick-bodied, with black hair and a full beard. A lot of hair and thick brows, also black. A gravelly voice.”
“Chiram!” I stagger to my feet, and Mika moves quickly beside me, a hand under my arm, in case I am dizzy.
“Chiram?” he says, confused.
“The cook from my caravan.”
“Do you trust this man?” Mana asks.
I hesitate. Since I was a child, I have found Chiram distasteful. He was with the caravan before my birth and has never said a kind word to me. Yet, my father often trusted the caravan to him, and he had been wounded fighting the raiders. I bite my lower lip, and my mind spins, still not recovered fully from my fall. Chiram’s wound was not a serious one. How hard had he fought to protect my father? Was the raid of Lot’s tent a random happening or had they come looking for El’s messengers and perhaps the mysterious box they carried? How had they known Mika and Raph traveled with us? It suddenly seems odd Chiram had gone off to gamble with desert men after the two strangers joined us on our journey to the tents of Abram.
Troubled, I say, “I am not certain if we can trust this man. Please ask Yassib not to kill him, but not to grant him hospitality either, until we can learn if he is with the men who wish us harm.”
If Yassib gave Chiram hospitality, he would be obliged to protect him, although Yassib had almost violated that most sacred code and killed me. Perhaps, if the moment had been allowed to play out without my inventiveness, he would have stayed his knife, bound by desert code, but I am glad not to have relied on it.
Mana nods and disappears in a whirl of black dress.
Mika, seeing I am steady, drops his hand from my arm. “What she say?”
He rubs his chin. “It seems you making habit, Adir.”
“What habit?”
“Of saving lives. Now Shem and I both owe ours.”
I do not want his life. I want my father back. I want—my thoughts stop on their way to proclaiming my love for Raph. Do I truly love him? Now, after so much has happened, I am not certain. I am not even certain what love is. It is not a necessary ingredient for marriage, though desert tribes are famous for their poems of love for women … and camels.
I can imagine Shem telling a love poem about his white camel. Mika cocks his head at me when I break into a laugh. “I confuse words?” he asks.
As out of place as my laughter is, it is difficult to stop. I wipe a tear from my eye. “No, you spoke well. Let us go see Chiram.”