Shelter of the Most High Read online

  Remembering Baz’s instructions, I paused in the shade of one of the newly constructed buildings near the center of town and willed myself into watchful stillness. Focusing on my own heartbeat instead of the cacophony of voices around me, I carefully measured each breath until my galloping pulse slowed.

  I pulled my mantle a bit farther down over my continuously roving eyes and feigned a casual pose, even though every muscle in my body was prepared to spring into action at the first sight of my enemy. I had little doubt I could overpower him, but if I did not see him in time, all my training would amount to nothing. I considered slipping my sling from my belt, but flinging a stone into a crowd, no matter how certain I was of my aim, would be reckless.

  Without warning, an arm slipped around my neck from behind, yanking me into a fierce choke hold that cut off my breath as a low voice growled in my ear. “Did you really think you could sneak into the city and not be recognized . . . Eitan?”

  Cursing myself for leaving any gap between my body and the building behind me, I bucked hard against my captor and slammed him backward into the wall. With a gasp, the man released me, and I spun with a growl, pinning him against the brick with my forearm. Through my furious haze I registered only white Levitical garments and a familiar full-bearded face. However, it was not Nadir’s throat I’d locked in a crushing hold, but that of Tal, my oldest friend.

  Jerking back in shock, I released him. Eyes wide, he curled forward a bit, rubbing at his neck and coughing out a surprised laugh. “Some reunion, my brother. Remind me never to sneak up on you again!”

  Mouth agape, I reached out to grip his shoulder, too shocked to answer. I’d not seen Tal since he’d moved to Shiloh last year, and during my frantic journey southward had not even considered that I might run across him here.

  A playful grin spread across his face. “Did you finally convince Darek to let you out of your cage?”

  Still attempting to force my frenetic thoughts into some semblance of order, I shook my head. “No. . . . No. I’m looking for—” Reminded of my purpose, I broke off and spun back around. Had I missed Nadir in my distraction?

  Tal moved to my side, all delight at my appearance wiped away by concern. “What is wrong?”

  Scanning the crowd again, which was becoming more difficult now that the sunlight was waning, I heaved a frustrated groan through my teeth. “I am looking for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Nadir, a prisoner from Kedesh, is here to kill the High Priest. I have to stop him and have no time to explain.”

  “Tell me how to help,” he said without a whisper of doubt in his voice. I chanced only a brief glance at the man I’d been friends with for more than half my life, confident that he would not question my judgment in the slightest.

  “Go tell Eleazar that there is a man here tonight who is planning to assassinate him. There’s a possibility he is dressed as a Levite.”

  “All right.” Tal took a step forward. “I’ll be right back.”

  I snagged his sleeve and yanked him to a stop. “Wait. No one can suspect that anything is amiss. If Nadir guesses he’s been spotted, he’ll run off.”

  “But we need to move Eleazar to safety.”

  “You can’t do that. Nadir has the woman I plan to marry, and he has killed before. I don’t know what he plans to do with her or where he has hidden her away. . . .” My stomach wrenched painfully. “You must convince the priests to keep this quiet, for her sake. Just tell them to be watchful and stay close to Eleazar.”

  With a solemn nod, he disappeared into the crowd and gratitude flooded me for the answer to a prayer I’d not even known to ask. Although still desperate to find Nadir and Sofea, I breathed a bit easier knowing the priests would be alerted to the danger.

  Although his death would free my mother, and although he was far advanced in years, Eleazar had been extraordinarily compassionate after I’d admitted to killing Zeev and Yared during my mother’s trial. It pierced me through to think of Nadir stealing even one of the man’s God-ordained breaths.

  A large group of women passed in front of me. Carrying trays of fruit, breadbaskets balanced on heads, or pitchers of wine on their hips, they chattered and laughed as they headed toward the gathering place. Impatient for them to move along, I stood on the balls of my feet until they passed, trying to keep the milling Levites in sight, looking for Nadir’s familiar build and carriage among the white-clad men.

  Settling back into position, closer to the building this time, I breathed out a prayer that my eyes would be guided to the one person among this throng who would dare to murder the divinely appointed High Priest of Israel.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Sofea

  Attempting to draw on my heritage as the daughter of a merciless killer, I dragged in a shuddering breath, separated myself from the group of serving girls I’d been walking with, and, with my eyes still downcast, headed for the table of the High Priest. Each wobbly-kneed step that took me closer to my final destination was like plowing through the driving surf at high tide.

  Nadir had forced me to stand in front of the enormous tent the Hebrews called the Mishkan during the animal sacrifices this morning, waiting for the High Priest to exit the beautifully woven purple, blue, and red gates so I would be able to recognize him later. I saw him now, silver-bearded and formidable, about twenty paces away, seated at the center of the head table. Power seemed to radiate from his countenance. Apprehension curled around my stomach and twisted hard, making nausea burn at the base of my throat, but my decision had already been made. I would not sentence my cousin to death.

  For Prezi.

  I swallowed hard and pushed forward. On either side of the priest stood two armed men dressed in white, their eyes roving over the throng of Levites crowded into the gathering area, searching for signs of obvious threat. For his part, the elderly priest seemed relaxed, conversing with another man who sat beside him, unaware that the serving girl who now approached him with a pitcher of wine carried the instrument of his death.

  For Prezi.

  I did not maintain any hope that I would survive this night, whether I succeeded in this mission or not. The only time I remembered a man in my village daring to threaten my father’s life, in hopes of possessing his power and wealth, he’d been gutted in full view of the tribe, a warning to anyone else with such foolish aspirations. His blood-curdling screams still tainted my nightmares. I only hoped the Hebrews would have enough mercy not to torture me before they slaughtered me. Restraining a shudder, I blinked away the images, along with the sting of hot tears.

  For Prezi.

  Ten cumbersome paces lay between the head table and me, and although I fought hard against the impulse, my eyes were again drawn to the man I’d been ordered to kill. His lips were curled in a smile as he listened intently to the man next to him, his silver beard catching the flicker of firelight, and I was immediately reminded of Dov, the priest who’d told us the stories of the Hebrews’ ancestors. I remembered his rich voice as he spun his tales near the fire, his hearty laughter as he joked with Eitan, the way he’d lovingly brushed his scarred palm over his wife’s cheek, and the sight of his smallest granddaughter perched on his lap, tugging at his beard.

  My heart thundered painfully, and my hands and feet went numb. The price of Prezi’s freedom was the death of someone’s husband, someone’s father, someone’s grandfather. And after meeting Dov, I could no longer equate all the priests of Israel to men like my father, who ruled the Sicani according to their whims and those of the bloodthirsty gods they claimed to speak for.

  In that moment, I remembered Prezi’s last words to me, along with the expression of inexplicable peace on her face as Nadir dragged me out of that roofless house in the valley. “Have faith, Sofi. Yahweh brought us here for a purpose. He will provide a way.”

  Truth collided with my soul.

  I was not my father.

  I could not kill a man who served the God who brought
my cousin back to life. I could only pray that somehow he would save her again.

  Even as my resolve snapped into place, I took my last step, closing the gap between the priest’s table and me. The two armed men standing behind him ignored me, not seeing a servant girl, nor the wine in my hands, as any sort of threat.

  With my heart scrambling up my throat and feeble prayers to a God I did not worship unfurling in my mind, I leaned forward to fill the priest’s empty cup, knowing that from somewhere close by, Nadir’s eyes were on me. However, as I did so, my hands trembled so violently that the spout of the wine jug caught on the lip of the cup and knocked it over. Poisoned wine splashed onto the table, spreading over the white linen tablecloth like blood.

  My clumsiness alerted the High Priest to my presence. He turned from his conversation to pick up the clay drinking vessel. I braced for the impact of his targeted attention, the lash of reprimand over my blunder, and an icy stare like the one my father wielded. Instead, warm brown eyes lifted to meet mine. I was stunned to see evidence of kindness within their depths and many lines from their corners that attested to a lifetime of easy laughter.

  “Ah,” he said. “I wondered when my cup would be filled again.” He gestured over his shoulder toward the men standing behind him. “I do believe my guards here are scaring the other serving girls away.”

  “Don’t drink this wine.” The words spilled from my mouth in a whispered torrent. “It is poisoned.” The warmth drained from his eyes, leaving behind shock and bewilderment.

  Desperate for a moment to make him understand, I feigned an attempt at sopping up the spilled wine with the long saffron-colored headscarf Nadir had purchased to hide my distinctive hair. “Please,” I begged without looking up at him. “I had to do this, or my cousin will be killed. The man is watching me now.”

  Silence reigned for the length of ten violent heartbeats, each one stretched to a lifetime.

  “Pour the wine,” he said, causing my astonished gaze to meet his again. “Half a cup is plenty.” A contrived smile was on his lips as his fingers hovered over the rim of the vessel.

  My eyelids fluttered and my breath shuddered in my chest. Holding the jug with both hands this time to control my shaking, I obeyed.

  “Thank you,” he said, tipping the lethal cup to me as if in true gratitude.

  Aghast, I watched him lift the cup and tilt his head back as if savoring a long draft of wine. Then with a loud, artificial sigh of satisfaction, he wiped his mouth with one knuckle, brushing away any trace of poison that may be on his lips.

  “I’ll wait a while to feign my death,” he said with a wry grin. “But I would suggest you do not go far. You and I have much to discuss, young woman.” These last words, although softly spoken, made it clear that regardless of the kind eyes that had first greeted me before he knew my treachery, the full weight of his power as the High Priest of Israel would be unleashed upon me tonight.

  With a palm on my chest, I nodded my head, ceding to his authority, and backed away as he twisted around to rejoin the ongoing conversation with the oblivious men seated to his left, as if completely unaffected by our quiet, yet monumental, interaction.

  My limbs vibrated with bone-deep exhaustion as I walked away. Once I was outside the glow of firelight and the press of bodies, I found a space between two buildings and slipped into the cove of shadows. Realizing that I still carried the tainted wine, I tipped the remainder onto the ground beside me, ignoring the splash of it on my bare toes, and then with my back against the nearest wall, I slid down into the dirt, let my head drop to my knees, and sobbed. Yahweh may have saved the High Priest of Israel from death tonight, but I had little hope that I would see the morning.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-TWO

  Eitan

  The flood of Levites moving toward the gathering began to slow as the sun slipped behind the western hills. Frustration mounted as I warred with myself over whether to abandon my post and go search among the milling revelers, or stay where I was in case Nadir had yet to walk by.

  A sudden commotion at the center of town snagged my attention, but I was far enough away that I could only hear a few men shouting. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. Was I too late? Had Nadir already completed his heinous mission? And if Eleazar was dead, what did that mean for Sofea?

  Despondent over the priest who’d been so kind to me when I was a child, I stood paralyzed and helpless, watching a few of the white-clad men begin running toward the upheaval.

  Yet one seemed to be going against the tide, his head down and his wide shoulders jostling his tribesmen as he made his way toward the gates. Twilight muted his features, but there could be only one reason that a Levite would be heading out of Shiloh instead of farther in during an assassination attempt. It was Nadir. I was certain of it.

  Securing my mantle over my head, I followed, determined not to let the traitor from my sight until he led me to Sofea. Only then would I ensure that he was held accountable for both his crimes.

  He strolled out of Shiloh, the guards not even turning their heads to watch the killer in Levite garb pass through the gates. Thankfully, the ruckus over Eleazar had not yet reached their attention, or the enormous wooden gates would have been shut against my exit as well.

  Blocked by a group of last-minute stragglers heading toward the festival, I kept my gaze locked on my quarry, attempting to keep calm as I waited for the chattering revelers to pass through the gates so I could break free of the crowd and give chase.

  Within fifteen paces, Nadir’s leisurely pace had quickened to a trot, and by the time I was free of the gates he was well on his way down the narrow road and all too quickly getting away.

  With only the count of three breaths to make a decision, I slid my loaded sling from my belt and swung, confident that my guess about his identity was correct and that my aim was true.

  Without waiting to see whether my target had faltered, I swiped a larger rock from the side of the road and then broke into a run while reloading and slinging it toward the purpled blur of his white garment against the dusk. This time I heard Nadir cry out when my shot hit, and even in the dim light I saw him stumble to the ground.

  Just as he lurched to his feet I was on him, my full weight slamming into the man I’d revealed my most guarded secret to only a little over a week ago. We fell to the ground, grappling. With the amount of fury racing through my blood, I easily bested him, one knee pinning his elbow down and the other on his heaving chest.

  He gasped for breath, attempting to push me off. “It’s done, Eitan. There’s nothing you can do now.”

  My stomach cinched tight, and I slammed his shoulder against the ground. “Where’s Sofea?” He did not answer, so I slid my dagger from my belt and pressed it to the place where Baz had shown me that a man’s pulse throbbed in his neck.

  “I’ll send you back to Liora in pieces.” I pressed the tip of my knife deeper, feeling immense satisfaction at his hiss of pain. “Where is she?”

  “There’s nothing to be done for her. The priest is dead. Sofea made sure of that.” The victorious grin that spread across his lips was a thing of pure evil. My pulse shuddered to a stop, and my vision tunneled for one long horrific moment. Sofea had killed the High Priest?

  “WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?” My words came out in a roar as I twisted the point of my knife into his skin, perversely delighted to see blood well beneath the blade and barely restraining the temptation to drive it home.

  Nadir paled a bit at the unbridled fury in my expression. “If you don’t let me go, Raviv will kill Prezi too.”

  The revelation struck hard, making me almost bleary-eyed with confusion.

  “Raviv? How did you . . . ?”

  He scoffed. “You thought you guarded your little secret so well, didn’t you? I knew before I ever offered to help you in the foundry, fool.”

  Not only was Nadir a liar and a murderer, he had been colluding with the man who’d vowed to hunt my mother and me down, all
while enjoying her hospitality and working beside me every day for months. Just as the threads of their warped conspiracy began to untangle in my mind, two of the guards from the gate yanked me off Nadir, snarling at me to drop my weapon.

  “He was involved in the death of Eleazar!” I yelled as the guards twisted my arms behind my back and Nadir scrambled to his feet. “Don’t let him run!”

  Thankfully, another swarm of armed men encircled us, preventing his escape. Three torches burned among them, affording enough light for me to see Nadir lift a hand to his temple, wincing from pain. A large welt had appeared where my stone had struck him down, and blood trickled down his neck. A twisted sense of pride made my lips curl upward as I glared at the coward until he looked away.

  “Why would a Levite want to kill Eleazar?” asked one of the guards.

  “He’s not a Levite. He’s a manslayer from Kedesh.”

  “So are you!” Nadir spat out. “A killer of two little boys.”

  I struggled against the guards, eager to add another victim to my account, but then I heard a familiar voice above the rush of blood in my ears.

  “Take them into custody,” said Tal, his expression grim, the flash of concern in his eyes barely discernible as he looked me over. “The High Priest wants to speak to both of them.”

  Shock slackened my jaw, and I ceased my endeavor to break free of my captors. “He is alive?”

  “Indeed.” Tal’s voice remained unaffected, as if we’d not spent our boyhood spitting over the walls of Kedesh together, whacking at each other with wooden swords, and sneaking sweet treats from my mother’s kitchen.

  Nearly weak with relief at the news that Eleazar lived, I silently cheered Tal’s caution. It would not do to explain our friendship to the men who surrounded us now. He may have been shy and softhearted growing up, but no one’s wits were sharper. I trusted him implicitly.

  Chancing a glance at my friend as the guards bound my hands together and divested me of my weapons, I lifted a brow. Conversation flowed wordlessly between us, a practice born of eleven years of blood-oath brotherhood. Is she safe?