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  “They were carrying a written message that made it clear there is a new alliance of some sort in the works,” said Malakhi. “But we aren’t certain who the message was meant for, or with whom the Arameans might be plotting. It could be Egypt. Or Tyre or Sidon. Or perhaps even the Philistines. We need solid information about who is involved and what they plan to do.”

  “If the men you’ve already sent in to Shechem are ineffective,” said my father, “perhaps you should send in someone new. You can only intercept so many messages, and even with Rivkah’s skill in translating those messages, you have no way of knowing which are true and which are decoys. You need someone to burrow deep inside and keep ears on the commander himself.”

  A huff of air escaped my lips as hope flickered deep inside. Me! Send me! But having been so caught up in the conversation, I’d forgotten to slip into the shadows, and Malakhi looked up at me with a curious arch to his brow. “Did you need something, Tirzah?”

  I dropped my eyes to the skin of wine in my hands, fumbling for a convincing excuse as to why I was lurking at the edge of their circle, listening to their war-talk. “I . . . I wanted to offer you more of those pistachio cakes Ima made. I think there are a few pieces left that the children did not devour.”

  In that moment, my conjured excuse somehow paired with my father’s suggestion, and a clear idea of how I could prove my usefulness began to form—an idea that was as dangerous as it was brilliant, but one that I felt sure would yield the results they needed. However, I clamped my lips shut against the temptation to let it spill out of my mouth right then. The four of them together would quash my proposal without a second thought, and I would not waste my breath until I was armed for the fight.

  Besides, as the commander of the unit, it was Malakhi alone who I needed to convince, both to train me for the mission and to keep it from my parents until the time was right.

  The secret twitched on my lips even as they heartily agreed to my offer and I slipped away to retrieve the cakes, but I could already taste victory on my tongue. Because I was nothing if not skilled at convincing my doting older brother to capitulate to my whims.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  20 Tishri

  I crept through the tent flap and emerged into the feeble predawn light. A shiver slipped down my back as chill morning air hit my skin. I was tempted to duck back inside and retrieve a warm woolen mantle but decided there was no need; I’d be warm soon enough. I gathered my hair into a tight braid and then roughly scrubbed my hands over my face to chase the remaining fatigue from my mind. I’d waited over two weeks, until the grape harvest was complete, but now I finally had the chance to prove myself, and I could not afford to be anything but arrow-sharp today.

  Bending over, I reached for the bottom of my tunic and yanked it between my legs until it reached my waist. Then, with the expertise of a girl who’d spent her early years racing against the boys through the fields of Kedesh, I girded my loins by tucking the hem securely into my belt. It had been years since I’d done such a thing, so my first few steps were awkward, but by the time I’d slipped past the tree line into the woods at the back of the vineyard, I remembered how much flexibility such an arrangement gave me. Now I could stretch my legs farther, maneuver quicker, and jump obstacles with ease—actions that were imperative to my goals this day. Convincing Malakhi to allow me to be one of his spies would take more than just a race through the woods, but first I would remind him of my capabilities.

  My breath huffed out before me in great white clouds as I moved through the trees, and my bare toes already ached from the cold, but I shoved those concerns from my mind. Although it had been years since I’d followed Malakhi and his men over the backside of the hill behind the vineyard and into the depths of the woods, I found the narrow path with ease, my eyes easily adjusting to the dim. A nightingale warbled farewell to the stars from the heights of a nearby cedar, the mournful sound dissolving into the icy breeze that lashed a few brown leaves across my path.

  Holding my hand to my face, I breathed heat into the curve of my palm, hoping to thaw my nose as I listened for the sound of feet, the crack of a twig—anything that might hint at my quarry’s presence.

  When I’d nearly given up, thinking that Malakhi had chosen a different course for his men to run today, a flock of blackbirds suddenly startled into the sky about fifty paces southeast from my position, so I headed to the north of that spot, picking up speed with every footfall. As determined as I was to cut across their path, I ignored the whip of brush clawing at my bare legs and the press of sharp stones under my soles, fully accepting that I’d pay the price later but thankful that at least I was no longer shivering.

  Malakhi’s men were trained in stealth, their feet sure and their bodies honed for endurance, but nonetheless I found them, ghosting through the trees, dodging trunks and low branches, stretching their long legs over rocks and logs, and breathing with such precision that only tiny white streams of frozen air slipped from their lips.

  Heart pattering with nerves as much as exertion, I plunged in among them, weaving into their group without a word and keeping my eyes trained on my brother, who led the silent chase through the woods. Malakhi was now past his thirtieth year, but he ran with the agility of a youth and all the skill and tenacity of the warrior he was. He was a born leader. The men he commanded obeyed him without question, their respect earned in battle and their love by his uncompromising devotion to our people and our God. And I would not give up until I was one of them.

  From the corner of my eye I noticed Eitan’s head whip around as I passed him. Although pleased that I’d outpaced my long-legged oldest brother, I refused to look his way or acknowledge the silent questions undoubtedly being hurled at my back. I dodged a few more trees, then hurdled over a fallen one and sucked in a breath as I landed on a pinecone; but I did not break stride as I passed up three more men, including Eitan’s two oldest boys, Yoni and Zekai. Although only sixteen and seventeen, they had recently begun training with their father in anticipation of their twentieth year, when they’d be allowed to join the fight.

  My shins ached and my thighs quivered, but I pressed on, calling up the helplessness I’d felt before the Arameans two weeks ago and using it to drive myself onward as the dawn began to push above the farthest ridge. I embraced the pain and named it victory.

  When Malakhi slackened his pace, slowing to a jog before he trotted to a halt, I was disappointed, wishing for just a few more moments of the freedom I’d reveled in as I ran unfettered for the first time in years.

  I was not the first of the runners to catch up to Malakhi; six other men stood at my brother’s side as I skidded to a stop, but I was by no means the last. Although I felt like tipping my head back and crowing, I held my expression as I approached, valiantly pushing aside the shaking in my muscles and the urge to gulp for air. Seven pairs of eyes tracked my movement until I stood before the group, chin high and gaze steady.

  “Tirzah,” said Malakhi, frustratingly unruffled by my appearance. “What are you doing?”

  Forcing my harried breaths into a slow rhythm, I shrugged a shoulder. “Running with you. Like I used to. Before Eliya.”

  A deep wrinkle formed between his black brows, one I’d not noticed before now on his handsome face. It was not only my father who was showing signs of age lately; perhaps the burden of Malakhi’s responsibility was weighing on him. “Why?”

  Feeling the tension emanating from the twelve men who now encircled me, I braced my body for the fight that was sure to come. “I want to go to Shechem.”

  Malakhi’s head reared back and his silver eyes flared wide. “You what?”

  I fixed my jaw like iron and refused to soften my stance. “You need a spy in the commander’s house. Send me.”

  Exclamations came from all around the circle, a mixture of scoffing, breathy laughter, and from Eitan a sharp “no”—all of it in defiance of the strict orders they had to keep to a hush during this predawn t
raining. But I did not move, I did not turn my head to defend myself, and I did not waver as I stared at Malakhi with intense determination.

  “Go on back,” Malakhi said, his voice ringing with the same authority my father’s had when he’d been the commander of this unit.

  At first I thought he was addressing me, but then his eyes lifted over my shoulder and swept around the group. “Training is over for the day. I need to speak with my sister. And keep this to yourselves.”

  As the men silently filtered back into the forest, most likely mocking me as they headed back to their tents, Eitan strode to my side and yanked my arm to force me to look at him. “What are you thinking, Tirzah? You may have had some fun running with us when you were a girl, or slinging stones and climbing trees, but you are not a man—”

  Malakhi lifted a palm, halting Eitan’s tirade. “Let me.”

  Steam billowed from Eitan’s lips into the chill, his hazel eyes burning like coals. My oldest brother was extremely protective of me and had been for as long as I could remember, so I understood his irritation with my outrageous request. But I would not capitulate.

  “I’ll handle this,” said Malakhi. “Go on back.”

  Eitan pursed his lips and shook his head at me.

  “Go,” said Malakhi, abandoning his previously commanding tone as he addressed our elder brother. A mischievous grin curved his lips. “Crawl back under the blankets with your wife for awhile while I sort this out.”

  Eitan huffed, still glaring at me, but soon his annoyance melted into a soft laugh. “I think I’ll do just that. While you two freeze your noses off talking nonsense, Sofea will warm me up.”

  He wiggled his brows suggestively, so I screwed my face in disgust and shoved his shoulder. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he poked a finger between my ribs and then sauntered off, assured that Malakhi would talk me out of my notions of spying.

  “You have enough children for now,” Malakhi called out, his voice taunting. “Let Rivkah and me catch up.” Eitan’s laughter trailed behind him as he disappeared into the trees.

  “You’re both terrible,” I said, but I could not keep the affection from my tone. I adored the way both of my brothers cherished their wives and doted on their children. Neither of them were perfect by any means, but they were men of honor and devoted to their families.

  “All right,” sighed Malakhi. “Now what is this absurdity about Shechem? I thought you were spying on us that night around the fire, and now I know why.”

  Feeling gooseflesh prickle on my now-wobbly legs, I unwound my tunic hem from my belt and brushed the fabric back down over my knees. “You said you need someone who can get close. Much closer than the men you’ve already sent in. I have a plan.”

  He shook his head. “I am not sending my sister into a hornet’s nest. Forget this.”

  “I won’t.” I gritted my teeth. “I spent all of my younger years practically training alongside you. Running. Shooting. Wrestling. Sword-fighting. I may not be a man, but for a woman I am more than capable. I’ve wasted a few years, of course, but it won’t take long for me to get back into the form I was in before I married.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but I was quicker.

  “I have much to learn, I know. But I am the daughter of one of the most talented spies our people have ever had. You may have noticed me listening the other night because I was not trying to be that careful, but next time you won’t know I am there, I guarantee it. I will train hard. I will do anything you ask of me—anything, without argument. But I can do this, Malakhi.”

  With his chin tilted to the side, he kept his one good eye pinned on me, searching my face intently—for what I could not guess—but I could tell that he was wavering by the softening of his mouth and the contemplative expression on his face.

  “You have plenty of men in your company who can get into Shechem,” I continued. “But for this task you need something different. You need a cook who can go into the high commander’s home every single day without suspicion, who can serve at the Aramean’s table and keep her ears and eyes wide open as she does so. You need a woman who understands the importance of this mission and yet is unmarried and without children. You need me.”

  Since the day I’d spoken to my father about remarriage, I’d only become more convinced that since Yahweh had not seen fit to give me children, this was the path he’d determined for me. I may never be a mother, but I could fight to ensure that Imri and the rest of my nieces and nephews lived without fear and that future generations would enjoy the Land of Promise in freedom and peace.

  “Let me be of service to Israel, Malakhi. Let me fight against the monsters who slaughtered Eliya and tossed his body into a ditch with the refuse.” My voice quavered, but I swallowed the emotion and forged ahead. “Like you said, the time is now to take a stand against Kushan. Now, when Othniel has been making so much progress. If our generation does not throw off these chains soon, there will be nothing left of us. I may be a woman, but I am ready and willing to stand for Yahweh.”

  The speech had poured out of me in a torrent, each word growing stronger as I spoke, and my body had warmed with the heat of my passion—passion I didn’t even know I’d been harboring. By the time I finished, Malakhi stood blinking at me, his jaw slack, looking nearly as shocked by my outburst as I was.

  He lifted a hand and scrubbed at his forehead, as if it pained him. “You . . . you want to go in and cook?”

  “Yes. Ima has taught me more than enough to secure a position in the commander’s kitchen. And I’ve been around you and your men enough to know that lips loosen when the wine and beer flow.”

  He narrowed his eyes, that new wrinkle making another appearance. “No. No, it’s not safe.”

  “You already have men in the city, don’t you? They can watch over me. And I’ll be with the other cooks, so I won’t be alone. Ima has trained me well; I’ll have no problem making myself invaluable in the kitchen. And you’ll teach me to protect myself, should anything go awry.”

  He growled under his breath. “This is foolish.”

  Whether he meant my idea or the fact that he was considering my idea, I wasn’t sure, but I plowed ahead. “Please, Malakhi. Train me. If you don’t feel comfortable with my skills, then you don’t have to use me. But give me a chance to prove myself. This is the only way I can fight for my people’s freedom. I need to do this.”

  He stared off into the distance, his jaw twitching as he considered my argument, letting silence fall between us. As the sun lifted higher in the sky, the birds and insects began to fill the space with song, and the longer Malakhi went without saying no, the larger my hopes swelled.

  “Eitan will kill me,” he said, his silver eyes glittering in the soft morning light. “And then Baz and Abba will flog my dead body.”

  Glee rippled through me, and I grabbed his arm. “You’ll do it? You’ll let me go?”

  He pressed his lips so tight they went white, as if he were fighting against the words. “I’ll train you—”

  I threw my arms around him and squeezed, cutting him off. “Oh, thank you, Malakhi. I won’t let you down. I’ll work so hard, I promise. I won’t give you any cause to doubt that I am ready for this.”

  He pressed me back to look into my eyes. “I said I will train you, Tirzah, but it’s not just me you’ll have to convince if this is to work. You’ll have to prove your worth to the entire team. You’ll have to convince all of us that you are deserving of our trust and that you are fully capable of protecting yourself without hesitation before I will let you step one tiny toe in that city.”

  “I vow to you that I will do all of that and more.”

  “And you’ll obey my every command? Keep your smart remarks to yourself? Forget that I am your brother and respect me as your absolute superior?”

  If Eitan, who was eleven years Malakhi’s senior, could submit himself to his younger brother’s command, then I certainly could. Besides, Malakhi and I had always had an easy relation
ship. He understood me better than anyone, and I trusted him implicitly. I dipped my chin with a firm nod. “I will.”

  “If we do this, you cannot breathe a word to anyone else beyond Eitan,” he said, a weighty note of authority in his tone. “Until I determine whether you are fit for such a mission, none of the other men are to know you are even training. Understand?”

  “Without question,” I responded.

  He heaved another long-suffering sigh, his gaze flying upward. “Once Baz and Abba are finished with me,” he mumbled under his breath, “Ima will put me in a stew.”

  Overjoyed by his capitulation, I tugged at his arm with a laugh. “Come on, I’ll race you back. Perhaps Rivkah is waiting to warm you up too.” I winked and broke into a run, enjoying the sound of my brother’s laughter at my back.

  For as light as my heart felt while my feet swished through the underbrush headed for home, the gravity of this moment was not lost to me. No woman among our people had ever done anything like this, and I was determined that Malakhi would never regret giving me the chance.

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  Liyam

  25 Tishri

  Near Arad, Israel

  A song of victory vibrated in my bones as the three hills that encircled our valley appeared ahead on the horizon. The walk from Hebron had been a miserable one—grit coating my tongue and stinging my eyes, the armor on my body still encrusted with the blood of my enemies—but I lengthened my stride toward home as I imagined its terraced hillsides painted with gold and green trees that would soon scatter their leaves, and the wheat fields waiting to be plowed and sown. The nearby wadi beckoned as we passed by, calling me to wash in its stream-fed pool and allow its hidden waterfall to rinse weeks of war from my skin. Yet no amount of fresh, cool water could ever flush the smell of death from my nostrils, the sound of battle-anguish from my ears, nor the feel of my blade dispatching the wounded into the embrace of their powerless gods.