"Covenant Waters - Chapter 2 (revised)" by Rachel ´Saya´ Lamine

Covenant Waters
By Rachel Lamine

Chapter II 

I lay my forehead against the cool table, allowing my weighted eyelids to fall shut.   Only now, after hours of waiting and watching, did I permit my body to succumb to exhaustion.

It had been a long night, but the wounded man had seen little of it, as he’d fallen into a deep sleep soon after Arthek and Jabrin disappeared.  The sleep didn’t worry me.  Healing always drained the patient considerably more than I would have liked—and I could sense the injuries to his head had not been internal.  His external injuries, to my bewilderment, were not widespread either.  He had suffered minor cuts and bruises across most of his body, as well as one larger gash traversing his right thigh—there had been quite a bit of blood when I discovered it as it seemed to have clotted and then reopened when he was moved.  The worst, though, had been a few cracked ribs and a broken arm, which I had immediately set and healed.  With rest, the bone would mend and he would be completely restored in less than a fortnight.  Someone had been protecting him during the quake.  A normal man would have been crushed.

The remainder of my night had been spent in a futile attempt to remove the blood from my dress and the bed sheets.  The rag I had held against his wounds was beyond salvaging and I had hastily thrown that away.  The house had been eerily silent, with only the usual sounds of night life to interrupt the stillness —the clank of a guard’s boots on the stone street, the clatter of a lone horse and wagon.  Knowing Jabrin was gone and Aramia, Keshol and I, three women, were alone with a strange man was the worst of it.  My brother’s carelessness infuriated me.  Before they left, taking along our five servants, my parents had charged Jabrin to oversee the operations of the household.  Jabrin had never been responsible for anything, and I had been incredulous when my father left him in charge.  He had been hoping that with everything under his care my brother would straighten out.  He had been wrong.  Only a month later, Jabrin seemed to have forgotten his obligation entirely.  I knew it was the influence of Maya and Arthek.

“Deshereh?” a tentative voice jerked me from my fatigued thoughts.  I sat up, bleary-eyed, my mind jumbled with sleep.  Keshol stood beside me, her honeyed eyes wide with apprehension.  “Who’s that?”

“What?” I said stupidly, not bothering to stifle an earsplitting yawn, “who’s who?”

My sister’s eyes wavered nervously between me and something behind my head.  “The man on the bed.  Who is he?”

“Oh,” I said, mentally berating myself for my moment of stupidity.  I swiveled on the stool to face the sleeping man.  “There was a quake last night.  The rose statue fell on top of him.  Jabrin found him and Arthek freed him and brought him here.  I healed him.  With rest he will be restored to health.”\

“There was a quake last night?” Keshol asked, moving toward the bed to peer down at the man.  “Really?  I didn’t hear it.”

I laughed.  “You didn’t hear it?  I suppose that’s not a terrible thing, to be able to sleep through a quake like that.”

My youngest sister shrugged, treaded across the room to the lone window and drew back the curtain.  A blinding stream of morning sunlight deluged the room, glinting off her long hair which hung loosely down her back.  Keshol and I took after our father, from the obsidian color of our hair, to the olive complexion and dark, turned up eyes.  Aramia and Jabrin were lighter, like our mother, their eyes displaying less of a tilt.  And Aramia was gorgeous.  I couldn’t say the same for the rest of us.

“Why is he tied to the bed?” Keshol asked suddenly.  One of her hands rested against the lengths of brown cord twined around the man’s arms and legs and firmly secured to the bed posts.

“Oh, that.”  I shrugged, a wave of embarrassment flushing my face.  “I did that.  I was alone last night.  We have no idea who he is.  I didn’t want him getting up and killing us while we slept.”

Keshol smiled, coming back to sit by me.  “Not a bad idea, especially with the story of Merchant Kadubek and his family being murdered in their beds floating around.  Did you know, he owed a lot of money to—”

“Arthek,” I finished hastily for her. “I know.”

“Sorry,” she said, noting my grimace, “I forgot he’s friends with Jabrin.”

I nodded, my eyes resting vacantly on the strange man.  I did not want to be reminded of Arthek’s shady background.  It seemed his presence was always to hang over me like a blood-sucking mosquito, weather he was at hand or not.  I wet my lips.  The wounded man looked peaceful, laying there in sleep.  Besides being injured and tied to the bed, I vaguely envied him. 

“Where is Jabrin, since we’re talking about him?” My sister perched beside me on another stool, absently playing with a loose strand of hair.

“I don’t know.”  Annoyance and fear returned in a rush of memories.  “He left with Arthek last night.”\

Keshol said nothing, but I could feel her unhappiness hovering in the air like a knife.  I knew she looked up to our brother more than anyone else she knew, not even our father, and that worried me.  Jabrin was supposed to be a man, now, according to custom, but custom did not dictate weather he acted like one.  Didn’t he know his example would affect more than just himself?

It angered me that he kept company with the likes of Arthek and Maya.  It was true that both possessed unmatched stores of wealth and political standing, but their lives were shadowed with rumor and trepidation.  Besides that, they were Nephilim, and I had never trusted a Nephil farther than I could throw the rose statue.  Their sense exuded fear and dread, their eyes always cold and devoid of emotion.

“Do you like Arthek?” I asked abruptly, praying I knew what her answer was.

“No.  Not particularly.  He isn’t very nice to you or me.  And with all those horrid stories about him…”  She shuddered.

I smiled in relief.  I knew she couldn’t sense what I did, but her instinct was better than Aramia and Jabrin’s were.  She was young.  My mother used to say that children could see the truth better than any of us.  “Good.  I don’t like him either.”

Silence fell between us and I turned my eyes to the man on the bed, studying the now familiar angles of his face, from the high forehead to the well shaped cheekbones and jaw.  The night had been long and I was more than curious about this unfortunate stranger.  Keshol sat quietly for a few moments, before standing and padding lightly out of the room.  I followed her with my eyes, watching as the curtain fell in place across the door.  I realized too late that I should have asked her to bring a cup of water and something to eat.  The relationship between Keshol and I wasn’t as close as I would have liked.  I loved her with all my heart, but we had never bonded well.  It was nice to know, though, that I had an ally against Arthek, and Jabrin and Aramia’s blatant worship of him, in the house. 

I turned back toward the bed.  My heart slammed into my throat.  I opened my mouth to say something, but not words came.  The stranger’s eyes were open, dark and full of intelligence, confusion and fear simmering in their depths.  He groaned and flexed his arms, but they were securely knotted in place.

“You’re awake,” I managed to choke out after a few moments of strangled silence.  The man’s head swiveled sharply.

He stared at me for a moment, his dark eyes blankly perplexed. “I am awake,” he repeated slowly, testing the sound of his voice in the quiet room.   It was deep and not unpleasant.

My gaze dropped awkwardly to the surface of the table.  “A statue from our roof fell on you during the quake last night,” I said in a nervous rush.  “We dug you out and brought you here.  I tended your wounds.  A broken arm, a few cuts and gashes and cracked ribs was the full extent of the damage.  You were very lucky.”

The stranger groaned again and laid his head against the pillow.  “The quake,” he mumbled, “there was a quake wasn’t there.  I shouldn’t have gone out like that…” He glanced up.  “Where is here, exactly?”\

“Guidon Street, North Enoch,” I said slowly, “this is the house of my father.”

“Alright, then, why am I tied up?” He pulled at the ropes and grimaced as the cord bit into his wrists.

I bit my lip, a flush of embarrassment rising to my cheeks.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t know who you were.  I didn’t want you waking and doing something without my knowledge.”

“Good idea,” he murmured dryly, his eyes surveying the small room before coming back to rest on me.  I felt anxious beneath his probing eyes.

“Well,” I prompted, moving back to sit on the stool, more out of nervousness than anything else, “who are you then?”

He paused before speaking, as if contemplating his answer.  “I suppose you have a right to know who you rescued.  I am Shem, son of Noah, of Tarnan.” 

“Tarnan?” I raised my brows in surprise as he named an area more than fifteen days journey east and at the edge of the Prince’s rule.  “What business brings you so far from home?”

Shem, son of Noah, took his time in replying again.  I grimaced, praying he did not find my questions too forward.  “Let me first inquire as to who you are, before I answer anymore questions.”

My face flushed again, but I managed to tell him who I was, Deshereh, daughter of Miadah, of Enoch, and that my father was a merchant for the Prince, a man of moderate standing in society.

“Merchant for the Prince?” He laughed, the sound coming from deep in his abdomen.  “So glamorous!  I hail from a family of the land.  Agriculture, manure, fending off wild cats, dragons and other pests.  We live in tents and sow seed.  Not quite the life of comfort you seem to lead here in this palace.”

“I see.” I refrained from rolling my eyes, wishing he could know how wrong he was.  Our modest villa was hardly a palace.

Shem pulled against the thick cords, his eyes traveling along their lengths to the wooden posts they entwined. “Would it be at all possible for you to release me from these restraints?” He asked, a crooked smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

I hesitated.  “How do I know I can trust you?”

“I swear I will not hurt you or your family, El as my witness.”

“El means nothing to me.”  Who was this El he continued to speak of?  Another of the pantheon of gods that ruled the lands outside the civilized cities no doubt.

The young man’s smiled turned sardonic.  “Yet he means everything to me.  I swear I will only stand and leave you if I am liberated.”

Trust was not something I was used to giving, especially not to a strange man alone with me in my house.  I was silent a while, watching him, willing those dark eyes to twist away, but they never did.  He held my gaze.  “I-I think you need more rest.  When my brother returns then I’ll release you.” I dropped my eyes as these words left my mouth.  I could sense his disappointment and readied myself for the barrage of curses that were sure to come.

Silence stretched on for an unendurable moment as I waited for him to speak.  When he did, his voice was soft, void of the anger I expected.  “As you are my captor, my healer and benefactress, you have the right to decide.  I cannot say I blame you for your choice.  There are too many evildoers in this world to trust anyone.  It is as my father says.”

I stood to my feet, surprised into motion.  His response had disconcerted me.  I was used to being verbally berated for my services and decisions, not given credit for their practicality.  I watched him curiously.  There was something different about this man, I concluded, for he didn’t have the petulance and bitterness about him like most of the men I had known, Jabrin’s friends being the worst.

“Do you want to hear what my father has to say?”

“N-not particularly.”  He was beginning to unnerve me.  I turned my thoughts toward escape into another part of the house without sounding rude.

He ignored me.  “He says the earth has turned corrupt and its people have disinterested themselves from the way it was intended to be.  They won’t listen to reason and so a terrible event is going to take place and eliminate their evil.”

“Corrupt,” I said flatly, trying to push back the fervor of my astonishment.  There was no denying that.  News of murder, theft, betrayal and rape spread like wild fire through the city, and the Prince’s guards did little about it.  The Nephilim, with their foul sense and actions, were the epitome of it all.  I couldn’t argue with his diagnosis, but something about the way he spoke of destruction made me uncomfortable.  I was surprised he even spoke of corruption at all.  Many refused to admit that they were capable of error.

“Yes, corrupt.  Surely you can feel it.”

I sucked in a breath at his choice of words.  “Feel it?” I choked out, now more discontent than ever.

“See it, I mean.”  I must have been mistaken at his meaning.  Few knew of the sense and even less possessed its powers.

“Oh, I suppose I do.”  I let out my breath uneasily, glancing longingly toward the doorway of the room.

“Good.  I knew you would.”

I faltered, clearing my throat before regaining the courage to continue.  “You should rest now.  I’m going to see where my sisters are.  I will be back later.”

“I can’t move anyway, can I?  Rest sounds about as good as it will get.”

“I’m glad you agree.”  The door was only a few strides away and I crossed the space quickly, sweeping aside the hanging curtain to exit into the hallway.  As I did I heard a soft sigh from the occupant of the room and a murmur almost too low for me to hear, whispered words that I had forgotten people knew how to say—“thank you”.

~  *  ~

I awoke to the chimes of the temple bell striking three in the afternoon.  Jerking upright, I blinked against the sunlight streaming in from the large west-facing window.  After leaving the strange man in the spare bed, I had twined my way through the house until I had located Keshol rooting through the storerooms for breakfast, and Aramia curling her hair in the washroom.  Informing Keshol to keep an eye on Aramia and the sleeping man, and to watch for Jabrin’s return, I had fallen into bed.  I had slept fitfully for the first hour, unable to erase the words the strange man had spoken from my mind.  The earth has turned corrupt and its people have disinterested themselves from the way it was intended to be.  They won’t listen to reason and so a terrible event is going to take place and eliminate their evil.  Surely you can feel it.

Hours later, with the entire day wasted, I awoke as confused and dissatisfied as when I had fallen asleep, with hardly three hours to spare before the evening tokens were collected at the Temple of Milkanah.  With Jabrin absent as usual, it was left to me to make the sacrifice for the family of Miadah the Methusalite.  If it were neglected we could be thrown into the stocks, or worse.  The god of evening had to be appeased.

I yawned, pushing the delicate blanket of harpy feathers aside, and stood to my feet.  I was fully clothed, having been too distraught to bother undressing in the morning, and, after glancing hurriedly in the mirror to make sure my hair was in place, I made my way toward the kitchen.  I was starving, I realized.  I hadn’t eaten since supper the previous day.  As I neared the eating room, I heard the murmur of voices coming from within.  I didn’t think about the cold feeling building in the pit of my stomach until I pushed through the doorway.

I left the kitchen in disgust.  If my father could see how Jabrin was neglecting his duty I knew how furious he would be.  I was running the household more than he was.  Father and Mother were to return in two weeks, and I prayed that Jabrin wouldn’t become any worse in that time.  He and Aramia were becoming harder to handle and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep either of them under my wing.  When Father returned I knew everything would be alright.

With a jolt, I remembered the wounded man still tied to the bed.  Jabrin was home now, so I could let him free.  I flushed with shame, realizing how stiff he must have become being tied up for so long, and quickened my step toward the front of the house.

I pushed aside the tapestry, opening my mouth to apologize for leaving him so long alone, and froze.  The bed was empty.  The thick cords lay curled on the rumpled sheets in a neat coil.  I stepped hesitantly closer and saw that they were unbroken.  A lump rose in my throat as I replayed in my mind the knots I had tied the night before.  I had checked and rechecked them in the night.  There was no way he could have freed himself.  I reached down to run my fingers over the stiff rope and noticed a folded piece of brown paper stuck in the crease of the coils.  Picking it up, I unfolded it, gasping as two silver drams fell into my palm.  Wetting my lips, I turned my eyes toward the neatly penned symbols and slowly deciphered the words written there:

Deshereh, daughter of Miadah, of Enoch:

    Thank you for the kindness and hospitality you showed me when I was helpless.  I know these drams are not nearly enough to repay you, but it is all I currently hold in my possession.  I regret that there were certain circumstances forcing me to flee in this untimely manner.  You will not be forgotten.  May El watch over you and keep you from harm.

        Shem, son of Noah, of Tarnan

Numbly, I let the note fall on the bed and sank heavily to the stool I had occupied all night.  He was gone.  I didn’t know why or how, only that the cords were unbroken and the bed was empty of the man who had lain there.  A sarcastic smile twisted my lips.  Maybe the strange El he had spoken of so often had saved him.  More likely a friend waiting on the street had cut him loose.  The latter suggestion unnerved me.  Sighing, I stood up, deciding not to dwell on the strange occurrence, only praying he hadn’t stolen anything when he fled.