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. âFor Nami.â
A frown arcs his mouth. He has thick lips like Lot, mostly covered by the black hairs beneath his nose. âShe is worth silver, that dog.â With the nail of his last finger, he picks something from between his yellow-stained front teeth. âI won her in a game of senet.â
âYou told me that before, but we have a bargain.â I cut the air with the blade of my hand in my fatherâs gesture.
With a snort that passes for a laugh, Chiram concedes. âAll right, the bitch is yours then. Good riddance, I say. She has not brought any silver to me. Just another mouth to feed.â
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.
CHAPTER
11
Lot took a long look at the fertile plains of the Jordan Valley in the direction of Zoar. The whole area was well watered everywhere, like the garden of the Lord or the beautiful land of Egypt. (This was before the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.) Lot chose for himself the whole Jordan Valley to the east of them. He went there with his flocks and servants and parted company with his uncle Abram. So Abram settled in the land of Canaan, and Lot moved his tents to a place near Sodom and settled among the cities of the plain.
âBook of Genesis 13:10-12
As it happened, the valley of the Dead Sea was filled with tar pits. And as the army of the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, some fell into the tar pits, while the rest escaped into the mountains.
âBook of Genesis 14:10
A T LENGTH, WE REACH THE cliffâs edge bordering the great rift. In the fog-shrouded distance, facing us, stands a sister cliff. The two mountain ridges run straight as lances, north and south. Between them, far below us, lies the Dead Sea, sparkling like lapis lazuli in the sun. We will descend here, but first we stop at the temple to pay our respect to the gods and toll to the priests, so we may enter the oasis of En Gedi.
Afterward, we make our way carefully down the steep slope, our presence scattering a family of ibex. One male stops to regard us, the scraggly beard under his chin quivering as he continues to chew.Danel loosens a quickly strung arrow that ensures dinner and the prize of the horns.
A small settlement exists at the cliffâs foot to support and protect the priests. The men here make a balsam from the resin of a thorny plant that grows at the cliffâs base. Its making is a highly-guarded secret men have died to protect, and the scent is meant only for use in the temple, but an exception is made for one trusted traderâmy father. We stop long enough to share a meal and procure a tiny bronze vial of it.
We leave the oasis too soon for me and head south, following the line of cliffs, banded in colors of spice, that rise to our right. On our left, the Dead Sea gleams in the harsh sunlight, its depths ending abruptly in green shallows as clear as dragonfly wings. We camp in caves set into the cliff walls. Father knows the ones that hoard fresh water in their hidden recesses.
In the days that follow, we cross the broad, flat valley that wraps the southern end of the Dead Sea. The cliffs we leave behind are now hazed, and the eastern bluffs rise before us. Beyond their heights, toward the rising sun, stretches a desert and beyond it, the great cities of Babylon and Ur. Of course, no one is foolish enough to travel straight across the desert. The caravan route to Babylon and Ur lies along the Kingsâ Road, following the great, verdant arch that begins in Egypt and ends in
A frown arcs his mouth. He has thick lips like Lot, mostly covered by the black hairs beneath his nose. âShe is worth silver, that dog.â With the nail of his last finger, he picks something from between his yellow-stained front teeth. âI won her in a game of senet.â
âYou told me that before, but we have a bargain.â I cut the air with the blade of my hand in my fatherâs gesture.
With a snort that passes for a laugh, Chiram concedes. âAll right, the bitch is yours then. Good riddance, I say. She has not brought any silver to me. Just another mouth to feed.â
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.
CHAPTER
11
Lot took a long look at the fertile plains of the Jordan Valley in the direction of Zoar. The whole area was well watered everywhere, like the garden of the Lord or the beautiful land of Egypt. (This was before the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah.) Lot chose for himself the whole Jordan Valley to the east of them. He went there with his flocks and servants and parted company with his uncle Abram. So Abram settled in the land of Canaan, and Lot moved his tents to a place near Sodom and settled among the cities of the plain.
âBook of Genesis 13:10-12
As it happened, the valley of the Dead Sea was filled with tar pits. And as the army of the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fled, some fell into the tar pits, while the rest escaped into the mountains.
âBook of Genesis 14:10
A T LENGTH, WE REACH THE cliffâs edge bordering the great rift. In the fog-shrouded distance, facing us, stands a sister cliff. The two mountain ridges run straight as lances, north and south. Between them, far below us, lies the Dead Sea, sparkling like lapis lazuli in the sun. We will descend here, but first we stop at the temple to pay our respect to the gods and toll to the priests, so we may enter the oasis of En Gedi.
Afterward, we make our way carefully down the steep slope, our presence scattering a family of ibex. One male stops to regard us, the scraggly beard under his chin quivering as he continues to chew.Danel loosens a quickly strung arrow that ensures dinner and the prize of the horns.
A small settlement exists at the cliffâs foot to support and protect the priests. The men here make a balsam from the resin of a thorny plant that grows at the cliffâs base. Its making is a highly-guarded secret men have died to protect, and the scent is meant only for use in the temple, but an exception is made for one trusted traderâmy father. We stop long enough to share a meal and procure a tiny bronze vial of it.
We leave the oasis too soon for me and head south, following the line of cliffs, banded in colors of spice, that rise to our right. On our left, the Dead Sea gleams in the harsh sunlight, its depths ending abruptly in green shallows as clear as dragonfly wings. We camp in caves set into the cliff walls. Father knows the ones that hoard fresh water in their hidden recesses.
In the days that follow, we cross the broad, flat valley that wraps the southern end of the Dead Sea. The cliffs we leave behind are now hazed, and the eastern bluffs rise before us. Beyond their heights, toward the rising sun, stretches a desert and beyond it, the great cities of Babylon and Ur. Of course, no one is foolish enough to travel straight across the desert. The caravan route to Babylon and Ur lies along the Kingsâ Road, following the great, verdant arch that begins in Egypt and ends in
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