Read Online Angels at the Gate by T. K. Thorne - Free Book Online Page B

a Baal?”
    I had not thought him interested in talk around us. From this, I tuck away the knowledge that he hears, even when he appears not to be listening.
    â€œAsherah
is
El’s wife,” Lot says, “but these people wrongly believe that she is Baal’s wife.”
    I am happy not to have to understand the intricate politics and pairings of the gods. Gods do what they wish. Should a son take his mother as wife in our human world, it would be considered an abomination. Sister and brother, of course, are another matter and almost common among royalty. Sarai and Abram are half-siblings. Still, the ways of Sodom are not the ways of my tribe.
    As if in agreement, a small brown dog, stinking of offal, barks at us from an alley. Aside from Lot, we are all strangers here.
    M Y COUSIN’S HOME in the city is opulent, with several rooms. He is a wealthy, influential man, thanks in large part to Abram’s generosity. Of course, Sodom is not Ur or Babylon, and it has not mastered the art of plumbing. The smells offend my nose, though I must endure them without the agonized facial expressions of my youth. Otherwise I risk my father’s pinch and a lecture. The hot wind shifts, making me thankful for the loose outer robe that offers protection from the burning sun.
    Mika and Raph must duck their heads to enter Lot’s house. “The area just inside the doorway is called the little gate,” I say, wishing to impress them with my knowledge. Perhaps they will realize I can be of more help than just as an interpreter, and they will decide to stay with us. At least, that is the dream in my head.
    Lot’s wife, Hurriya, waddles to the front room to meet us, her arms spread as wide as her hips. “Be welcome!” She is light-skinned and plump, her face rosy with sweat.
    Behind her are two women bearing bowls of water. They are introduced to Mika and Raph as daughters of Lot and Hurriya. I met them on a previous visit, but they paid little attention to me, and I had no particular interest in them. Lot has another daughter who lives elsewhere in the city with her own family.
    â€œNot yet married,” Hurriya says pointedly of her daughters, as she pours water from a pitcher into a bowl, making certain Raph and Mika hear. We sit on benches made of the same white limestone as the walls, and the daughters wash Mika and Raph’s feet, as is the custom for honored travelers and guests. I am last, as the youngest, and have to wash my own feet. Also, I get the dirty water.
    Hurriya, however, comes to me. “Be welcome to our house, son of Zakiti,” she says. She reaches down, taking my chin and cheek in one big hand and tilts my head. “Hmm,” she mutters, “a good thing such a flaw resides on a boy’s face and not a girl’s. A nose like that would take a flock of goats to buy a husband!”
    She laughs. Lot and his daughters smile. My father does not, nor do the honored guests. Raph looks confused, and I have never seen Mika smile at anything. I am surprised at the sting of her words. Father has told me the knot on the bridge of my nose is barely noticeable and that I will be a beautiful woman. Does Hurriya suspect something and wish to put her own daughters in a better light?
    Hurriya directs us to the interior courtyard where we sit on fine rugs. The floor in the other parts of the area—the domain of the chickens that wander freely about—is covered with fresh reeds. Hurriya leaves the door open to encourage a breeze, and my gaze finds a window at the far end of the room through which I can see the salt formations at the water’s edge and, beyond them, the sparkling surface of the sea itself. I remember my father’s warning when I was old enough to want to wade into it.
    â€œDon’t taste it,” he said.
    Of course, I immediately did. It burned my mouth, and though I tried to hide my tears, my father laughed, knowing exactly what I would do. Then