Mahli
“Have I any pleasure in the death of the wicked, declares the LORD God,
and not rather that he should turn from his way and live?” Ezekiel 18:22Page 136
“At l-least I don’t have to g-go right n-now.” Atarah huddled in the corner of the dried-grass bed in the room they’d slept in the night before, her teeth chattering. With knees drawn to her chest and her face buried in her hands she exhaled a hot breath that deflected from her palms to warm her skin. And still she shook. Almost convulsed. Obviously not from the cold. From fear and disgust. Peleg had advised her that his men would fetch her the next afternoon. He planned to allow her a long night of sleep, he had said with a leering grin, so she could be at her best for him the next day.
At her best for him! She shuddered and pushed away the jar of scented oil the guards he’d stationed outside her door had given her to use after she bathed.
Over on the opposite bed, Shua bounced a screaming Gadreel. He’d been crying when Tirza brought him to Atarah following their return from the ash storm and, for the first time ever, his distress escalated when Atarah reached for him. He pulled away from her.
Shua crooned to the baby.
“H-he’s upset because I-I’m upset,” Atarah murmured through her fingers. Not likely. He’d seen her upset many times over the last few days and hadn’t acted like this.
“Can’t you stop shaking? Maybe that will settle him.”
“I-I’m trying.” Atarah gripped the stone sides of the bed, desperately struggling to hold still -- but not because she worried about the noise level. Gadreel couldn’t betray their hiding place -- they were no longer hiding. Peleg had dropped them off at their old room and stationed three of Tirza’s burly men outside the door. Everyone knew their whereabouts.
Shua lowered her voice and glanced toward the doorway. “We know the way out now. If we can get Gadreel to quiet down maybe we can get away.” She rose to her feet and Atarah noticed for the first time that the rounded ceiling barely cleared the top of her slave’s head. Already hardened by mistreatment at the hands of city-dwellers, Shua seemed only marginally concerned over what Peleg planned to do with her after he finished with Atarah. Sad and hard to comprehend. But commendable that she cared so much for the baby.
After a few minutes, when Gadreel’s shrieks modified to a whimper and Atarah stopped trembling, Shua moved closer. “See if he’ll come to you now.”
Atarah forced a wan smile and reached over to wiggle each of the baby’s twelve toes in turn. He ducked his head and angled his shoulder up and away from her, leaning into Shua. Ignoring his reaction, Atarah grinned and nuzzled the bottoms of his feet. The baby looked at her doubtfully for a moment then reached toward her with a moist smile. She placed a kiss on the end of his nose and drew him into her arms. He felt so good. She shut her eyes and wrapped him in a tight hug, absorbing his comfort.
He still comforted her even if The Dream no longer did. She admitted she’d misjudged the Light. The “new thing” hadn’t meant losing Gadreel after all. But after giving into her disappointment and rejecting the Light, she hadn’t been able to open herself to it again.
The baby snuggled against her and twined twelve fingers through her hair. He was the same Gadreel. Why had she been afraid? “He’s all right.”
“I know. He’s just never seen you cry.”
“That’s right. I’ve never cried in front of him before.”
“Never.”
“I was just so . . . “ “Scared about Peleg and what’s going to happen to you.” Shua stated almost matter-of-factly.
Atarah absently bobbed her head and stared with out-of-focus eyes. She’d kept herself pure for so many years and now . . . The familiar nausea thickened in her throat. “I’m scared about a lot of things.”
“Yeah.”
“Besides, it’s too early for Gadreel to start changing.” Atarah hadn’t realized she’d been worrying about the awful things people claimed about baby giants until she uttered the words. She automatically covered the baby’s fingers with her hands in a protective gesture though she had no idea who she was protecting him from or how hiding his deformity would help.
Her slave studied the floor and chewed her thumb nail. “They do say the babies start changing early.”
“But Gadreel won’t change,” Atarah snapped. She lifted her chin, cloaking herself with a confidence she didn’t feel. Even though she’d thought ill of her mother a thousand times for covering over problems and pretending they didn’t exist, Atarah couldn’t stem the flow of defensive words. “We’ll love him, and when he grows up he’ll grow into a harmless larger-than-life human who loves us in return.”
“Yes.” Shua agreed hastily, but her eyes betrayed her. “He’ll never turn into one of them. He’d never hurt us.”
Atarah suspected that only a lifetime of servitude kept the slave from expressing her true thoughts, but Atarah knew Shua no longer believed in their dreams for Gadreel. The slave expected him to turn into one of the evil giants who had destroyed her village and killed her family.
The knowledge dizzied Atarah. Unable to deny, yet unwilling to admit, that Shua’s fears about Gadreel were founded in reality, Atarah turned away. Immediately, terrifying images of giants and the god Ninlel and the Nephilim and Tirza and the ash storm and Father and Dagaar and the ark streamed through her head. The pictures ended with an image of Peleg’s ugly, twisted smirk.
Her stomach lurched and she abruptly stood. “I’m going to get some water.”
“I don’t like to go out there. Those men scare me.”
“Me, too, but I’ve been cooped up too long. I need to move and get my mind off things.” She didn’t dare allow her thoughts to dwell on Peleg and his rotten-potato breath.
“God of Noah, spare me,” she whispered into Gadreel’s hair. But she knew even as she prayed . . . there was no hope.
Peleg’s men didn’t take Atarah to Peleg the next day as expected. Or the next. Another week passed and another. Still no sign of a summons. She rubbed the scented oil Peleg gave her on the baby and dumped out the rest. “You shouldn’t use the oil either,” she told Shua. “Neither of us want to do anything to make ourselves more attractive to Peleg.” The slave agreed. But they both knew Peleg stank so badly he wouldn’t notice how they smelled.
Each morning the beautiful young woman Atarah had noticed staring at her on their first day with the community brought them a bit of bread and curdled milk. She introduced herself as Mahli. She seemed gentle and timid, different from anyone else they had met in this place. Well-bred, maybe. And young. Atarah suspected that if circumstances were different Mahli might giggle and bubble, but her eyes remained dark pools of sorrow.
Once when the guards briefly moved out of hearing, words burst from Mahli like water over a rapids, rushing out as though she hungered for words she hadn’t tasted in months. She reminded Atarah of Tirza the first night they’d met her. Before Tirza kidnapped Gadreel and her character did an about-face.
Mahli informed them the ash storm had obliterated the crops. The giants had arrived shortly after the storm, hungry and on the rampage, causing the entire underground community to hunker down. As a matter of fact, fleeing to the safety of the cave to escape the storm had probably saved them all from a disastrous encounter with the giants. Since then, the monsters had been fighting to get into the city, but spies reported they hadn’t been able to break through.
Mother! Sharp pain knifed into Atarah, but she shoved the concern to the back of her mind. She couldn’t spend time worrying over Mother when she was powerless to do anything to help. The baby and Shua were her responsibility now.
The giants, Mahli continued, were the reason meal portions had been small and only once a day. But on the plus side, Atarah and Shua had avoided Peleg so far because he’d been occupied with planning what to do in case the giants discovered them.
A guard approached. Mahli’s eyes dimmed and her mouth clamped tight. Timid again. Atarah got the distinct feeling the woman felt some sort of affinity for her. As though they had something in common that Atarah knew nothing about.
Other than Mahli’s brief visits, Atarah saw no one but Shua, Gadreel and the ever-present guards. With nothing else to do, Atarah and Shua took turns entertaining Gadreel any way they could. They rocked him, crossed their legs and jiggled him on their shins. They tickled him and dangled their long hair in front of him until he giggled. He gummed Atarah’s finger and grew crankier by the day. Teething. Poor baby. They made no attempt to keep him quiet.
Late one afternoon, just as Atarah started to think Peleg might have forgotten about her, a stir outside proved otherwise. An angular whiskered face poked into the room. The man snapped a forefinger her direction and jerked his head toward the door. “Come!” A surge of fear ripped through Atarah, buckling her knees as though someone had clipped her from behind. She sat down hard on the bed, unable to breathe.
“I said come!”
With legs too weak to support her, she leaned forward gripping her thighs with white knuckled fingers. Air trapped viselike in her lungs. The man scowled and his eyes narrowed into a threat. He took a menacing step toward her.
“Move! Now! It’s time.”
Before he could say anything further, Mahli appeared magically beside him. “Calm down,” Mahli told him roughly. Elbowing past him she handed a loaf of bread to Shua. “Take care of the baby until I bring her back.”
“What are you doing?” the man asked.
“You’re the one whose been complaining about cranky baby noises. Peleg sent me with a little extra food to occupy him and silence the clamor while his mama’s gone.” With her eyes locked on Atarah’s, Mahli spoke over her shoulder to the guard. “As long as I’m going that way, I’ll deliver the woman.”
He planted his feet. “Peleg gave me the job and . . .”
“No!” she interrupted sharply. “Peleg sent me for her.” She jutted out her chin and matched his glare with a searing one of her own. “You want to risk Peleg’s displeasure?”
Atarah and Shua exchanged glances. This couldn’t be the same woman who’d been bringing meals.
“She’s all yours.” With a revolting leer, the man crossed his arms and cocked his head, mocking her. “I would never mess with one of Peleg’s girls.”
Mahli blushed and shame briefly flashed over her countenance. She quickly recovered her composure and helped Atarah to her feet. She squeezed Atarah’s hand reassuringly then shoved angrily past the man as she dragged Atarah by the arm through the door and down the corridor. The guard’s voice, thick with innuendo, followed them.
“Just make sure you get the new girl there safely.”
Mahli continued to pull Atarah away from the guards, gripping her arm with the intensity she might use in clinging to a branch high over a rushing stream.
A hodgepodge of questions and emotions tumbled around inside Atarah. Obviously Mahli knew Peleg in the same way he intended to know Atarah. The woman’s nearly palpable empathy made that apparent. Did Mahli plan to spirit her to safety? As soon as Atarah’s heart lifted at that thought, she remembered the baby and Shua and knew she couldn’t leave them. Besides, there was no safety. Not anywhere.
After a few moments they rounded a corner and Mahli abruptly stopped. She closed her eyes and wrapped herself in a trembling hug. “Give me a minute.” She sucked in a deep gulp of air and held it for several beats before finally exhaling. Then she opened her eyes and gazed miserably at Atarah. “Sorry. I came to try and make it a little easier for you. But then I started reliving everything.” She massaged her forehead. “I’m afraid I’m not very comforting.”
Atarah studied her. She was beautiful, really, except for the sallow skin with too many wrinkles for one so young. Long lashes brushed her cheeks. Brown hair fell across her shoulders. In a way Atarah couldn’t articulate, Mahli reminded her of a discarded hull. “You took charge back there.”
“Thanks. I was terrified.” Mahli giggled unsteadily. “I attack when I’m scared. False
bravado. I’m not really like that.”
“I appreciated it.” Atarah made no attempt to disguise her admiration.
“I wanted. . . I didn’t want . . . I thought maybe . . . ” Mahli sighed deeply and
started over. “I thought you might feel a little better if you knew that someone else . . . understands. What you’re going through.”
Pity for the girl rushed through Atarah. “You understand because . . .”
“Yes. Peleg.” Crimson rushed up Mahli’s neck. “Regularly. I hate him.”
“I hoped you intended to help me avoid Peleg.”
“I wish.” Mahli lowered her gaze. “There’s no way out of this. Sorry if I gave you false hope.” She started walking again. Very slowly. They moved down the corridor and up a flight of stairs in silence.
“Can you help us leave?” Atarah took care to use the plural so Mahli would understand she couldn’t leave without Shua and the baby.
“I’m sorry.” Wretchedness shone in her eyes. “If there was a way to escape I’d go with you. But there are guards at every exit and the stone seals are so heavy.”
Atarah had already figured as much. She didn’t feel the slightest nudge of disappointment when Mahli told her. She only felt . . . what? Numb. Resigned.
“How can Peleg spare men to watch us at a time like this?”
“He can’t. That proves how determined he is to have you.”
Atarah moved along without feeling the floor. “God of Noah, spare me.” She prayed silently. She must somehow survive this. For Gadreel. “Why didn’t Peleg send for me earlier?”
“I told Hoda his intentions and she’s been keeping him to a short tether.”
“Hoda?”
“Yes. His wife.”
“I know she’s his wife. When we first came . . .” No point in going through that sordid scene again. “I got the impression she already knew.”
“She did. Sort of. She tries not to believe those things about him.” Mahli shrugged. “It’s complicated. Hoda’s not as bad as she seems. She wants to protect us. Sometimes she can. Sometimes she can’t.”
“Us?”
“All the women Peleg . . . claims. Peleg started misusing her when she was still a child and he was already an old man. She’s years younger than she looks. Yet in some twisted way she’s fond of him.”
“She loves him?”
Mahli pushed out her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe something like that. I think she needs him . . . depends on him. I’m not sure. As I said, it’s complicated.”
Life in the underground mirrored life in the city; Hoda’s life mirrored Mother’s. “And Hoda just accepts mistreatment,” Atarah mused.
“She allows the abuse. Sometimes I think she believes she deserves no better.” Mahli let the flat of her hand bump along the wall. “She even lets him beat her. I think that’s part of their unspoken agreement. She submits to that quirky little pleasure of his and he’s willing to forgo pleasures with other women. For a while.”
Atarah didn’t want to hear more, but she did need to map out the route in her mind. While Mahli chattered on, she committed the twists and turns of the tunnel to memory. Until a surprising statement shocked her out of her reverie.
“Crazy Noah is his brother.”
“Noah? Whose brother?” Atarah chided herself for blocking out the conversation.
“My husband’s brother.”
“Your husband?” Atarah stared blankly. Mahli was so young.
“Paseah.”
Atarah scrambled to figure out what Mahli was talking about. She was married? Noah had a brother? “I’m sorry, I guess my brain shut down.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should know you can’t think right now.” Mahli’s brow furrowed with distress. “But I kept rattling on and on about myself. I’m so stupid.”
Atarah caught the faint aroma of bread. They must be almost there. Her heart clenched at the thought, but she pushed fear away. “No, your story will distract me. Start from the beginning and talk fast.” Talking fast shouldn’t be a problem for Mahli.
“You know who Crazy Noah is? That man who built an ark on the mountain?”
Engrossed in telling her story, Mahli slowed down. Atarah was only too happy to oblige. They barely crept through the tunnel.
“I was the fourth concubine of Noah’s brother, Paseah. My father sold me to him
before I stood much higher than his waist. I worked in the garden and cooked. Concubines are just glorified slaves, you know.” She glanced at Atarah to see if she understood.
“I know.” It was amazing how much Mahli’s life reminded Atarah of Hoda’s and Mother’s lives. Atarah briefly wondered if everything came in threes. “You were married to Noah’s brother? Wasn’t he awfully old?”
Mahli grimaced. “He was a little younger than Noah, but that’s ancient to a half-grown girl.” Launching into the meat of the narrative she spoke faster, almost without taking time to breathe. “Paseah always talked about how terrible his brother was and how the two of them never agreed about anything and how that’s why Paseah was forced to move so far from Noah even though siblings usually look up to older brothers and Paseah told us that all his brothers and sisters felt the same way about Noah that he does.”
“You said Paseah told ‘us?’”
“Yes. He told all his wives and children. Most of his children are older than I. The other wives hated me and Paseah loved only his money so I was completely alone.”
That the others wives were jealous of Mahli didn’t surprise Atarah. Mahli was so young. She served as proof that beauty wasn’t always an asset. “So,” Mahli picked up the thread of her story, “he said Noah insisted on worshipping only one god and wasted the family fortune on building an enormous structure for animals because the god told him to and he forced his family to live in squalor in a little thatched hut by the ark. That’s why all Noah’s brothers and sisters were forced to move to another city.”
“How’d you get here?”
“I ran away from him.”
“I get why you ran away, but why did you seek out the area where Noah lives if you thought he was a bad man?”
“See that’s just it.” Impressed with her own brilliance, Mahli’s eyes lit up. “Because I knew how cruel Paseah was, and I knew he regarded Noah as the worst man in the world because they were such opposites . . .” She stopped to lift her eyebrows and palms. “Don’t you see? By default that would make Noah nice. I know. Convoluted logic.” Mahli shrugged. “But I hoped maybe Noah would take me in since I’m family. I thought he might care for me without mistreating me like his brother did.”
“And you’re in the underground because . . .” Atarah tilted her head, questioning.
“The day before I got here I ran into some people who told me that everything Paseah said about Noah is true.” Mahli smiled ruefully. “They brought me to Peleg. He stole my money. Kept me. He has a strong appetite for women who aren’t slaves.” She shook her head. “And now Paseah is dead.”
“What? How do you know?”
“The underground has spies everywhere. They said Paseah traveled to the city – probably looking for me -- and paid some money Noah owed. Then Noah took him away and let some animals maul him to death up by his ark. No one has seen him since.”
Atarah barely had time to experience renewed fear of Noah and his ark when the community’s common area, with people scurrying about trying to appear busy, opened unexpectedly before them. “Peleg’s room is just over there.” Mahli pointed to a corridor Atarah hadn’t noticed the first time she visited the place. “I’m not supposed to go any further with you. Even though you can’t tell, they’re all watching. You have to go on alone.”
Atarah stood frozen.
“He’s waiting. I’m sorry.”
Raw terror closed around Atarah like a mountainous wave.
