Gold Dust was an astute student. She learned to plug her bones in the presence of strangers and compose happy tunes when her mother needed cheering.

Ultimately, the joyous or melancholy notes of her bones replaced her tears.

Rebekah went to the local well to cleanse herself of her monthly blood.

She wailed out to the treetops, to the squawking crows, to the gurgling streams. The Ancient Zoroastrian had promised to linger as close as a prayer to Gold Dust. But she had broken her promise. Gold Dust could not cry. How could she bear this life without the comfort of tears?

The water in the well grumbled. Crows fell silent. Rebekah placed a plug of wool soaked in the juice of weeping willows inside her. One day, her brand might lose its intense pulsing and the ability to intimidate Jacob. He would copulate with her again. But she would never again give birth to his offshoot, sons or daughters who forget to cry.

She returned from the well. Jacob recoiled from the violet ice in her eyes. He went to his kiln and spent hours making love to iron, molding metals, smelting copper mixed with tin to create bronze implements. He tossed them all into the fire.

“I want gold with no trace of the base alloys,” he thundered, as if his voice would force God into compliance.

Rebekah served his dinner of stew gorged with the bones of beef. He sat at the table and banged the bones on a metal plate, soaked sangak bread in the marrow, and stuffed his mouth. “Soon I’ll become immortal like gold,” he barked, sucking his teeth in search of mint leftovers. “Do you understand, woman?”

“No,” Rebekah replied, “but I’ve faith in you. I’m certain you know a secret I don’t.” Has anyone lived forever? she wondered, her brand sizzling. It was hard enough to protect herself from him; it was becoming impossible to shelter Gold Dust.

“If you had any brain in your thick skull,” Jacob said, “you’d understand the concept of immortality. When gold melts it’s altered into liquid, when it cools off it becomes solid again. In both states it remains tangible and never vanishes into nothingness like humans do in death.”

Rebekah felt the room turn cool. A breeze fluttered through her hair. Jacob’s lips moved, but she could not hear him. She was riveted by an idea revealed to her. Why had she not thought of this before? The weakness of men lies in what they cherish most. She tossed a bunch of mint into the flames. The room turned warm again. She wiped her forehead.

Jacob banged on the tabletop with a butcher’s knife. “Where are you, woman? Did you hear me?”

Rebekah soaked more mint in the bone marrow he devoured and tossed a plateful of herbs into the furnace. “I understand now. Gold survives even in fire that’s known to destroy everything. But how can you become gold?”