“You are careful, mistress,” he said with a shy smile. “I hope I passed your test.” Then he backed away into the darkness, taking the faint lamplight with him.

Different households trained their servants in different ways, apparently. What was there to do now, but simply part the flap and go inside?

The lamp flickered from a low table, and before it a woman knelt, praying to an image—of Asherah, Rebekah supposed, since it was obviously of a woman—while on two of the three sides of the tent, two heaps of blankets and the slight sound of breathing showed where Ezbaal’s mother and grandmother no doubt lay asleep.

Rebekah was surprised that it was prayer that kept Akyas awake, and not conversation with the other women. But they were older, and had seen many a wedding, so no doubt they needed their sleep in order to make a good showing in the morning.

After a moment, Akyas—for Rebekah supposed it was she, from the slightness of her figure and the fullness of her hair; and who else of the three would be awake the night before the wedding?—finished her prayer, touched her forehead, kissed her fingers, then dipped them into a tiny bowl before the idol and anointed the statue’s head and breasts and hips. Only then did she turn to see whose entry into the tent had made the wick of the lamp flicker and move within the oil.

Her eyes widened in surprise. So Akyas had been expecting to see someone, but not Rebekah.

Rebekah dared not speak loud enough to be heard across the tent—she did not want to waken the others. So she made as if to leave.

Immediately Akyas beckoned to her, insistently, as if she would brook no argument. Rebekah came quietly across the rugs—fine thick rugs, heavy for the beasts to carry, but just what Ezbaal was bound to provide for the women of his house. Akyas lifted the lamp and held it between them. So quietly that her breath did not make the lamp’s flame flicker, Akyas said, “I hoped that you would come.”

That might be true enough, thought Rebekah, but it didn’t change the fact that she had been expecting someone else. “I would have come sooner,” Rebekah answered, “but I did not know if your seclusion . . .”

Akyas waved her hand dismissively. “Let’s go outside to talk. Old women sleep lightly.”

“I heard that,” murmured Ethah.

“And thereby proved me right,” said Akyas softly.

“Get out, you pack of hooting baboons,” Ethah said; and then, almost as a continuation of the same sentence, she snored.

Akyas, laughing silently, led the way out of the tent. When they were well away from any one tent, Akyas spoke quietly. “I wish you could have met Ethah under better circumstances. She has quite a sharp sense of humor.”