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me?”
    There was a long silence.
    “It is not so simple, lady,” one of the Elders said into the quiet. “If you speak true ... and if , I say, I grant you nothing ... Adonai Himself has forgotten us, turning His attention to His Son. What shall become of us, then, if He remembers?” He shook his head. “No, better we remain forgotten.”
    “For how long?” I asked. “Another thousand years? What I ask, my lords ... if it be not wisdom, then name it compassion, and forge the Covenant anew.”
    “It is not,” another Elder said, “so simple.” He smiled at me with kindness and sorrow. “You see, lady, when Adonai-the One God, you call him-turned His face from us, we lost what we had held sacred. This thing you seek-this key, this Name-there is no one among us with the grace to contain it, with a tongue that may speak it. How long, you ask, does Adonai’s wrath endure? That is a thing we may answer. It endures forever, and a thousand years is only the merest beginning.”
    I thought of the moonlit waters of the Lake of Tears, of Shoanete’s story, of Yevuneh’s story. And I thought of my dream, and Hyacinthe’s pleas mingling with Imriel’s screams. “Nonetheless,” I said. “I would behold this thing, this Ark of Broken Tablets, and know it for myself.”
    They voted, the Elders of Saba. And for all that I had told the story well, for all that I had endured-that we had all endured-they voted no. Not happily, not all of them, for there were looks of sympathy, but it is how they decided.
    “Whether or not your story is true,” said Abiram, eldest of Elders, “we cannot know. It may be so, and this is a thing we may undertake to learn. Perhaps in this news you bring there is a sign, but it will take long study and prayer to determine it. And alas, there is one certainty in all of this. This god you claim to serve-this earth-begotten Elua -was never anointed by Adonai. No,” he shook his head, “I am sorry. But to allow you to approach the Holiest of Holies ... no. Even to one of our own, we would deny such a request. It is permitted only to the priests of Aaron’s line. What you ask risks greater blasphemy than the Breaking of the Covenant itself, and would end only in your death.”
    “So be it,” I murmured, defeated. “I thank you for hearing my plea.”
    I was angry, returning to Yevuneh’s house. I could not help it.
    “It is what you expected,” Joscelin said. “No more, and no less. You were warned often enough, Phèdre. Well and so; it has come to pass. The Melehakim have laid wisdom aside, and compassion with it. Although for all we know, they’re right and your tongue would shrivel, if you weren’t struck ...” His voice trailed off as he stared at Yevuneh’s house. “Name of Elua! Is she holding a fête?”
    Dark figures moved to and fro in the windows; women’s figures, clad in muted shawls. We were admitted to the house to find a dozen of them, solid Sabaean matrons all past their child-bearing years, engaged in the work of bringing various dishes into the modest courtyard at the rear of the house.
    “You’ve returned!” Yevuneh clapped her hands together, spotting us. The quiet sorrow that had marked her earlier had been replaced by a sense of contained excitement. “Ah, good, we’re nearly ready.”
    “Forgive us, my lady,” I said politely. “We did not mean to intrude upon your gathering. We will retire and be out of your way.”
    “No, no, child; not at all. They are here to see you.” Taking my arm, she led me through the house, making introductions: Ranit, Dinah, Semira, Yaffit, a half-dozen others-bewildered, I committed them to memory using the old skills Delaunay had taught me, and all the while they crowded around, murmuring polite greetings, touching my hair and skin in wonderment and exclaiming over Joscelin. We were not only the first D’Angelines they had seen, but the first northerners altogether, and a great novelty as such.
    “Wait,” Yevuneh told them, “until you see the boy, ah! A jewel in miniature!”
    “Where is he?” Alarm rose in me. “He was to remain in our quarters.”
    “Oh, tcha!” Yevuneh clicked her tongue. “Listen to the young mother fuss over a single chick. Did you bring him this far to fear he would come to harm in Yevuneh’s house? Yes, child, he is upstairs, awaiting your return.” Her expression turned shrewd. “Not that it will bring good news. So, tell me, did the Elders deny your plea?”
    “Yes.”