Kushiel's Chosen

in confusion, he was mistaken. I am still one of the few D'Angelinas who understands the divisions of the Cruithne, whom Caerdicci scholars name the Picti. Delaunay made me learn such things, and I have not lost the trick of it. I took a seat on a second stool, spreading my skirts carefully about me.
    "I have some knowledge of the teachings of Yeshua ben Yosef, father," I said, drawing a deep breath. "All the descendants of Blessed Elua and his Companions know the tale of the Mashiach, for it is, too, a part of our history. But it is the older teachings that interest me; the Tanakh, and most especially such midrashim as have been recorded in writing or passed from ear to ear. And for that, I must study Habiru."
    The Rebbe did blink; I daresay he never expected to hear such words from the mouth of a Servant of Naamah. Nonetheless, he repeated his question relentlessly; although there was a crafty gleam in his fierce old eyes now. "Why?"
    I answered with a question. "What do you know of the Lost Book of Raziel, father?"
    "Bah!" Nahum ben Isaac made a dismissive gesture. "You speak of the book of all knowledge, that Adonai gave to Edom the First Man? Tales to entertain children, no more."
    "No." I shook my head, surety giving me strength. "What of the Master of the Straits, father? Is he a tale to frighten children?"
    He chewed thoughtfully on a corner of his beard. "Sailors say he is not. Sailors lie. But a schism eight hundred years long across a piece of water I could shout across does not lie." Yes, it was definitely a crafty light. "You say it has somewhat to do with the Sefer Raziel?"
    "Yes." I leaned forward. "And the angel Rahab, who begot a child on a mortal woman. For this, the One God punished him; but Rahab brought up pages-scattered pages, from the Lost Book of Raziel-from the deep, and gave them to his son, and bound him to endure the length of his punishment as the Master of the Straits, unless someone could penetrate his mystery and take his place.”
    The Rebbe chewed fiercely; I don't think he was aware of what he was doing. Not with his beard, at least. "You tell a good story," he said grudgingly. "But it is only that."
    "No." Joscelin intervened quietly. "Not a story, father; I was there too. I have seen the Face of the Waters, and been carried on the crest of a wave that never breaks. And I know the Tsingano who penetrated the mystery. He was ..." He hesitated, then finished the thought firmly. "He was a friend of mine."
    I was grateful to hear him say it. Joscelin caught my eye and smiled ruefully; for a moment, it was as if nothing had changed between us.

    "He was a prince of his kind," I said sharply, "and gifted with the dromonde, that looks backward as well as afore. He was my friend, and I beg you do not mock him to my ears, father."
    "Pay it no mind." The Rebbe waved his hand dismissively again. "So." He fixed me with his gimlet stare. "Do I understand, Naamah's Servant? You wish to study Habiru and learn a secret to unlock the chain that binds this Tsingano friend of yours. You seek a means to force the messengers of Adonai Himself to obey."
    "Yes." I said it simply.
    To my great surprise, the Rebbe began to chuckle. "Well." Shaking his head, he picked strands of his beard from the corner of his mouth. "Well, well." Perhaps he did know, after all, that he chewed his beard. "I am compelled by the word of Yeshua to give succor where I may," he said mildly, "and it seems you make a case for it after all, Naamah's Servant. You claim to have studied with Seth ben Yavin of L'Arène, and he writes to me that you are not a bad pupil, despite the fact that you would make the Magdelene unrepentant blush. But he is a young man, and I do not trust the word of young men any more than I do sailors. Tell me, what does this mean?" From within the depths of his beard, he brought forth a pendant, worn close to the heart on a chain about his neck.
    I had only to glance at it once; the symbol, wrought in silver, was known to me. A broad, flat brush-stroke atop two legs, it looked like, with a tail squiggled on the left. "It is the word Khai, father, combined of the Habiru letters Khet and Yod."
    "And what does it mean?" He looked cunningly at me.
    "It means 'living.' " I made my voice firm. "It is the symbol of the resurrection of Yeshua, a pledge that the Mashiach rose from death and lives, and will return as the King-to-Come and establish his reign on earth."
    "So." Nahum ben Isaac tucked away the pendant