One dark night it was Nahara rather than the ghost who came for me. It was the hour my father had roused me when we fled Jerusalem, but Nahara did not shout as he had. Instead she crept onto my pallet and placed her hand over my mouth. That was the way I was awakened, to make certain I didn’t call out and rouse my father. For a moment I imagined I was in the desert and it was Ben Simon who wanted my silence, and I didn’t resist. But the hand was too small, too polite. When I opened my eyes, Nahara was there, insisting I hurry. I reached for my tunic and followed her outside so that my father would not be disturbed by our whispering. There were always watchmen posted, but we found a dark corner.

“My mother wants you to follow me.” Nahara had a sweet, no-nonsense nature. She clearly expected me to do as I was told. “She needs your help.”

“Let your sister be the one to help,” I recommended, anxious to return to my chamber. There were so many stars in the dusky night I could see them falling as I gazed upward into the darkness. They seemed so near, like the Salt Sea in the distance, when they were so far away.

“My sister doesn’t have the nerve for what we’re about to do.” Nahara was so serious she might have been the elder sister. Unlike Aziza, she had dark eyes but hers were flecked with yellow, appearing half-shut, a subtle glance that suggested deep thoughts. “Aziza will never attend to a birth. She says she can’t bear to see the blood.”

“How is that possible? I’ve heard that your sister can do things no mortal woman can do,” I ventured to test her. “Perhaps my brother would know more about that?”

Nahara smiled. If she seemed older than her years, well, so had I when I was her age. “I doubt it. What would a warrior know about women’s ways?”

“I need my sleep,” I objected, but Nahara tugged on my sleeve, refusing to give up.

“My mother says you have to come. She says she’ll help a lioness in return for what you do tonight.”

I felt fully awake when I heard this. Was the message a veiled threat or a promise? There was nothing waiting in my chamber other than a ghost, curled up and weeping. No one in my house but an assassin who berated me when I swept his floor. When Nahara told me we were in search of a black dog, I became curious and decided to accompany her. Nahara carried a pitcher; she handed me a length of rope. There were many black dogs in the settlement if that was what Shirah wanted. I found one right away and grabbed it. Simple enough. But when I brought the stray to Nahara, she laughed, covering her mouth so no one would hear.

“Is he not good enough?” I said, annoyed. I had a strong rope around the creature’s neck, but Nahara crouched down to remove the noose. She was amused I had imagined our task would be so easy.

“That one.” She pointed to a fierce she-dog who snarled at us from a distance. “Can you manage her?”

“One black dog is not a lion,” I remarked.

I caught the she-dog as I had trapped wild birds in the desert. I sat beside her, paying no attention when she drew her lips over her teeth. I remained silent, for that was my gift and what I was best at. After a while I slipped the rope around her neck. The she-dog looked at me. As soon as she did, she belonged to me, as the birds had, as I had looked at Ben Simon and belonged to him.

Nahara came racing over, pleased with my accomplishment, her dark hair flying behind her. Yet we weren’t finished with our task.

“Now you must take the ingredient we need,” she instructed. “She may bite when you do.”

Then I understood. The she-dog’s teats were hanging; she’d recently had pups. It was her milk we were after.

“Why not you?” I countered. “You’re small and fast. I’ll keep her from biting you. Just go to her as you would approach a goat, but do so quickly.”

Nahara shook her head. “I’m not a woman yet. It has to be you.”

I kept the rope tightly hitched around the she-dog’s neck and bade her to look at me. Without speaking I told her not to move. I instructed her with my touch and with my silence, and she behaved. Her body was warm and yielded to me; surely my touch was more gentle than her pups’ sharp teeth. When I was done collecting her milk, I freed her, then followed Nahara along the oldest part of the wall. People said the stones here were made of the same limestone Herod had used for construction of the Temple in Jerusalem, his mark etched into a border around each one. I wondered if he had been certain that the stones with his mark would be everlasting, and if perhaps Adonai had made them fall simply to prove that a man was only a man, even if he was a king.