Lot let out his breath. Then, he knelt by my side even as several of his shepherds helped me sit up.

  “Let me help you to my tent,” Lot said. “You’ll rest there and grow healthy again. That which you clutch against you under those rags, no one will take. This I vow, Lot, the son of Nahor.”

  I shivered as the shepherds helped me stand and then to the largest tent. I had an odd feeling, now that I knew Lot was a servant of the strange god he’d invoked. Did that mean he knew Abram?

  I’d keep silent about my mission. I wouldn’t even think about it as I healed.

  Soon, I collapsed on a bed of sheepskins and linens and fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I healed in Lot’s tent where his young daughters and beautiful wife lived.

  Lot had an Egyptian physician who checked on me, including cleaning and putting belated stitches in my thigh. Despite that, a fever once again claimed me. I raved in delirium. The Egyptian had me drink a vile-tasting potion in response.

  Afterward, I twisted on the bed and vomited.

  He gave me the potion again, saying I must drink and keep it down if I hoped to survive.

  The second time I did keep it down.

  Lot often sat beside me, a gracious host. He’d speak in a low and persuasive voice, comforting me. Sometimes, his wife stood near, studying me and listening, perhaps even as I raved in my delirium.

  For a time, I couldn’t remember what happened. Many days passed.

  When I regained a modicum of understanding, the physician gave me water and Lot’s wife feed me soup by spoon. The two daughters, small children, watched and giggled if I said anything in the Cretan tongue.

  Finally, the fever broke. I was exhausted. I’d lost weight and strength.

  Lot spoke to me kindly, asking how I fared. He marveled at my dagger.

  “I hope you’ll forgive me,” Lot said. “I handled your dagger several times. It’s unique. I’ve seen the iron implements of the Hittites. Those are brittle, easily shattered. Your dagger is different. I…”

  “What happened?” I asked, worried, glancing around.

  “Your dagger is beside you.”

  I felt at my side, and knew peace when my hand fell on the hilt.

  “I’m afraid I swung your dagger against a piece of firewood. It was foolish of me to try. If the blade had shattered—it didn’t. That’s when I understood its uniqueness.”

  I stared at him.

  Lot licked his lips. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

  “No,” I said. “You saved my life and my honor. I’m forever in your debt.”

  Lot exhaled as if he’d been worried about my response. “After noting your dagger’s uniqueness, I showed it to my chief herdsman. He has fought in two campaigns with Amorite relatives. He said it was a superior blade, better even than the bronze swords of the Sacred Band.”

  I debated with myself on what I should say. Lot was kind, had been brave on my behalf and perhaps wondered whom he’d helped. He was curious about me, obviously. Perhaps it would be good to assuage some of his curiosity, and the worry that might be behind it.

  I told him how I’d faced an Egyptian pit slave with two sickle swords, how my blade had caused one of his to snap. It had given me the victory.

  I would have said more, but my tale of fighting clearly distressed Lot. He must have been one of those merchants of peace, not a man of war. Even so, he’d been valiant on my behalf.

  I soon grew weary and fell asleep.

  Over the next few days, I stayed awake longer and ate more, until Lot was regularly providing me with roasted lamb. Soon, I was standing and then walking. As soon as possible, I practiced with my dagger to help regain my strength and speed.

  One evening, Lot spoke to me outside the tent. He’d heard about a battle between the kings of the East and a confederation of hastily assembled Amorites. Chedorlaomer had won, of course, continuing his destructive march through Canaan.

  I said little about that. Who could stop Chedorlaomer now? I was beginning to doubt anyone in the land of Canaan was a match for his terrible phalanx of Eastern spearmen.

  The sun settled behind the horizon and the stars began to shine. In the distance, the men of Sodom closed the main city gate. I heard the distant boom of it shutting.

  Why did Lot remain here in tents so close to the city? Why didn’t he reside behind Sodom’s strong walls, especially now as Chedorlaomer neared?

  Perhaps Lot divined my thoughts as he followed my gaze. He nodded, looking up at the stars.

  We each had a cup in our hand, his empty. He’d asked if I’d like more wine. I’d said yes. He’d said one cup was enough for him, as he made poor decisions when he drank too much.

  Wasn’t that true of all men? I sipped my wine, glad to be alive, glad to be regaining strength and having escaped the harsh treatment by the men of Sodom. I thought about the wretches I’d trekked with, but I preferred not to ask about them. I’d seen what had happened to the Amorite. I didn’t want to know more.

  “I haven’t always lived here,” Lot said. There was a far stare in his eyes. He turned to me, smiling. “In your delirium, you spoke in several languages. Some we didn’t understand. Some I did. You said you came from Knossos that is on the isle of Crete?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You were born in Knossos?”

  “No. I was born north in a small town near Athens on the mainland. I was raised there, as an Athenian. I don’t know whether you know about the tribute of the Minotaur.”

  Lot shook his head.

  “I was one of seven young men sent to Knossos—that was part of the tribute. The people of Athens said the Sea King’s warriors would sacrifice us to the Minotaur. In a way that was true, but not how they described it. We were trained in the Sea King’s court or in his service as the ears of Minos.”

  “I understand,” said Lot. “You’ve journeyed through many lands then?”

  I nodded, telling him about my latest voyage, leaving out certain parts, telling him how I’d landed on the shores of the Country of Turquoise. I ended up telling him about some of my travails afterward, including becoming a fighting pit slave.

  Lot sighed when I ceased speaking. He stared into the heavens, contemplating perhaps.

  “Many years ago,” he said after a time, “I lived in Haran. It was a great city of trade, many days travel from here. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

  “I’ve heard of Haran. I don’t know where it lies, though.”

  Lot told me, waited, and then began to tell me a tale dear to my heart, as it told of my target, Abram. Had the Minotaur secretly staged my meeting with Lot, using magic to do so? Our meeting struck me as fortuitous in more than one regard. Yet, Lot seemed resistant against spells and magic, as if there was…holy protection around him.

  The thought astonished me, as I had no idea why I’d think it. Then, I shook that off so I could listen to more about Abram.

  Abram’s father, Lot’s great uncle, had died in Haran—only then had the two set out from the trading city. They each herded their own cattle, goats and sheep, slowly making their way to the land of Canaan, a land with tough Amorites, tribes of giants and other Canaanites.

  I had the sense Lot was leaving things out. That was too bad, as I wanted to know more. I especially wanted to learn about the strange god the Minotaur so obviously hated.

  “Do you serve the same gods as those of Sodom?” I asked.

  Lot stared at me, surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”

  I shrugged. “It seems…germane to your tale.”

  “Indeed…yes, you’re correct. I, and Abram, serve a singular god.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re interested?”

  I nodded.

  Lot stared at me more.

  Had I alerted him in some way? I needed to come up with a reason for my question. I cleared my throat. “I want to know how a man of peace found the courage to stand up to a war-captain of Sodom. I thought perhaps your beliefs might be a reason.”

  I’d started that as a piece of deception. As I spoke it, though, I realized I did want to know—and my statement was true, as far as it went, even if not complete.

  Lot set down his empty cup, sat back, folding his hands across his chest. He tapped his thumbs against his chest.

  “He is God Most High,” Lot said abruptly. “He is above all, the Creator of the world and everything in the world such as men, animals, plants and fish. Long ago, because the people of that time had become terribly wicked, He sent the Great Flood to destroy everything. At God’s command, Noah built a mighty Ark of gopher wood. The building of the gigantic craft took many years. During the building, Noah was the lone preacher of righteousness, warning the doomed world to repent and join him on the Ark. None heeded the warning. I imagine many mocked the righteous preacher and the foolishness of building such an ugly monstrosity. At the appointed time, God Most High brought pairs of every kind of land animal and bird to the Ark, which they boarded. Noah’s three sons, their wives and his own wife boarded the Ark as well. God Most High closed the Ark’s hatch to a doomed and depraved world. Seven days later, it began to rain.”

  “Seven days?” I asked.

  Lot nodded. “It rained for forty days and forty nights after that as the foundations of the world shook, spewing up the waters of the deeps. The world was drowned, only the people and animals aboard the Ark surviving. From them, every living creature and person is descended.”

  Lot looked at me keenly. “God Most High then put the rainbow in the sky to remind humanity that He would never again destroy the world through flood. I wonder at times if He did that to encourage those leaving the Ark, to let them know to plant and work once more.”

  I nodded noncommittally. This was a different, and detailed version of the Great Flood story I’d heard before from others. In Knossos, and in Athens, we’d been taught Zeus and Poseidon had sent the flood. It had destroyed wicked humanity except for Deucalion, a son of Prometheus, and Pyrrha, a niece of Prometheus. They’d climbed into a chest, surviving nine days and nights of torrential rain.

  Everyone knew about the Great Flood. Who sent it was usually the key difference. Now, though, this Ark, long time building—over one hundred years in Lot’s tale, the preaching, the forty days and nights of rain—I’d never heard such a tale as that.

  “My Uncle Abram is a great man,” Lot said quietly. “He led us out of Haran. He…” Lot eyed me. “Abram has spoken with God Most High, the Creator who warned Noah and destroyed the wicked world that was. Abram has learned God’s ways and obeyed His dictates. I was much younger and more foolish in those days.”

  I shifted uncomfortably.

  “You frown,” Lot said. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “What else happened? If Abram is so great, why don’t live with him so you can hear the words of God Most High?” I closed my eyes as I asked this. What a rude question. Had I just spoiled everything?

  “Ah…that is a penetrating question.” Lot stared up at the stars.

  I must have hit a nerve. What luck. I looked at my wine, took a gulp for fortification, and I didn’t even know why.

  “After a time,” said Lot, “there was famine in the land of Canaan. We’d been here for a time already. But the fact of famine in the Promised Land…”

  I wanted to ask questions, but I waited, listening.

  Lot shook his head as if at a bitter memory. “There was famine in the land. We went to Egypt in search of food. There, it was so different from Canaan. There, Abram told the nobles of the land that his wife was his sister.”

  That seemed like a crazy thing to say.

  “You don’t understand,” Lot said. “Sarai is a stunning beauty, the most beautiful among women. Abram feared those of Pharaoh would kill him and take his wife. She was his half-sister, even though she indeed is his wife.”

  It hadn’t been a lie then, or not a full lie. But its intention was to deceive, to let them believe she was available to be courted, presumably.

  “Sarai has never borne Abram a son. She’s barren, perhaps because of Abram’s lie to Pharaoh’s people.”

  I frowned. Abram didn’t sound like an acolyte of a strange god. He sounded like a shrewd, cunning man of the world, knowing when to tell a half-truth to keep safe.

  “The lie caught up with my uncle,” Lot said. “Pharaoh took Sarai into his court because he marveled at her beauty. Pharaoh didn’t sleep with her, but he planned to make her his wife. It was good for Pharaoh and Egypt he didn’t sleep with Sarai.”

  “Why is that?”

  Was that a half-smirk on Lot’s face? “After taking Sarai, a plague struck Pharaoh’s household. Soon, Pharaoh learned the reason for this. He’d offended God Most High by taking Abram’s wife. In a dream, God told Pharaoh that if he touched Sarai, slept with her, he would die. Eventually, Pharaoh learned that she was Abram’s wife. He learned that Abram had lied to him. Instead of killing Abram, however, Pharaoh gave my uncle great riches, mostly in herd animals, and sent him, and us, away. That…” Lot nodded. “That was the real beginning of our problems.”

  “Riches are a problem?” I asked.

  Lot snorted softly. “Our herds grew great indeed, those of Abram and me. Unfortunately, that brought strife, until there was fighting among our herdsmen over who would get to graze where.”

  I nodded. “It is ever thus with wealthy and powerful men, I have observed. They can’t seem to live in peace and be happy with their good fortune. They judge themselves by whether they exceed others nearby. Do other have more? Who gets the best lands, the best beasts or women. They strive with each other and often ruin their own good fortunes.”

  “I have seen this also. Perhaps I…I was one of those men of which you speak. I lost some respect for Abram in Egypt. I could have done more to smooth the strife between our men.”

  Lot paused then, gazing unfocused into the distance, as if thinking. Eventually, he spoke.

  “Finally, Abram acted to resolve the situation. One day, my uncle took me to a mountain. He showed me the land of Canaan and said, ‘If you go east, I’ll go west. If you go north, I’ll go south. Chose where you would thrive.’ I looked about me and saw the Vale of Siddim. I noted its lushness. It was like that of Eden. In my greed, I didn’t say, ‘No. You chose, Uncle. You’re the one God Most High has spoken to.’ Instead, I showed Abram my choice. I believed that in the Vale of Siddim I would become even greater than Abram, increasing my wealth ten or twentyfold.

  “Abram and I parted as friends and countrymen, each taking his family and flocks with him. I headed here, in the direction of Sodom. Here, I’ve come closer year by year, growing rich and waxing more important. The men of Sodom have treated me well because they wish to gain from trade. Now, I live a mere mile from the city. I’ve wondered at times if I should go and sit in the city gate. I haven’t yet, and—”

  Lot turned to me. “I’m glad I helped you, Damon. I’m glad we’ve had time together to talk. There’s trouble brewing, as you know. Fourteen years ago, Chedorlaomer conquered the Vale of Siddim, putting us under tribute. Fourteen years ago, he was unconquerable. We threw off his yoke, believing him weakened from that time. Now, though…

  “Bera, the king of Sodom has begun to fear as one by one our allies have been defeated. This has happened before we could marshal together into one giant host. We could have overpowered the kings of the East. I’ve heard Bera boast about making the Eastern kings slaves, cutting off their thumbs and forcing them to feed under the royal table like dogs. Now—”

  Lot had a stricken look. “I wasn’t supposed to have said that. Damon, will you keep these things between us?”

  “You mean the last part concerning King Bera’s fear?”

  “Yes!”

  “Of course I will. You’ve done me great service and favor. I’ll never forget it. But enough about that. Please tell me more about the kings of the East and their latest conquests. Also, is your Uncle Abram going to join those of Sodom to fight Chedorlaomer?”

  Lot studied me shrewdly. Had I said too much about Abram? “It’s time you and I spoke honestly about King Chedorlaomer. Are you willing to tell me what you know about him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” Lot said, “Then let us speak honestly on this touchy subject.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Since your coming,” Lot said, “we’ve learned that Chedorlaomer smote the Horites at Mount Seir. Afterward, the Eastern army swung wide, almost as if avoiding the Cities of the Plain. Chedorlaomer attacked wherever Amorite tribesmen gathered to stop him. The Easterners have burned endless villages and put thousands of men, women and children to the halter, forcing them to march behind the victorious host. It’s a great caravan of captives and wagons of loot.

  “Bera has called his brother kings of the Vale of Siddim. They’re planning to combine their armies and march out to face and defeat Chedorlaomer.

  “Chedorlaomer has smashed all possible allies except for a few western Amorite tribes and my Uncle Abram. I doubt any of them are interested in helping the Cities of the Plain, though.”

  “Chedorlaomer is finally marching for the Vale of Siddim?” I asked.

  Lot nodded. “The army of the kings of the East went farther south and then west than any of us expected. Now, that army is turning east for the Vale of Siddim, the target from the beginning.”

  “Chedorlaomer first swung south under the Vale of Siddim?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And they the army went west of the Vale?”

  “Killing and scattering Amorites that might have heeded the call of Sodom and Gomorrah,” Lot said.

  “Chedorlaomer knows what he’s doing,” I said.

  “We can only hope his soldiers are tired, wounded and ready for a rest.”

  I’d heard others say that, Kron the champion for one. It had proved to be a vain hope.

  “You must tell me what you know about Chedorlaomer and his host, and what you learned fighting with the Emim.”