Free Sarah: Women of Genesis: 1 (Women of Genesis (Forge)) by Orson Scott Card Page B

years ago could not be remembered now.
     
    When Kay had already formed up his men to escort Abram’s household into Egypt, he asked, almost as an afterthought, “And this is the princess, yes? Your wife, yes?”
     
    Abram hesitated for only a moment, and then answered with a laugh. “My wife, come on such a journey? You don’t know princesses! This is my sister, Milcah.”
     
    Sarai had long since learned how not to let her face or body reveal surprise—or anything else. A king’s daughter must master that skill, at least, even if she was intended for the temple.
     
    Kay turned to her. “The sister of Abram is very beautiful,” he said.
     
    “Pharaoh’s voice at the border is sweet as honey,” she replied.
     
    “Where is the lady’s husband? Is he not with this party?”
     
    Abram laughed. “Husband? And where would I have found a husband for my sister? You see how my herds are depleted. I haven’t the bride-price for a great man, and I love my sister too much to give her to a peasant.”
     
    “Some women are their own bride-price,” said Kay.
     
    But he had gone too far, even for an official of a great king. “You speak like a suitor,” said Abram coldly, “and not like a soldier.”
     
    Kay did not seem at all abashed, or even embarrassed. He simply bade them stay near the road and follow him and his men toward the first town.
     
    Sarai was careful not to confer with Abram for some time, waiting until the soldiers were some distance ahead. By then Abram had already passed the word through one of his servants that Sarai was to be addressed by the name of Abram’s sister-in-law Milcah, who lived in Haran, in the house of Abram’s father Terah far to the north.
     
    “How did I become your sister?” she asked him softly.
     
    “When he asked me about you,” said Abram, “I knew by the power of God that if I told him the truth, I would be killed.”
     
    “But you already told him your name,” said Sarai. “If they blame Abram the son of Terah for the death of Suwertu, what difference does it make who I am?”
     
    “This isn’t about Suwertu,” said Abram. “He knew that Abram son of Terah had married Sarai the daughter of the king-in-exile of Ur, and I knew in that moment that if they thought I was bringing you into Egypt as my wife, you would soon be a widow.”
     
    “Why?”
     
    “So Pharaoh could marry you himself.”
     
    “But . . . that’s absurd. Pharaohs marry their sisters, everyone knows that.”
     
    “Yes. Which means that something is terribly wrong here.”
     
    “One thing, certainly. You just presented me as a single woman, and here I am dressed like a married one.”
     
    “And he said nothing about it, though if he knows anything about the way we dress, he could see the difference,” said Abram. “So he’s no doubt wondering if I lied, or if you’re married, or perhaps widowed.”
     
    “Abram, if the daughter of an exiled king is desirable, why wouldn’t the sister of a desert priest-king be just as useful?”
     
    “Do you think I haven’t thought of that?” said Abram.
     
    “So there’s no danger?”
     
    “No danger?” He looked grim. “There’s very grave danger. The first Pharaohs originally came from our country, the grasslands of the east—that’s why the Egyptian language is so close to ours. Perhaps Pharaoh is trying to assert that ancient authority. Or perhaps he fears it. And . . . I have the very authority the original Pharaohs claimed to have. Pharaoh might regard me as a threat, or he might regard me as someone worth linking himself to. As my sister, you may be even more useful to him than you would have been as my widow.”
     
    “Useful?” said Sarai. “How am I to be useful to Pharaoh without dishonoring myself and betraying you and disobeying God?”
     
    “I tell you what Pharaoh might be thinking. What God is thinking, I don’t know.”
     
    This was not the comfort Sarai had been hoping for. “What will I