At the other side of the valley, the sun has just begun to rise. At first, its blood-tinged rays shoot straight into my eyes, blinding me. They make me blink, so it takes me time to adjust, to notice how, out of the shimmering air out there, the rays are starting to carve out three distinct silhouettes.
Atop the rocky ridge overlooking the valley, three riders are now coming to a halt. Their stallions snort, scrambling a step or two backward, away from the edge. At last I recognize them: the king, flanked by his general on one side, and his son on the other.
Clasping my lyre tightly, to stop its strings from trembling in the wind, I draw closer. Along the way I try to hide from sight, cowering here and there behind pieces of mossy, soggy turf, which serves me as camouflage. I tell myself, it is time to confuse the enemy. Let him misjudge me.
Here I am. Here I am not.
Here is pretending not to be watching Saul, and not to be listening.
Excerpt from Rise to Power by Uvi Poznansky
The novel is included in At Odds with Destiny
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