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Rahab. All of the people in the world are descended from His first creations, but only we, the Israelites, have remained faithful to Him, the real Lord. That is why we are His special people.”
    “So you only worship this one god, this Elohim, and you don’t have any other gods or goddesses—is that what you are saying?” It sounded so strange that she wanted to be certain she had understood him properly.
    “Yes.”
    “But you live in the land of Canaan, the land of Baal—”
    Sala cut in before she could finish her thought. “Canaan is our land, the land of the Israelites! Elohim promised it to our people ages ago. It does not belong to you!”
    The conversation was not going the way Rahab had thought it would when she innocently mentioned temples. Sala seemed a different person when he was talking about this god of his.
    Rahab stared down at her feet as she thought. Her sandals were covered with dust, as were her narrow toes and instep, but she scarcely noticed. Her mind was busy trying to grasp what Sala was saying.
    They walked in silence for a while before she looked up and said in the most reasonable voice she could muster, “But Canaan is the home of the Canaanite people, Sala. You and your father and the people of Ramac are the only Israelites I have ever met, ever heard of. You are small and we are big. This can never be your land.”
    She watched as Sala lifted his face and squinted up into the intensely blue sky, as if the answer he sought were written there. “You don’t understand, Rahab. Once Canaan was ours, the home of the Israelites. Elohim told our forefather Abraham that He was giving this land to Abraham and all his descendants. He made a covenant with us, that He would be our God and we would be His people. And as a sign of that, He would give us the land of Caanan.”
    Sala turned his head to look at her. There was a line like a sword between his eyebrows. His voice was no longer passionate; he sounded calm and positve. “Canaan should be our land, Rahab, the land of the Israelites. You will not hold it forever. Our time will come.”
    He was making Rahab nervous. She put a tentative hand on his arm and said anxiously, “Surely it can be both our lands? Why can we not live in peace together?”
    His brow smoothed out and he patted the hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. You’re just a girl; it’s impossible for you to understand these things.”
    His condescension infuriated Rahab more than all his talk. “I understand perfectly well,” she snapped. “You think your god is better than our gods and that Israelites are better than Canaanites. Do you think I am as stupid as that donkey? You couldn’t have made yourself clearer. I just think you are wrong.”
    Sala let out a long slow breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. Let us talk of something else.”
    “Perhaps it would be better not to talk at all for a while,” Rahab replied. “I think I will go and see how Hura is doing.”
    She turned her back on him and made her way down the line of donkeys.

    Ramac was much smaller than Gaza. The walls of the city were made of mud brick, not stone, but they were very high, and the cobbled road from the gates to the waterfront was straight, with a clear view down to the sea. The houses along the main street were square and substantial looking, and Sala’s house was among the grandest of them all. Clearly Lord Nahshon was a rich man.
    What Rahab liked best about Ramac, though, was that you could see the water from almost any point in the city. It shimmered in the sunlight, vast and beautiful, the Great Sea. She thought it was the most wonderful thing she had seen in her life.
    Rahab stayed with Sala’s family for ten days, and much of that time she spent with Sala. His mother and sisters did not speak Canaanite and, since Rahab spoke no Hebrew, the women of the house were unable to communicate with her. Rahab sat and sewed with them for a few