“Ahhh.” Rigi turned to see Lonka, Siare, and Shona all peering through the doorway. Lonka seemed especially pleased. “The Wise One is well dressed indeed,” he stated. The trio disappeared.
“What does he mean?” Her mother frowned, more with confusion than anger, Rigi hoped.
Rigi guessed, “Mother, this color is darker than the current mode, but it is almost the shade upper Stamm Staré females wear to announce that they have full mate portions and are ready to establish a household. I told the tailor to select the color she thought best suited to the design, and that was not one of the forbidden shades.” Rigi thought a little lighter would have been better, but she certainly was not going to fuss at this point. Not a week before the official religious ceremony and dance!
“I see. Even so, that color, so dark . . .” She circled Rigi once more.
“It will make her hands more visible,” her father pointed out.
“There is that.” Mrs. deStella-Bernardi sighed. “Very well. You may wear it. Have you notified your escort of the color?”
“No, ma’am. I left him a message. He and his men are training at the moment.”
“Well, at least we do not have to worry about your asking the same gentleman as one of the other ladies, as happened last season.” Her mother sat firmly. “And you will not disappear into the floral decorations. However, I am a touch concerned by the guest list. His Excellency will be escorting Miss Leopoldi, and I do not know how that will affect presentation order.” She rubbed her forehead. “She will expect to go last, even though Miss Deleon has precedence as the colonel’s daughter instead of niece.”
“I believe that is for Mrs. Brown and the matrons to decide, Ma’am,” Rigi ventured. She did not want another lecture on who sat with whom and who had social presence before whom. The Tradition held that all were equal, and if she wanted to push matters, Rigi should go last because of birthdate and her father’s position with the Company. As she considered it, Rigi started to wonder if it were too late to run away to the woods, or see if Aunt Kay needed an assistant for a project on the other side of the planet. “And of all of us, Mrs. Brown has the most experience and best sense of taste and judgment in these matters.”
Her mother's small frown remained unchanged. “Indeed, Auriga, but I do not care to have a scene.”
“I’m sure there will not be any scenes. Miss Deleon is a lovely young lady, ma’am, and Miss Leopoldi no doubt has been presented once already, at Home.” Rigi hoped so. And Miss Deleon and the governor would pull every last bit of attention away from Rigi and Martinus and Tomás. Which was how it should be, really.
“It is decided, Rigi, so go change,” her father ordered with a wink.
“Yes, sir.” She hurried upstairs and took off the dress, careful not to snag the delicate loop-work and designs on the edges of the bands of trim. She considered sitting down to transcribe another account, but decided against it. She had ten left, and she was tired. Better to do the work when she was fresh and paying full attention. Rigi checked the dress off her mental preparation list, put on a house-dress and loose trousers, and looked at her messages. One from Tomás had come in, and she opened the file.
Rigi returned to the family room and wondered what to do. Tell her mother right now, and hope for the best, she decided. Although leaving a note, then climbing out the window, down the edge of the verandah, and hiding in the woods sounded better and better. Stink-pigs, striped-lions, and wombeast stampedes posed less danger than her mother’s temper right now. Except Martinus would probably make too much noise on the roof and give her away. “Mother, Tomás answered my message.”
“And?”
Rigi took a deep breath and braced. “He has been honored with the privilege of escorting Miss Leopoldi. Captain Prananda asks if perhaps Cyril might stand in, or Lt. Deleon?”
“What?” Her mother’s eyes flashed open so wide that Rigi wondered if they might fall out of her head, and she flushed red with anger. “Who?”
“General Zia informed Col. Deleon of the arrangement this morning.”
Her mother stood, arms stiff at her sides. “I shall speak with Mrs. Brown, and with Mrs. Col. Deleon this very evening.”
Rigi wanted to hide under the chair. “Ma’am, this would be a wonderful advancement for Tomás’s career, and I’m certain Col. Deleon and General Zia have only the best intent,” she tried to be tactful. “Would it be better perhaps to wait and see what Mrs. Brown says tomorrow, after it is announced officially?”
“Most certainly not Auriga Maris Regina. You may not care to disrupt General Zia’s plans for Tomás, but this is a slight and most inappropriate.” She stormed out of the room, marching down the hallway to her office. Rigi hid her face in her hands. She shouldn’t have said anything.
Her father walked over and patted her shoulder. She sniffed, “I’m sorry, sir. I should have stayed quiet. Mother wouldn’t dare protest at the dance.”
“I fear that you are incorrect in your assessment of your mother’s approach to certain social matters.” He sighed and patted her again. “Cyril cannot serve as your escort, since he is your brother. But Lt. Deleon would not be a problem, even though his sister is being presented as well. It will sort itself out.”
“I hope so. Governor Leopoldi does not seem to be a forgiving man, or one who takes slights well, sir.”
He frowned down at her. “What do you mean?”
“He and another gentleman tried to go into the Place of Refuge without asking the Elders, since it is, purportedly, not officially a religious worship site.” Rigi looked down. “He thought I was a child, or Makana’s servant. I didn’t say anything, sir, although the Speaker addressed me directly and I had to answer. I, ah,” she looked up again. “I do not believe that the gentleman with His Excellency spoke Staré. He couldn’t tell male from female, either, and thought that the Speaker was a hopling based on her size and coloring.”
Her father covered his eyes with one hand. “Crap. I’d hoped that story was a nasty bit of gossip. I heard it from Jaihu.”
“Sir, may I run away and join a starship crew, or go work as a fruit sorter for the rest of the season?”
“No, because that would leave Cyril, the staff, and I to bear your mother’s disappointment, unless I can come with you.” The glint of humor in his eye made her feel better.
“Mother might notice your absence, sir.”
He ruffled her hair. “Oh, yes. While we are talking Staré and people being foolish?”
“What did Uncle Eb do this time, besides forgetting his wedding anniversary date?”
Her father hid his smile with his hand. “Did he? I wondered what the explosion from that direction was. All is explained. Ahem.” He lowered the hand. “No, Shona has decided, at last, for reasons only known to himself, to take an apprentice. He wants a young one, who he will not have to re-train. And there is an orphaned female, third Stamm, who seems to fit his qualifications list.”
Rigi blinked. “Nahla? She—Both parents?” How terrible!
“Both parents and two siblings and the grandparents on both sides. Worse, she’s one of the four naturally immune, the only one who did not become resistant through repeated exposure like Kor was. No one will take her in.” He sighed. “The Temple has agreed to help support her as an act of mercy until she has a skill or finds a mate. And nine years is too young for a mate.”
“Indeed, sir. Do we need to add space?”
“No, she will stay in the Staré housing, in the little one that Siare prefers not to use when she’s off duty.” Siare commuted to be with her mate in the Staré district south of Sogdia. “But do not tell your mother yet. I believe it would be better for Shona to start training her, and then for your mother discover her presence.” He looked a little guilty. “I didn’t discuss it with her.”
“No, I understand, sir. She’s a little preoccupied at the moment, and Paul takes a great deal of time and attention.”
“Wise child.” He winked and returned t
o his seat as Lonka brought in a tea and coffee tray, ear-bowed, and departed. “Wise Lonka.”
The formal religious ceremony marking Rigi’s entry into full adulthood came as a blessed moment of calm and peace amid the storm of her mother’s attempts to sort out the dance and visits that would follow. Rigi wondered at times if she could just send Martinus with a voice recording. The dress almost fit him, and he balanced fairly well on his hind legs. Except her mother’s wrath would make the Staré tales of the destruction of the First World seem positively bucolic and sweet. “I’m glad I named you Martinus and not Melissa,” Rigi told her m-dog. “Mother might be arranging an escort for you too, otherwise.” But the Temple service could not be affected by precedence, tantrums, or lengthy discussions of pedigree and employment.
For the last time Rigi took her place seated with the other young girls. They ranged in age from eight to seventeen, and several eyed her with envy. Rigi adjusted her white gloves and tried to be calm and to focus on the rituals. The two great chimes sounded, one deep and rolling like the sea of stars, and the other sweet and bright like dancing water. The Matron and Guardian rose from their places behind the men and women respectively, walked down the central division of the inner Temple, and bowed to the symbols of the Creator and Creatrix, equal and different. “O come, let us honor our makers,” the pair sang in unison.
“All honor to the Creator and Creatrix, makers of all the worlds and the stars between,” the worshippers sang back.
“Praise and honor be to them, and to all who serve their fellow creatures,” the Matron responded.
A deep voice chanted, “They shall be protected and guided, led to the paths of righteousness and peace, of blessing and good things.” The Guardian, a large, pale gentleman, turned to the women’s side. “All who take the duty of the created, rise and so show.”
Hands shaking, Rigi stood with the adult women for the first time. The Guardian pointed to her, “Who stands among the young?”
She gulped. “Auriga Maris Regina, daughter of Acherna and Timothy, stands to take up her duties.”
The Matron looked around. “Knows anyone here this child of creation?”
To Rigi’s surprise most of the worshippers stood. They responded, “We know this child.”
“I have seen her perform acts of mercy,” a woman, one of the nurses, chanted.
“And acts of service,” a man added.
A second man declared, “She serves the servant.”
Almost two thirds of the congregation recited something they had seen her do, or knew of. Rigi felt embarrassed, terribly embarrassed by the attention.
“She has taken the duties of defense and not been found wanting.” Rigi almost fainted from surprise as the rangemaster spoke up. He was a neoTraditionalist?
“She has improved upon the gifts given to her by Creator and Creatrix,” a thin, older woman’s voice sang. “And she has sought the council of the wise and followed that council.”
A rustle of surprise, and the Retired Matron joined the two leaders standing before the symbols. They stepped aside, yielding the place of honor to their senior. “Come forward, she who would leave behind childhood.” As the other worshippers sat, Rigi stepped into the open space between men and women. “Do you know what it is you move into?”
Rigi began to dance. Not with her whole body, no, the Creator and Creatrix had not given her that skill. But her hands and arms moved, telling the story of childhood and adulthood. Rigi swayed, concentrating on getting everything in the proper order and without making a mistake. Some of the gestures required long, slender fingers that Rigi lacked. She turned in place, facing the gathered faithful, and danced the steps of adulthood, backing one step toward the Matron and Guardian with each eight gestures, keeping the rhythm going in her mind and shoulders. When she reached eight counts of eight, she turned again and knelt, hands and arms still moving, and bowed to the Creator and Creatrix. Rigi lowered her hands to the floor and waited, trying not to pant.
“Rise, Auriga Maris Regina, star-daughter, and take up the duties of womanhood and the rights as well.” The Guardian and Matron helped her stand, and the Retired Matron hung a tiny star made of silver wire around her neck. Inside the star a bead rolled, carved with the symbols of Creator and Creatrix. Rigi tucked the necklace inside her collar, and the Retired Matron gave her a sad smile. Even here, on Shikhari, they dared not proclaim to all their faith so openly as that. Rigi curtsied and took a place with the adult women.
“So it is witnessed!” The three leaders sang. They turned and all present bowed to the images of Creator and Creatrix. “Let us praise and sing in thanks, for a child grown and gifts given.”
After the service ended Rigi attended her first women’s meeting. By custom it was short, simply adding her name to the list of those who could be called to serve and who needed to vote on matters concerning Temple events. But to see her name in the book—it brought home just how serious her promise was. The duty books had been used to persecute neoTraditionalists in the past, and now Rigi would be counted among the membership in all ways. She shivered as she wrote her name in clear dark letters.
After a light supper, Rigi collapsed into bed and slept through the night. The next morning, she found a note in her comm box from Tomás. “Remind me never to upset your mother. Or Aunt Kay.”
“Oh no,” Rigi whispered. “Oh dear, what has mother done?”
Rigi found out two nights later.
6
Social Graces and Lack Thereof
“Tomás will be your escort, Auriga,” her mother informed her as they got out of the flitter and began walking toward the Brown residence.
Rigi almost tripped, barely catching herself and turning the stumble into a quick double-step to get out of the way of another guest. Behind her, Cyril seemed distracted, probably because Miss Sorenson appeared to have caught the hem of her skirt on the buckle of one shoe. Rigi added rough-edged trim on shoes to her list of “things never to wear.” The stumble gave her time to think before speaking. “I see.” Would the change ruin his career? He was her fourth cousin, and a friend, but she didn’t want to cause him trouble with the Royal Governor, especially if the gentleman recognized her as the girl with the wombow cart at the Place of Refuge. Rigi didn’t say anything more, concentrating on not tripping on the slightly uneven pavers in the courtyard garden. The sound of the fountain brought back memories she’d prefer not to consider, and she shivered despite the evening’s warmth and the heat radiating up from the stones underfoot.
“Miss Bernardi!” Mrs. Brown swept down on her as soon as they entered the receiving hall. “Acherna, Timothy, so good to see you.” The women air-kissed each other’s cheeks, and Rigi handed her shawl to a patient-looking fourth Stamm hopling who held out cloth-covered forefeet. “Exactly, Thal. Good,” Mrs. Brown told the hopling. Once the young female took the shawls away, Mrs. Brown explained, “We took in three hopling orphans and are teaching them skills and Common until they can find foster families. One of each Stamm we have staff from.”
Rigi suddenly wondered how many hoplings and pouchlings had been left by the fur-drop epidemic and where they had ended up. She’d assumed that the other Staré had taken them in, but had they? Should she ask? Yes, but not tonight.
“This way, Miss Bernardi.” Rigi followed Mrs. Brown into the main hall. Flowers and ribbons in Crown blue, white, and green hung in swags from the columns surrounding the main dancing area and the side section where tables were being covered with food. “You are the first of those being presented to arrive. However, you will be presented second, after Miss Deleon. Mister Patel is escorting Miss Deleon.” The older woman’s lips pursed and the corners of her mouth curved down into the slightest of mous. “His Excellency has favored Miss Leopoldi by acting as her escort. I am told he was most insistent, despite tradition and protocol.”
“Ah. Perhaps manners on Home have shifted, ma’am. I am given to understand that Miss Leopoldi was presented at Her Majesty�
�s court, and it is said that protocols differ somewhat there.” Rigi had no idea, but she didn’t want things to start off on the wrong foot.
“Perhaps.” Mrs. Brown looked over Rigi’s head, across the room. “And here is Capt. Prananda. Good. I do not enjoy repeating myself more than is necessary.”
Rigi smiled as Tomás walked up to them, hat tucked under his left arm. He winked, then made a dramatic three-fold bow, swirling his hand at his forehead, heart, and waist level. Rigi curtsied in her best dancing-lesson manner, while struggling not to giggle. Proper young ladies did not giggle so much. Tomás did not make it easy, however, striking a pose stolen from one of the romance holo-dramas while Mrs. Brown turned to answer another guest’s question. “It is good to see you well, Capt. Prananda,” Rigi offered.
“Likewise, Miss Bernardi. It takes a truly beautiful gem to fit such an elegant setting.” He struggled to keep a straight face as he spoke, quoting that same holo-drama.
For the first time in a week, Rigi relaxed. “And a master artist to recognize both gem and mount.” His mouth twitched, then he sobered abruptly.
“As I was saying,” Mrs. Brown began, the full weight of her attention once more upon them. “You will go second, Miss Bernardi, after Miss Deleon. Instead of each of you having a dance, we will wait until Miss Leopoldi is presented and has her dance, then the first couples dance will begin. It will be ‘Flowers in Winter.’ Then the floor will open. I am informed that His Excellency prefers not to infringe upon younger couples, so precedence will not be enforced on the floor.” She sounded relieved. “However, Colonel Deleon will be in attendance, so please be mindful and if you sense differences of opinion beginning, Captain, please see if they can be soothed.”
Stamme: Shikari Book Three Page 9