Rook

by Robin Roseau

  I slowly approached. As I drew close, attention shifted to me, accompanied by smiles, not least of which was from the Goddess. She floated to her feet and pulled me into an embrace. “Did you have a good afternoon?”

  “I did,” I said. “Is there time for me to join your game?”

  “Of course.” She took my hand and pulled me towards the circle, and by the time we arrived, there was a fresh hole between Larien and Terél. The Goddess released me, and I sat down between them.

  I gave them each a quick cheek kiss then asked, “What are we playing?”

  “Everyone is playing,” Larien said, speaking the Language of the Goddess.

  “Even our Prestainamatta?”

  The Goddess laughed, and Larien said, “She is the judge. We’re working on accents.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “I suddenly remembered I have to...” I trailed off, unable to think of an excuse, especially as the Goddess was waving her finger at me.

  “We are teaching words,” Terél continued. “And short phrases. We teach five words or phrases, and then we have a quiz. We say the word in both Altearan and Framaran, and then you have to say the word we learned in the Language of the Goddess. You get a point if you say the wrong word and you get a point if the word you say is in a poor accent and two points if you aren’t even understandable.”

  “Points are bad?”

  “Points are bad,” she confirmed. “When you reach ten points, you have to wear the mask. Sometimes you only wear the mask until the next person’s turn, and she takes the mask from you. But Nissi has had it for three turns now. However, Lamarta is about to take it from her, I believe.”

  “This is a good game,” I declared. I looked around the circle. “Is it fair that I start late with no points?”

  “You’ll catch up,” Larien declared. She turned to Lamarta and said a word in both Altearan and Framaran.

  “Ra-“ said Lamarta. “Ra-. Ramenargot.”

  Mandi shook her head, but it was Terél who said in Altearan, “I’m sorry, Lamarta. That is the wrong word.” She spoke slowly and carefully. Lamarta appeared to understand, because she nodded. And then Terél looked to where the Goddess sat. “Prestainamatta, her accent?” she asked in the Language of the Goddess.

  Lamarta’s accent wasn’t as bad as mine, or so I thought, but I wondered how lenient the Goddess would be. She held up one finger and said, “One point.”

  “One point,” Mandi said in Altearan.

  “Lamarta has nine points,” said the Goddess, and Mandi translated that as well. I felt a rush of pride for Mandi, and when Lamarta nodded again, for her as well.

  Terél offered another word to Radí. She got the word right but lost two points for her accent. She was at five. Even Larien and Terél took turns, although they lost no points. And then it was my turn.

  “We can ask any of the words we have taught, Yalla,” Terél said. “They are all words you should know by now.” She smiled and gave me my word. I translated, and I knew it was correct. Terél agreed with me, and we looked to the Goddess. One point.

  The girls were all surprised. “But she’s the High Priestess,” Tally said.

  “Tally, do I have a strong accent when I speak Altearan?” She nodded her head. “What about Mandi and Nissi?”

  She looked at them. “They have the same accent Larien has.”

  I was surprised by that, and I turned to look at Larien.

  “There are regional accents,” Larien explained.

  I nodded at that then looked back at Tally. “I seem to be good at learning languages,” I explained to Tally. “But I can’t seem to shake my accent. I speak Framaran with an accent as well, even though I’ve spent years trying to talk like Princess Juleena and Queen Ralalta.” I smiled. “I have one point.”

  We completed the circle, with most of us earning a point, although I was proud when Nissi got her word correct and the Goddess smiled and hugged her for her pronunciation. I couldn’t realize it at the time, of course, but over the next two years, my daughters would learn the Language of the Goddess in as perfect an accent as anyone could hope.

  Having the Goddess herself talking to them as much as she did probably was part of the reason for that.

  Lamarta “won” the mask from a relieved Nissi on the next time around. And then it was time for Larien and Terél to teach more words.

  We played for another hour, having fun. The girls were a joy, which pleased me immensely. The Goddess was exuberant whenever someone spoke her words properly, hugging and kissing Mandi and Nissi and clapping for the rest.

  I wouldn’t accuse them of it, but I thought Larien and Terél manipulated the game such that I wore the mask my share of time. Only once did they ask about a word I didn’t know; I’d been speaking the Language of the Goddess for seven years, after all. But the Goddess was not gentle with me when it came to judging my accent, and there were a few times I lost two points for my accent.

  I wasn’t actually surprised by that.

  And so it wasn’t that I won unwanted points any faster than the girls; I actually earned them somewhat more slowly. But at least twice when I had eight or nine points, I was sure Terél asked me words she knew I could pronounce properly, but then one of the girls, with a score similar to mine, would win the mask, and then at the next opportunity, Terél asked me a word I was sure to mangle. So I’d win the mask, taking it after the current girl had only worn it a minute or two. The times this happened, none of the other girls was near her own ten points, so I ended up wearing the mask longer than I might have, as I had to wait for someone to earn her ten points.

  I didn’t mind, although the girls seemed to take special delight seeing me wear it, and when Alta wandered by, she especially enjoyed it.

  We chased her away; she wasn’t allowed to learn the Language, after all. But it was only a few minutes later before Ralalta joined us. I felt it likely Alta had told her about the mask, as she looked at me, perhaps hoping to see it, but it had passed on to Radí by then.

  We chased her away, too, but at that, the Goddess stared after her.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked her.

  She turned to me. “No.” She smiled. “Tell Terél to ask you harder words.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  Her smile faded. “Yalla. Tell her what I said.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Of course.”

  * * * *

  It was later, as we were walking to the pavilion for dinner, that the Goddess stepped to my side, took my hand, and pulled me to a stop.

  “Yalla,” she said. “I gave up much to become Goddess in Alteara.”

  “You’ve never talked about that before.”

  “And I’m not going to. I gave up much, and while I willingly paid the price, there was one price I did not properly appreciate when I paid it. Do you think you can guess what that is?”

  “I’m sorry, Prestainamatta, but I don’t know.”

  “Everything I do, I do only through the High Priestesses. I cannot do so much as whisper in someone’s ear without you, Yalla. I love all my people, although I love some more than others. You I love more than all others, but Larien and Terél are amongst my favorites. When I ask you to tell one of them something, and you refuse me, you remind me I cannot touch them myself. I cannot hold them myself. I cannot whisper in their ears and tell them how I feel about them.”

  I immediately understood what she was telling me. “Oh, Prestainamatta,” I said. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

  “I do not expect you to repeat everything I say to you, but if I specifically tell you to repeat something, I am not doing so to tease you.”

  “I am so sorry. I will never do that again.”

  She hugged and kissed me, then whispered to me, “Thank you.”

  And I never did it again.

  * * * *

  We arrived at the pavilion. Nearly everyone was there: a goddess, a king, two queens, three princesses, several priestesses and a
colytes, a nanny, two maid-spies, and one former maid. As had been our custom, we began with drinks, some sort of fruit for the younger girls and wine for those of an appropriate age.

  The Goddess, Mesenorié, Tradódid, Alta, Ralalta, and I had come to a sort of informal agreement. We decided that the six of us were co-hosts of our group. That may have seemed like a strange agreement, given that it was the crown paying for everything, and the royal guards that saw to our arrangements. But it had implications as to how our time together was spent. It meant that none of us was required to consult with the others before initiating a conversation or event.

  I didn’t have to ask permission from Tradódid and Mesenorié, and they didn’t from me. Equally as important, Ralalta was being treated like family, which is what she wanted, rather than a visiting monarch, which would have been a diplomatic mess.

  Or so I was told, anyway.

  And so, when Ralalta spoke, loudly enough for everyone in the pavilion to hear, it was not at all odd. “I’d like to hear what everyone did this afternoon. Who would like to go first?”

  And as a group, every pair of eyes turned to me, even that of the Goddess.

  “I guess I’ll go first,” I said in the Language of the Goddess. I then explained how I had gone to the village green and accepted whatever conversations came to me. I finished by saying, “I invited someone to join us. She should be here shortly.”

  I learned some of the priestesses had used the afternoon to relax from travels. As expected, Tradódid and Mesenorié met with the village council. I wasn’t surprised to learn Alta had joined them. I was only mildly surprised that Ralalta had sat in on the meeting as well, but it was no surprise she’d offered good insight during the discussion.

  The girls had studied, but they’d made games out of all their lessons.

  It was during that discussion that one of the guards stepped up to my shoulder. “There is someone here. She indicates she is expected.”

  “Of course,” I said over my shoulder. “Please have someone show her here.”

  I stepped from the pavilion, and so I was watching and waiting when two of the guards escorted Saroo to me. I thanked them and then took her hands, squeezing them for a moment before slipping her arm in mine and turning back to the pavilion.

  It was only a moment before every pair of eyes turned to me. “This is Saroo,” I announced. “We met this afternoon, and I invited her to join us for dinner.” I then provided introductions, beginning with those closest. There were quite a few names for Saroo to remember, but she made a point of repeating Mandi’s and Nissi’s names several times. She spoke Framaran to Ralalta, and then we arrived at Alta.

  “Saroo, this is one of my wives, Princess Lásenalta. Alta, this is-“

  “Besasároolia,” Alta cut me off, staring at the woman. “How have you been?”

  “Ah, you know each other,” I said. “You didn’t mention that, Saroo.”

  “It was some years ago,” Saroo replied. She clasped hands briefly with Alta. Tradódid and Mesenorié also knew her, but they were not as warm as I might have expected. I decided it wasn’t my problem, although I thought it was odd it hadn’t come up this afternoon.

  We made small talk, and then it was time to sit for dinner.

  It was unclear where the Goddess would choose to sit. Sometimes she sat with the girls; sometimes she sat beside me. This evening, she chose to claim my side, and Alta claimed the other, placing Saroo across the table beside Ralalta.

  The Goddess then proceeded to put me to work, dominating conversation throughout the meal. She moved the conversation from one topic to another, at some point or other including everyone at the long table. This certainly wasn’t the first time she had done this, but it always left me overwhelmed, and I tended to find myself repeating her words without really thinking anymore. I couldn’t really have repeated the conversations, and while I was the one repeating her words, I wasn’t really a part of the conversation myself.

  I thought she might be doing it to punish me for earlier. I was wrong. I would discover she’d been keeping me distracted.

  Of course, the meal finally ended. We all stood to stretch our legs. Mellara and Riesa saw to the younger girls, and I found myself in a conversation with Ralalta and Mesenorié, the Goddess at my side.

  But then she said, “I’m going to sit with Whitarmandi and Darnisom for a while, but if you need me, you know how to call me.”

  I used that as an opportunity to withdraw from the conversation. I looked around, but I didn’t see either Alta or Saroo. I stepped over to Está. “Did you see where Alta went? Did Saroo leave?”

  “I believe she is talking with the princess,” Está replied. “I believe they went that way.” She gestured.

  It wasn’t yet full dark and wouldn’t be for some time, but the sun was well below the trees surrounding our camp, and so light was dim. I went for a walk through camp, looking for my wife and listening for voices. Eventually I drew near the tent I shared with Alta, and that was when I heard my wife and guest speaking.

  I was about to call for them when I heard my wife say, “You still haven’t said what you’re doing here.”

  “She’s lovely,” Saroo replied.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I wanted to meet the woman you chose over me.”

  At that, I froze.

  “That was a long time ago, Besasároolia.”

  “Eight years isn’t so long,” Saroo replied. “Not that I can blame you. She’s lovely, and that’s after giving birth twice. I imagine she was quite stunning.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “You definitely traded in for a younger model, but I suppose I couldn’t really hope to compete with a high priestess. But does she do the things for you that I used to do?”

  I’d almost decided I heard enough, and I turned to walk away. I didn’t quite hear what Alta replied, but Saroo wasn’t attempting to be as discreet.

  “She’s lovely,” she repeated again. “But could she be any more naïve? Her life might have started out rough, but does she even know about intrigue? I bet she’s eaten alive at court. Oh, wait. I bet you don’t let her near court. Does she know how carefully everyone protects her from learning anything that might offend her immature sensibilities?”

  I froze, my back stiffening. I nearly spun around to confront them but then changed my mind.

  I stomped off.

  I considered my choices. The first, of course, was to run to someone else, possibly the Goddess, possibly Larien and Terél.

  It wasn’t until I reached the pavilion that I decided. I stopped, standing still for a minute, then put on a careful smile. I stepped forward and searched with my eyes. I caught Ralalta’s eye, and we both offered a head gesture. I turned right, and we came together in a little space of our own. I stepped to the queen’s side and slipped an arm about her waist. She wrapped her own arm around me, and we leaned together.

  “Find them?”

  “Mother, can I ask you something?” She smiled. She loved when I called her that, and I did, too. She nodded agreement, and I continued. “Please answer honestly.”

  “I have never lied to you, Yalla.”

  “I bet you’ve chosen how to answer very carefully, and more than once.”

  “Perhaps, but I’ve never mislead you, either.”

  “When you learned Juleena had eyes for me, how did you feel about that?”

  “I couldn’t have been more pleased, Yalla.”

  “Why? I mean... I was young. I still didn’t know anything. I’m not sure I really know anything now, and it’s years later. Almost anyone would be more help to her than I am.”

  “What’s bringing on this question?”

  “Will you answer?”

  “Yalla, you were -- and remain -- exactly what Juleena needed most. First, you’re intelligent and capable of learning anything you need to learn. While you came to us so rough-“

  “And ignorant,” I inserted.

  “E
veryone is ignorant about nearly everything,” Ralalta said.

  “You’re not.”

  “I wouldn’t last a week on The Hippa, Yalla. I don’t know how to find water. I don’t know what the dangers are. We can talk about this if you want, or you can choose to agree with me.”

  “Fine. No one knows everything, but I knew less than anyone.”

  “You knew nothing about Framara or living in a city or the goings on in the palace. But you learned all that.”

  “Not all, though, did I?”

  “Are you going to tell me where this is coming from?”

  “Anyone would have been better.”

  “That isn’t at all true. Yes, there was a great deal you didn’t know, and you’re still learning. But you’re quite capable of learning. However, there are things I don’t know how to teach someone.”

  “Like what?”

  “How to smile.” She let me consider that. I knew she wasn’t being entirely literal. “You bring joy with you, Yalla. I don’t know how that happened, given your childhood, but somehow it did.”

  “I didn’t bring it with me,” I said. “I found it in Marport.” I looked away. “Someone helped.”

  “I know she did,” Ralalta replied. “Yalla, since the day you arrived with us, you taught Juleena something I couldn’t. You taught her to enjoy life. She was always so serious, which isn’t entirely bad. It certainly made her effective. But there was a good chance she would grow bitter over time, especially if she married the wrong type of person. And by that I mean almost anyone she might have married.”

  “Alta?”

  “All right. Alta wouldn’t have been a bad choice, but the mix of the three of you is even better. Alta is somewhere between you and Juleena. She is very efficient, but she was of even greater danger of growing bitter. The two of them might have been good together, but they’re both far richer having you.”

  “So I’m like a puppy dog?”

  She sighed. “Yalla, I have nothing but respect for you.”

  I thought about what that meant, to be respected by the most amazing woman I’d ever met. So I thought about it, and then I tightened my arm around her for a minute.