by Robin Roseau
“Really,” I said. I took her hands. “She is, however, a chicken.”
“We must be talking about a different Malta. I’m the chicken in our relationship.”
“She asked me to have a conversation with you she should be having herself. It’s a good conversation, and to be honest, I don’t know why she isn’t willing to handle this herself. I think she’s afraid of disappointing you.”
“I think you should just tell me, or I’m going to just make things up.”
“She doesn’t want to wait. She knows you want a spring celebration. She wants something much, much sooner.”
“She does?”
“She does,” I confirmed.
Parmeed began laughing. “It’s not me she’s afraid of. It’s my mother!”
“I’m not sure that’s it.”
“That’s totally it. My mother has been feeding Malta ideas about a gorgeous spring celebration.”
“To which she’ll invite half of Marport.”
“Yes.”
“Has she met you, Parmeed?”
“Apparently not.”
“What do you want?”
“I want Malta and me standing in front of you. Maybe a few others could come. Just a few.”
“Your mother?”
“My immediately family. Malta doesn’t have immediately family, but she has a few close friends.”
“The queen.”
“As a friend. Not as the queen.”
I nodded.
“But mother will throw a cow,” Parmeed said.
I cocked my head, wondering what the poor cow had done to deserve that. Then I shrugged. “Does that change if we promise her a granddaughter to arrive about this time next year?”
Parmeed stilled, then whispered, “How?”
“Malta wants the two of you to travel to Alteara with me for the winter solstice. She wants to ask a favor of our Prestainamatta.”
“The goddess.”
“Yes. You have perhaps noticed that my wives and I have four daughters and nary a man in sight.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Oh,” she said slowly. “Oh. She can do that? I mean. You’re her high priestess.”
“She can, but it might be trickier than that. I’ve taught you what Prestainamatta means. She’s going to ask if you accept her into her heart, and she’s capable of looking.”
“You’re asking if I love her.”
“I am asking if you are able to open your heart to her. It may be that she would do this simply because I asked, or maybe because Malta has been so much help to me, and the two of you have been important in my life, but she may want more than that.”
“We could have babies together,” Parmeed said. Her eyes watered. “I was prepared to be childless, unless we made arrangements. But I could be a mother.”
“Yes,” I said. “I have a few more things to tell you.” I told her the things I had told Malta, and I told her that Malta would allow the choices of who carries the children to be Parmeed’s. Then I told her I would be helping to interview assistants.
“She and I talked about that last night,” Parmeed said. “I asked if you would be able to help.”
“I need to pray on it,” I said. “But I’ll do what I can.”
“How soon could we be married, Yalla?”
“How soon do you wish to be married, Parmeed?”
“This afternoon.”
“All right.”
“I’m kidding.”
“I’m not. Would you like my recommendation?”
“I would love your recommendation, Yalla.”
“We hold a celebration to our Prestainamatta every eighth day. The next is tomorrow. I would recommend the day nine days from now. We will begin with the celebration, and then we would hold the wedding afterwards.”
She smiled. “Mother won’t be able to invite everyone that quickly. She’s going to hate me, Yalla.”
“Does she want grandbabies?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And is she counting on you to produce any?”
“I think she’s given up on that. She’s mollified due to the quality of this match, politically speaking.”
“How do you feel about that.”
“I couldn’t care less about the politics. I love Malta, and I love the way she treats me.”
“Malta is a very good woman. So are you. I can’t imagine a better match for either of you, but that is due in part to Malta having no aspirations greater than the position she already holds.”
“She’d be a good duchess, but she’ll never leave this post, as long as Ralalta will keep her, and I suppose Juleena after Ralalta.” She frowned. “I don’t like thinking about that.”
“No one does,” I said. “Do you want me to speak to your mother?”
She laughed. “Do I risk being called a coward if I say ‘yes’?”
I returned her laugh. “No.”
“Then yes, I’d like that. So. Nine days?”
“Nine days.” I began smiling broadly. “I’m so excited.”
“As am I,” she replied. “Let us talk about children. I believe I need your help, Yalla, if I am going to invite your goddess into my heart the way she requires.”
“You’ll have it,” I said. “Let us start with this.” I stood and stepped to a bookcase, withdrawing one of the inexpensive copies of Nine Little Words. I handed it to her. “I want you to read this. And then I wish you to begin joining me here in my temple, as often as your schedule allows.”
“I’ll make room. When?”
“I pray every morning, but as long as I know when to expect you, I can make that work.”
“I will come with Malta in the morning, then,” she said. Then, somewhat spontaneously, she hugged me tightly. “I think I’m going to find my woman and tell her she’s getting married.”
I laughed. “Good. Do you need my help with planning?”
“I’ll talk to you after I’ve talked to Malta, maybe tomorrow.”
“Perfect.”
* * * *
“She wasn’t excited about your invitation,” Alta said somewhat later. “But she’ll be there.”
“Has she guessed why?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Good. So. Malta and Parmeed are getting married.”
“So I heard,” she said.
“In nine days.”
Larien and Terél had been hovering, and it was Terél that echoed, “Nine days?”
“Nine days,” I said. “And I’ll be working to open her heart to our Prestainamatta.”
“I can help with that,” Alta said. “Nine days.” She laughed. “Lady Reese is going to be vexed.”
“Yes, well. I’ll be calling on her shortly, as soon as someone tells me what to wear.”
“Vestments,” Terél said.
“A gown,” Alta said, “and make her come here.”
“Your leathers,” Larien said. “And go to her. If you wear your vestments, you’re seeing her as the high priestess. If you wear a gown and make her come here, you’re doing it as the queen’s daughter. But if you wear your best leather and go to her home, you’re there as a friend. She can’t forget who you are, but it’s easy to forget you were a friend before you were anything else.”
“Leather,” Alta said.
“Leather,” Terél said.
“You see?” Larien said. “I’m always right.”
“You are,” I said.
* * * *
“Lady Reese,” I said. We embraced briefly, and then she invited me further into her home.
“This is an interesting look, Lady Yallameenara,” she said.
“I hold many roles,” I said. “I am the queen’s adopted daughter. I am the high priestess. But I am also a friend to your family.”
“Ah. Is this to be a serious conversation?”
“It is a joyous conversation, Reese. You should call me Yalla.”
“You have never invited that before. Why do I think you’re manipulating m
e?” I didn’t answer but let her lead me to a sitting room. Tea was already waiting, and so after a moment, we were each seated with our own cup. I sipped and then smiled.
“I’d like to ask you a question. Would you give something up if it meant you could have grandbabies?”
She narrowed her eyes. “That is certainly a loaded question. I imagine it would depend upon what I would be asked to give up, and how the grandbabies came to be.”
“And perhaps how soon they might come to be,” I added. “I cannot make promises for this. I do not make promises on behalf of my Prestainamatta, the Goddess Yahamala.”
“I imagine you do not.”
“But I hold some sway with her,” I added.
“And this is pertinent to the conversation of grandbabies?”
“It is pertinent when it would take the power of a goddess for conception to occur. You have perhaps noticed that I have four daughters. How do you suppose that happened?”
“The official story is that your goddess placed them into their mothers.”
“She did.” I explained a little more. And that was when she whispered, “Parmeed and Malta.”
“Just so,” I said.
“So we are becoming less hypothetical,” she said. “You want something from me, and you’re offering me grandchildren as payment.”
“You make it sound so calculating. Do you believe I would hold children hostages in such a fashion? I am the one who is held hostage. I do not do the holding.” It had been long enough that I could make jokes about it. Not everyone found them funny.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because Parmeed and Malta would like to petition our Prestainamatta at the winter solstice.”
“And I still do not understand what you need from me.”
“Simple understanding.”
“I admit: this is rather unusual. But I still do not understand.”
“There are some who might suggest a wedding should arrive before conception.”
Her jaw dropped. “Which of those two was too afraid to approach me directly?”
“I believe the answer might be ‘both’, although Parmeed was blaming Malta.”
“Have they already eloped? Did you marry them in secret this morning?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I believe you’ll be receiving your invitation very soon, but it may not carry as much pomp as you might prefer.”
“When?”
“I believe I shouldn’t give away all their surprises.”
“They sent you as their emissary. Do your job, Lady Yallameenara.”
“Nine days in the temple.”
“Please not that tiny one in the palace.”
“No, no. Technically it would be in the garden beside the temple, unless the weather is poor.”
“Nine days is hardly sufficient time to plan a suitable celebration.” She sighed. “And now I have the entire picture. They don’t want a suitable celebration.”
“Reese, you know your daughter at least as well as I do. It would take me ten minutes to tell she would prefer something far more intimate.”
“I suppose you’ll remind me it’s her wedding and not my own.”
“I hardly need to do that if you’re going to do it for me.”
She made a disgusted noise. “Parmeed is my heir.”
“I know. But she is not you, Reese. She is an amazing woman, but she is who she is. You cannot change that. Certainly you know that.”
“She and Malta seem like such a mismatch.”
“Can you envision better for her?”
“No. I had hopes for the two of you.”
“We were good together,” I said. “Really good, actually. And she fit well into half my life but hated the other half.”
“I know.” She shook her head. “Nine days. Am I allowed to invite anyone?”
“You could accept their wishes, Reese. I believe if you ask what they want, you will find that they want the closest family and friends. Intimate. I will be there, of course, as well as two of my priestesses. Ralalta will be in attendance. I believe Malta will ask a few other close friends, three or four. Reese, if you invite half of Marport, you’ll destroy the wedding for Parmeed. You know that, Reese. You know that.”
She looked away. I waited. Finally she said, “I love my daughter.”
“I know you do.”
She turned back. “Your eighteenth birthday has been very good to my family.”
I laughed. Lady Reese had presented me with a suit from her son. That had gone poorly, but out of it, I had accepted courting from Parmeed, and for them, that changed everything. “I’ve made important friends,” I replied.
She sighed. “I’m a foolish woman sometimes. I want what I shouldn’t want. I have a wonderful daughter, and some of the most important people in the country recognize her for what she is. I want to show off.”
“But more importantly,” I said, trailing off.
“I want Parmeed to be happy,” she said. “What must I do, Yalla?”
“Let them invite whom they want,” I replied. Then I thought quickly. I told her about inviting Parmeed and Malta to learn more of the Goddess. Then I waited, hopefully.
Reese considered me carefully, then smiled. “You’re hoping I’ll attend as well.”
“Do you blame me?”
“Not at all,” she said. “Is this a requirement of some sort?”
“No, Reese.” But I handed her one of my little books. She looked through it for a minute then moved her gaze to me. “I’ll come.”
I smiled broadly and took her hands. “I’d like that,” I said.
* * * *
We met at the main temple. Janella stayed hidden away with Terél. Malta arranged for Tarmorleen to come to the temple, and Tessella had accepted my invitation via Alta.
It was Tessella, Janella’s daughter, who arrived first. When she arrived, I made sure I stood at the altar, the words glowing and shifting in the colors, my fingers brushing the word I had chosen: Trust. I knew the altar was stunning, and I knew I looked good in my best vestments.
“Lady Yallameenara?”
I turned and smiled. A woman near Juleena’s age stood at the entrance of the temple. She had dressed for a meeting with the queen’s daughter. And instead, she was to meet a priestess of the Goddess. “Tessella. Thank you for coming.” I held out a hand. “Please.”
She nodded and stepped forward, then looked around. “An interesting meeting place, Lady Yallameenara.”
“We have not met before,” I said.
“No,” she agreed simply. She turned a circle before stepping closer, coming to a stop, staring at the altar. “I’ve heard about this,” she said in a whisper.
My hand was still lifted to her. She moved closer, but she didn’t give me hers. I had hoped she would. Ah, well. “You may approach all the way,” I said.
“Isn’t that your place?”
“All are welcome, if they come without malice,” I replied.
She didn’t approach the altar, and I felt suspicion in her glances. Instead, she came to a stop and asked, “Am I meeting with Lady Yallameenara, Foster Daughter to Queen Ralalta? Or am I meeting with the High Priestess?”
“That is an interesting question,” I replied.
“And that isn’t an answer. You sent a princess to summon me.”
“I could have sent a different princess, but I wanted you to accept an invitation and not receive an order,” I replied.
She gazed at me for a minute then said, “You could have sent Princess Juleena but not have simply come yourself.”
“Are you a happy woman, Tessella?” I asked. “Does your life hold joy?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Please,” I said, gesturing to the altar. “You came. Can you humor me for a few minutes?”
“I’d like to know why I came.”
“You came because I want to see you about something that was important enough to send Princess Lásenalta. You cam
e because you want to know what that could be. Perhaps I simply hope for a donation from your winery.”
“You play word games, Lady Yallameenara.”
“You spent an hour in travel and will spend another hour to return,” I said. “Could you humor me for just a short while?”
She huffed but stepped closer. I indicated the altar, then set my hands upon it. She didn’t touch it, but she approached sufficiently close that she could. “The letters glow.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Is that Altearan?”
“No. These are the words of my Prestainamatta, my Goddess.” I leaned forward and brushed fingers across the center. “This word is Prestainamatta. It means the Goddess of my Heart.”
“I don’t believe you invited me for a lesson in religion.”
“This word,” I said, brushing the letters, “Means Trust. You are standing at Joy.” I named the other words. “These nine words form the basis of our devotion.”
“Lady Yallameenara, what do you want?”
I turned to face her again. Her arms were folded, and she was leaning away from me. I sighed. “I wanted to approach this my way,” I said finally. “People make mistakes. Sometimes it can take years, even decades to realize it. Sometimes it can take something horrible before they realize what awful mistakes they made. Sometimes they know even as they make them, but they are helpless but to continue to make more.”
“Are you going to tell me or not?”
“Why are you so impatient?” I asked.
“Because I don’t care to be manipulated.”
“I’m not trying to manipulate you, Tessella. I am trying to tell you a few things that are fairly important, and not to me.”
“Then just tell me.”
I turned away from her. This was going so poorly. “When I do, you’re going to run. If you do, there won’t be another chance.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I turned back. “Would it really hurt you to let me do this my way?”
She huffed again. “Fine. Five minutes.”
I nodded. “Five minutes.” I brushed fingers across the altar. “There are words that apply here. Trust. Love. A gift given. A gift received.” I paused. “Actually, all the outer words apply. Please, Tessella, do you see these words?”