Keeping Days are usually noisy events when a girl turns sixteen or a boy eighteen, but this was as big as an Equinox Feast. I was torn between elation and remorse. How could anyone have afforded this? Where, after all the ransacking, had they found the food and unbroken dishes?
I couldn’t pretend I didn’t love every last hurrah, and I couldn’t blame my family for needing an excuse to celebrate. If it meant letting go of my dislike of the Temple, I wasn’t sure I could do it, though. I tried to shake off my unease, but it clung deep within me, knotted around some key part of myself.
Everyone began cheering at first sight of me and I swallowed back a lump in my throat. The crowd parted around the guards, with boys climbing rooftops and dangling off tree limbs to shout down at us. I spotted Dina’s younger brothers and other cousins, neighbors, schoolmates, and friends. I hoped the thatching didn’t cave.
The guards halted in front of my parents’ door before the flapping crimson banner, and I stopped, too. The men snapped to crisp attention, and the crowd hushed. Priests crowded around me, but all I wanted was to peer between them for a glimpse at my doorway.
Babba and Mami stood in front, holding each other, holding Amaniel and Rishi; there they were, everyone crying except Babba. That’s all I wanted. The four of them, and hugs, and to run inside and tell them what happened. Oh, and to eat everything and dance my feet off.
And to forget.
My eyes met Mami’s, and we both teared up at once. She gave a long, slow nod. And smiled.
Babba’s chest stuck so far out I thought he might fall over. He was proud of me. Pious me! I should be snorting in disgust, but how could I? He had faced days of sorrow, thinking me dead. Everyone performed the appropriate genuflections as the Azwans brought me forward. The Azwans bowed low before my parents. Reyhim cleared his throat in his peculiar fashion. His rasp carried over the quieted throngs and even above the breeze, his tone formal and commanding: the voice of a man who could still bring a congregation to its knees.
“Are you Rimonil, son of Mansoril of Port Sapphire in Nihil’s own nation of New Meridian, father of the woman Hadara?”
Babba’s voice boomed. “I am.”
I was a woman now. It was official.
Reyhim continued.
“And is this your wife, Lia, the mother of the woman Hadara?”
“She is.”
“The Temple of Doubt has word of her coming of age. We claim her for service to Nihil, unless you wish to keep her. Do you keep her, Hadara who is your daughter?”
“I do.”
“And is that the wish of your wife as well?”
“It is.”
There was the briefest pause, scarcely half a moment, when I thought the ceremony would take a wrong turn, and I’d be marched away again.
Reyhim raised his arms overhead and lifted his voice to a hoarse shout.
“Then so be it,” he said.
I almost collapsed with relief.
A cry of “So be it!” rang through the crowd. The guards didn’t flinch. Reyhim smiled toward the crowds gathered far up and down the street and grew solemn again. “May she be a blessing to your house for all the days and nights she dwells herein.”
Babba’s eyes reddened, and his voice cracked. “So be it.”
The Azwans stepped back, and I stumbled into my parents’ arms. My mother sobbed; I snuffled and sniffled and leaked tears everywhere. Behind me, S’ami’s ringing baritone crooned the Blessings of Keeping. I turned, and we bowed our heads to accept his prayer.
The unplanted seed is a hope
The uncut gem is a promise
The uncast spell is a wish
The unforged steel is a dream.
Comes now the parents who tended this seed,
who polished and conjured and forged this woman of their own flesh.
This grown child is their harvest,
their treasure, their magic, their strength.
Let us forgive them for keeping from Nihil what Nihil himself gave.
Nihil blesses those who give and those who keep.
So be it.
With a final cry of “So be it” from the crowd, the short ceremony was done, and my family had been officially absolved of not giving me over to the Temple to become a priestess or healer or Temple servant. Most families kept their newly adult children, but no one wanted to skip a celebration. That included mine, judging by the hordes they’d invited. I nestled in closer, between Babba and Mami until their arms pulled tight around my shoulders. Mami tucked a lock of hair that had escaped my scarf and smiled at me, her eyes glistening.
“Beautiful gown,” she whispered. “I’m glad you knew to accept the Temple’s tokens.”
“I figured I’d earned it,” I said.
Her smile was bittersweet. “I ought to laugh, but there’s too much truth to what you’ve said. How sad to have to acquire such wisdom so young.”
I choked back a reply. The crowd was cheering again, until Reyhim stopped them with a wave of his arm. When the crowd had hushed, he continued.
“This is, as you can see, a more sacred occasion than most. This glorious young woman has an additional blessing, composed by our gracious Master for her unique service to him.”
Approving murmurs rippled through the crowd. I had no idea what was coming. What unique service had I done? I’d lived. That wasn’t my doing, either.
The two Azwans held their arms outstretched, hands up in benediction. Reyhim called above the whispers of the crowd, “Hear us, Fey One, as we remove all doubts from your servant’s name.”
The men raised their hands and invoked Nihil’s name and my own with it, linking my mortal self with his eternal life force, at least in words. This blessing was also short, and it was over promptly with a final “So be it,” echoed by the throngs behind us. People sang good-luck songs and shouted congratulations. I’d been forgiven for whatever I’d done, or hadn’t done—I wasn’t sure. I wondered how many people knew that the Temple’s tyranny wasn’t over. The ceremony was an empty ritual to me. If I cried, it was with relief and love bound up with a lingering rage I couldn’t seem to either pinpoint or set aside.
Unknown arms pulled me into the festivities. I sampled delicacies from brimming platters and air-kissed well-wishers. Almost despite myself, I found my head bobbing to riotous music and my whole self dragged into dizzying dances that weaved in and out of the crowds and around and ’round. Mami danced with me first, then Amaniel and Rishi, then girl cousins and aunties, while on the other side of the patio, the men hoisted Babba onto their shoulders and whirled him overhead. He spotted me in the crowd and laughed.
I returned his laugh because I was happy to see the worry lifted from him, worry that I’d caused. Inside, however, I ached. I would never be able to tell Babba why, or Mami, either. I couldn’t ever tell them that I’d fallen in love at a dazzling speed and had already lost him. I knew what they would say, the patronizing speech parents give you when they want to comfort you, and they forget you’re no longer five.
Maybe I had only loved the idea of him, as in those old poems where the king marries a beautiful commoner, or the princess runs off with the gardener.
I sighed and looked for a way to make an exit, even a temporary one.
I spied the guards to one side of our property, close to the water’s edge. For a moment, I thought one of them might be Valeo. By all three moons, every one of them suddenly looked like him, when they never had before.
Maybe it was the armor, or the haughty way they stood at ease, aloof and to the side, just as he had. Sadness welled up inside me as I thought of the man who’d been poisoned trying to protect me. I would never get a chance to thank him, and I’d have to remember my searing last sight of him, sick and feverish on his deathbed. He hadn’t been as handsome as these rangy guards in their gleaming armor, eyeing the prettier girls and their swaying skirts, but then that had been what I’d liked about him.
I sighed. I had to force thoughts of the fal
len Valeo from my mind. I grabbed a tray of water jugs and went over to the guards, making a big show of courtesy and smiles as they quenched their thirst and thanked me. One of the handsomer guards smiled down at me, a hulk with gray eyes that twinkled with flirty mischief beneath that big brow.
“I have a favor to ask, a small one,” I said.
“Anything, so long as it’s pious,” he said.
“And even if it’s not,” said another. “He’d just wait until he’s off duty.”
I felt my ears grow hot. I was a clumsy flirt.
The first guard elbowed the other. “You’re scaring her. Worthy Hadara, what may the Temple do for you?”
“I love the Fernai tongue. All those rolling r’s. It’s like music. Can you say a few words? Something nice. Please?”
“Something nice. Hmmm . . . everything in the mother tongue is nice. How about this: You’re as beautiful as a thistle rose and twice as tough. If the Azwans hadn’t threatened to blast a hole through any guard who touched you, I’d be chasing you all the way back to my barracks.”
I grew confused. I’d understood it. “I . . . I meant . . . was that in Fernai?”
He smirked. “Perhaps our tongue is too beautiful for the untrained ear. How about this: I’d give my father’s flock to see what’s beneath that gown. At least climb another tree and give us a peek.”
Only a quick, mental reflex kept my hand from immediately smacking his leering face. He mustn’t know. Something in me said he mustn’t know. I could understand him, far beyond even my usual knack for languages. What had S’ami said about signs of possession? I felt flustered, heat and shame mixing with a sudden panic. Languages. I could understand their Fernai as if I’d spoken it all my life.
The other men laughed, thinking I didn’t know what they’d said. I forced a smile and hoped they couldn’t detect gritted teeth beneath my lips. I’d understood every awful syllable. That was worrisome. I managed to thank him without puking on his shiny armor.
“You want a translation?” he said, his face neutral.
Another guard sneered and muttered in Fernai: “Can’t wait to hear this.”
The gray-eyed guard said only this in the common tongue: “You’re a very pretty woman, and I wish you a Joyous Keeping Day.”
Good thing I was being too polite to spit at him.
I did a curtsy-bow without dropping anything off the water tray. I nearly forgot the reason I’d sought them out. They made me so angry, I wasn’t sure I wanted to raise the subject of Valeo. I wanted to find someplace quiet to fret, but I owed him this, and that kept me rooted in front of these coarse, unkind men.
“Your prince was the bravest man I’ve ever met, and I’m so sorry he was stricken,” I said with unexpected emphasis, immediately regretting it. I didn’t sound mournful—just silly and shallow. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the word dead. “I regret any role I may have played in bringing him to harm.”
There. Nice and apologetic and humble. Amaniel would be proud.
A shadow crossed the man’s face. “Harm. Yes. There has been much harm. But I should thank you for such humility. We’d wondered if it had occurred to you what we’ve all sacrificed here. Many good men died to free this island. But you are among the worthy now, and we must console ourselves by bearing witness to your blessings, which Nihil has found fit to bestow.”
His formal manner pricked like pins under my skin. There was real pain beneath those overly polite words, whatever the intended insult. I knew better than to think he’d ever apologize for what the Guards had been ordered to do to us. His unchaste, rude words still stung in my ears, and my voice came out hoarse and sputtering. He mustn’t know.
“I would, thank you,” I said. “I know I am unworthy of such kindness.”
Behind me, the music grew louder and more frantic; the bobbing rows of dancers swirled into a mass of noise and color.
We must have faith in the power of the stars that guide us, for they are the birthplace of our lord and keeper, and their movements tell us much about our position here on Kuldor.
—from the Preface of Anatomy of the Heavens
The other dancers swept me along, under and over and through others’ arms. I stumbled over my own ankles a few times, letting the girls dancing next to me yank me back up. A few times, I took my immediate neighbors on the dance chain down with me. Everyone laughed, thinking I was giddy or tipsy or entirely too light-headed. I didn’t say otherwise.
I could understand Fernai. That didn’t sound right. I felt fine. And I was definitely myself. Who else could I be? I searched the high-stepping, swirling crowds for a familiar flash of deep amethyst. I shouldn’t trust him. I knew that. The dress was nice—alright, more like striking and gorgeous. And we’d developed an odd almost-alliance, S’ami and I, though it was lopsided in his favor by a huge degree. He’d said I’d come to him if I had doubts. Did this qualify?
He’d kill me quickly, without apology. Then again, maybe he couldn’t kill me. Hadn’t he already tried? His strongest spell hadn’t worked. I was unkillable. Maybe that and my sudden talent for language were linked to my time on the altar. I pulled S’ami away from my old uncle bending his ear about tithes, after lots of genuflecting for one and hugs for the other.
“Why aren’t you enjoying your celebrations?” S’ami said. “You’ve earned them.”
“Say something in Tengali.”
“Any reason why?”
“I’m begging you.”
S’ami’s stare told me that he’d registered my panic. “Alright,” he said, forming his words slowly. If you can understand this, you fear you’re possessed. Am I right?
I fought to keep from shaking. I translated what he’d said, word for word. “But I’m not, right?” I glanced around, suddenly fearful of who might’ve heard. My voice dropped to a whisper, and I told him about the guards. “You said if I knew who I was, then it couldn’t be that, that . . . ”
“Do you know who you are?” S’ami’s kept his voice low.
“Yes. Of course.”
“Then go enjoy your Keeping Day.”
“Is that it?”
“Say nothing to anyone else.”
Before I could protest, he gently pushed me toward a circle of dancers, and I was dragged away by a schoolmate who used to snicker behind my back. I hoped I wasn’t becoming popular among the pious set, or I’d go right back to that altar and fling myself on it. I glanced over my shoulder to see S’ami staring after me, brooding.
I danced long into the night, after the lanterns burned low and the platters were emptied, refilled, and emptied again, the wine jugs drained of all but a few drops, and the last old uncles and doting aunties teetered away tipsily after a few goodnight kisses. A hired crew cleaned up, and neighbors trickled back to their homes.
Babba waved the last stragglers off while swaying on unsteady legs. His sash sported odd food stains, and his broad skullcap tipped to one side of his head. He swirled the remnants of a wine cup and grinned at me.
“Blossom.” He hugged me a bit more firmly than usual. “Got sumpin to show ya.”
“Babba, you’re drunk.” It was weirdly out of character for him to drink too much. He was a completely different person, giddy and excited, a boyish grin bursting from his careworn face.
“By Nihil’s wives, I am. Deserve it, too. C’mere.”
His swaying made me laugh, the first real chuckle in many days. I followed him inside the house, though I walked in a decidedly straighter line. A low table stood where my sleeping pallet had been. It was covered with scrolls all tied with crimson ribbons. Babba hugged me again. “Your courting notes, blossom. Every bachelor in town is suddenly being very nice to me.”
I shook my head in disbelief. Just a few six-days had turned me from the school laughingstock into some sort of festival prize. Did each of these men think me stupid? Or just shallow? If they wanted to share in the Temple’s blessings, they could find their own altars to almost die on. Parasites, all of
them.
Besides, despite wanting to join the mysterious ranks of womanhood, it felt too soon to think about a husband. I’d only just turned sixteen. “There must be dozens,” was all I could manage to say.
“Well, you are the Lord Portreeve’s daughter.”
My jaw dropped. “When did that happen?”
“You’ve always been my daughter.” The mirth on Babba’s face made me want to poke him. I gave him another hug instead.
“You’d better tell me,” I said. “When did the Merchants Guild pick you?”
“Oh, well, the old Azwan let it slip all over town that you were alive and sanctified and such. Had done Nihil some big service.”
“So you owe it to the Temple.”
“Yes, but then I owe a lot to the Temple.” His face went serious. “I imagine I’ll be owing them the rest of my life.”
Which is exactly what Reyhim wants, I thought.
Babba tugged off his cap. Jet curls cascaded over his forehead, making him seem more boyish than lordly. He was likely one of the younger Portreeves ever appointed; I could remember only pompous grayhairs in the post. It would fall to Babba to oversee all the commerce in the city, from market stalls to mighty ships, and enforce its ordinances: the chief constable would answer to him, as would the tax and tariff collectors, and pretty much everyone but the magistrate. He was lord and protector of Port Sapphire.
But he’d returned to being the serious, stern father when he took my hand.
“I haven’t heard your whole story, blossom. I want to know why we are suddenly in the Temple’s good graces. Was it really Nihil himself who spared you?”
My need to unburden was a pang in my side. I began the long story, as S’ami had said I should do, hashing out what I remembered of the altar and what I didn’t, but leaving out the part about understanding foreign tongues. I asked Babba what I should feel about the Temple since my trials. I wanted to know how deeply into the Temple’s quicksand he’d sunk, though I couldn’t say it in those words. It came out instead as a plea. “Babba, the Temple, their teachings. I just can’t anymore. I feel like such a hypocrite. What am I supposed to feel?”
The Temple of Doubt Page 22