by Jean Johnson
Apparently he hadn’t hidden it well enough. Moving up next to him, Deian leaned in close and murmured in his ear, “So . . . would you like me to go fetch a blanket from your own bed, so that you can top your brother’s intentions in the eyes of all? Or are you going to take the more prudent path, and not give her any further gifts under the watchful eyes of our subtly seething princess-to-be?”
Torn between prudence and passion, Kodan almost stayed his hand. The sight of Tava absentmindedly smoothing her hands over the soft lambskin throw in the brief pause between suitors made up his mind. “On my bed is a foxfur blanket.”
He didn’t have to say anything more. Nodding, Deian vanished from his side. Kodan couldn’t exactly leave to fetch it himself; it was his responsibility to oversee the celebrations. His duty to make sure no one caused a scene, started a fight, or drank too much from the skins of wine that would be passed around later, once the actual feasting began. His duty to make sure the single men of the Family treated their newest maiden with respect and courtesy.
A brief pause came in the gift-giving, as the courage of some of the youngest men, barely more than boys, faltered. Taking advantage of their hesitation, Kodan fetched out his second gift. Before the youths could goad the foremost among them into approaching Tava, he stepped into their place, dropping once more to one knee.
“This is my second courting gift to you,” Kodan stated calmly, as if he hadn’t just caused a stir of renewed interest in the men and women idly watching the gift-giving. “It is a book of adventure tales from the kingdom of Troya, which lies on the far side of the Centa Plains from here, off to the east. I hope you enjoy its many stories, as I have enjoyed the many hours in which I have come to know you.”
Her surprised stare melted into a warm smile. Covering his hands as he cradled the book, Tava caressed his skin, then squeezed it. “Anything you give me is a joy, Kodan.”
“It’s been a while since I last read this book,” he remembered to say, though the soft strokes of her fingertips were very distracting. “If you like, we could take turns reading it together sometime.”
“I’d like that. I have a book of my own,” Tava added impulsively. “A book filled with tales from distant lands, many of them from the far side of the world. My father inherited it from his father, all the way back from before the Shattering. We could read that one together, too, if you like.”
Triumph mingled with pleasure inside of Kodan, making him grin. I was right! he silently crowed. Books are the perfect way to court her! “I would be honored and delighted to spend any time with you, Tava . . . but sharing a book would triple my delight.”
This time, her smile spread faster than her blush. “As it would mine.”
Rising, he spun and gestured for the next youth to take his place. The others pushed the young man forward, one of Kodan’s teenaged cousins, and the boy stammered much like Torei as he glanced between his cousin and his target. Moving back so that he wouldn’t seem quite so proprietary, Kodan checked the urge to fold his arms across his chest. Looking intimidating wouldn’t help, either.
Rituals like this one were a good chance for young men to practice their courtship approaches. From the gentle way Tava was smiling and accepting each wreath presented by the younger men, she was making sure it was a pleasant, positive experience for them. Only a few hesitated now, with the rest turning eager to fling themselves at her feet, some of them even attempting to wax poetic about her presence among them, egged on by the competitive presence of their peers, and Kodan’s own example. Aside from a few lingering blushes, Tava seemed to be taking it in stride now.
Soukut probably told her what to expect, and she’s taken it to heart, treating them with politeness and courtesy. Barely fledged men have tender egos, and my Tava is making it easy for them to approach her. We all know it isn’t all that serious—young love never is, though I’d wish Rahala would’ve remembered that—but she’s giving them a chance to express themselves . . . not quite like that, though.
Stepping forward, Kodan folded his arms across his chest and loomed over the current emboldened, impassioned youth. The teenaged boy had seized Tava’s hand and looked like he was going to kiss it. Catching sight of Kodan’s approach just as he puckered his lips, he lifted his head, his eyes wide, much like a deer scenting a predator. Kodan lifted one brow, glancing briefly at her hand, then at the young man’s still-pursed mouth. The moment the youth stopped puckering and started blushing with shame, Kodan nodded and stepped back, unfolding his arms. No words needed to be spoken; it was enough that the boy’s enthusiasm had been reined in before custom and courtship law were broken.
The impetuous boy was replaced by a slightly older, more controlled youth who confined his praise to verbal expressions, though he did offer Tava a soft kerchief made from cotton as a courting gift. The fabric was rare and expensive, since cotton grew only down in the kingdoms along the southern coast. Kodan wished some of the bolts of fabric salvaged from the bandits had been cotton. He would have gladly given Tava most of his share to ensure she had comfortable garments to wear, but the salvaged materials had just been wool and linen.
An impatient sigh reached his ears. Rahala had moved up next to him on his right—he still couldn’t bring himself to think of her as Arahala, Princess of the People. Arms folded across her chest, Rahala lifted her chin at the last of the youths competing for Tava’s attention.
“For the love of Mother Earth, they’re starting to line up for a second time. This is for the first-gift, not the second, third, or fourth, and their antics are going to delay the feast,” she muttered, furred arms making a dark line across the front of her pink sleeveless chamsa. “For that matter, why didn’t you just hand both books to her at once, and be done with it? You’ve encouraged them to go beyond custom with that little slip, Kodan.”
Kodan stared at Rahala, wondering when the woman would get the point. With perfect timing, Deian slipped up on his left side. He smiled at Rahala and held up the bundle of linen-backed fur. Accepting it from his friend, Kodan gave Rahala a warm smile. Her gaze dropped to the lush quilt, and her eyes widened a little. A petty part of Kodan gloated over what he guessed was going through her mind, that the bedfur was for her. It wasn’t unknown for others to take the opportunity of a first-gifting ceremony to give gifts to other women, not just the one or ones directly honored.
“You’re right, Rahala. This has gone on long enough.”
Just as she swayed forward, unfolding her arms in the undoubted belief he was going to hand her the fur quilt, Kodan moved away. Striding up to the straggling line of youths, he fixed them with a chiding, firm look.
“Enough. This is a ritual of gift-giving intended to make a maiden feel welcome. Not a competition to see who can give her the most extravagant compliment. Save such things for the winter gathers and dances, when you can practice your charm on many women . . . some of whom might actually appreciate your competitive efforts on their behalf. If you have no more gifts to present to her, go help your kin bring the food into the ageome.”
Most of the half-grown men scattered. Aware that the others in the Family were now watching him again, Kodan turned and dropped to one knee a third time. The sight of the large bundle in his hands had quelled a lot of the nearer conversations, allowing his voice to be heard.
“I have another gift for you, Tava,” he said, resting the bundle of furs on his bent knee. Gently, he plucked up the edge of the lap-throw his brother had given. “The sheepskin throw which my brother gave you is a good gift, one suitable for keeping you warm as you sit in a chair. I, however, would give you this. It has been taken straight from the warmth of my bed . . . in the hopes that my fur will keep you warm in yours.”
A choked noise off to the side told him that Rahala had heard every word. The gifting of a bedfur was an intimate gesture, both physically and verbally. Fur in this case meant not just the pieced-together hides forming long stripes of reddish summer and silvery winter foxfur, but the fur h
e himself could shape from his own hide. Kodan hoped he had finally made his intentions clear to the other woman.
Tava couldn’t remember either Soukut or the others in the priest camp mentioning anything quite like this, but she could tell it was a significant gift. A lot of the Family were staring at the two of them with surprised, curious, and thoughtful expressions on their faces, with one notable exception. The woman Rahala looked livid, eyes narrowed, mouth pinched tight, and furred arms folded tightly across the fitted linen front of her chamsa.
Furred arms . . . oh! Tava’s brain finally caught up to the innuendo in Kodan’s words. Part of her was suddenly preoccupied with blushing, but another part was busy mulling through the ramifications of this particular gift. He’s implying that, if he can’t spend the night with me directly, this fur blanket will be the next best substitute . . . and he’s doing it in front of everyone. If I accept it, then I’m making it clear—not only to him, but to everyone else—that I would accept him that intimately.
Pleasure shivered through her nerves at that thought. Father often said that, if I really liked a particular man, I’d not be afraid to let him touch me. That it would be the exact opposite of what my mother said of her experiences. He also told me that it would have to be with a man who could interest my mind as much as my body . . . and Kodan does do both.
Wanting to accept the fur, but aware of the quilted sheepskin draped over her lap, Tava picked up the sheepskin. She folded it carefully and found a place for it on the bench, since it was too nice to just drop on the ground, but she did set it aside deliberately. Kenyen is a nice man—they’re all nice men—but he isn’t his brother.
“I accept your gift, Kodan.” She started to say more, but he quickly stood and shook out the striped fur and linen quilt in a silent invitation to wrap herself in it. Rising herself, Tava turned so that he could drape it over her back.
Kodan carefully wrapped the folds around her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her as well. The pelts were ones garnered from the foxes that had threatened the flocks of fowl tended on the Clan Cat farms. Some of them, he himself had hunted and caught, though most had been traded for other goods. It was his favorite piece of bedding, but he had no qualms about giving it to Tava. Unfortunately, he couldn’t let her linger in his embrace, even if the thick fur protected her body from his. The rules of Shifterai courtship were strict about such things, and he did have to uphold them as Lord of the Family.
Withdrawing his touch, he watched her turn to face him. She had caught the folds of the fur in her hands, and was sniffing at the long strands.
“. . . It smells like you,” Tava murmured, inhaling again. “I’ll think of you all the more when I curl up under this.”
She recognizes my scent! Flushing with pleasure, Kodan gestured for her to reseat herself. He lifted his chin at the ageome, addressing the watchful crowd with the same words he had heard his late great-father say so many times before. “Bring out the food, and let the feasting begin! Bring out your instruments, too—let us enjoy music and dancing, and celebrate the joys of today!”
Some of them scattered, making their way toward their own encampments to help bring the dishes their kin had been preparing and cooking for half the day. Others started fetching musical instruments, ranging from simple reed-pipes and drums to eight-stringed lutes meant to be laid across the knees and plucked with blunt-shifted claws. Some just stood and stared, giving the trio of Tava, Kodan, and Rahala puzzled, thoughtful looks. A few, mostly some of Rahala’s kin and some of the maidens she had lived with in the Right Flank maiden’s geome, were giving Tava less than welcoming looks.
No doubt they, too, expected me to give in to Rahala’s wishes and dreams, particularly now that she’s a princess. But I won’t. Not to please them, and certainly not to please her. For that matter, it’s never been about a woman’s status for me. It’s always been about the woman herself.
It took the sight of Tava’s hand held out to him to realize she had not only sat down on her bench again, but had cleared a spot on it for him. Pleased by her invitation, Kodan settled himself on the long, carved plank next to her, but refused her silent offer to share the fur. So long as the bulk of it was kept between them, it would be a tangible, visible sort of proof that he wasn’t going to take its place in her bed. Not until she held out her hand to him, allowing them to wed.
Noticing some children wriggling around even as their parents fetched their instruments, Tava pointed at them. “Is that the twist-dance you talked about? Soukut said I was too big and too old to bother learning how to do it, when I could get any child in the Family to help me patch felt.”
Following her line of sight, Kodan smiled. “That’s a version of it. There will be casual dancing as the musicians warm up their instruments, playing songs and such while the food is brought, then everyone will be more interested in feasting and listening than in moving around. But as the afternoon goes on, we’ll start forming dancing groups, and you’ll get to practice some of those dances the priestesses taught you.”
“If I can remember the steps, I’ll dance,” Tava joked. “I can’t believe how much they managed to teach me, but it’s so much, I’m hard-pressed to sort out the finer details. Particularly with dancing. That’s something you have to do a lot, to memorize it—is the food going to be ready soon?” she added plaintively. “I haven’t had anything but water and milk since Soulet cooked us porridge for breakfast.”
“You’ll be well fed,” Kodan reassured her. “All manner of things will have been caught, fished, dug, plucked, hunted, and found for us to eat, from roasted cattail roots and wild onions to game birds and smoked lamb. I found and dug up some of those cattails myself, yesterday . . . though I wisely gave them to my mother to cook. I always end up scorching them in the brazier embers.” He flashed her a grin. “One of the advantages of being a warlord is that I can always assign someone else the cooking chore . . . but one of the drawbacks is that I never get enough practice at it.”
“My father cooked a good number of our meals himself. He did teach me, and it was expected of a Valley woman to do most of the cooking . . . but he liked doing it. I miss him.”
Kodan touched her hand, which rested on the folds of his blanket. “When the Grieving Day comes for my great-father, you can use it to honor your grief for your father. We all do, for those we still miss over the years. Even if no one has died for a long while, we still hold a Grieving Day twice a year, just so we can remember the ones who have gone on before.”
She smiled wistfully. “Yemii was my instructor on basic healing techniques, which he said included how to set a broken heart as well as a broken bone. He told me about it.”
“What are you doing still sitting out here?” a feminine voice called out. His mother, Sinya, stopped next to the two of them, hands on her hips. “The guest of honor needs to be in the ageome now, so she can start sampling our food! Pick up her things, and move her bench into the Family tent.”
Despite the fact that he now outranked her, Kodan rose automatically from years of respectful obedience to his mother. Tava did as well, though he guessed she moved more from politeness than from the same habit. The sight of his mother opening her arms and embracing the younger woman as soon as she was on her feet pleased him deeply. Rahala was popular with many in the Family, and even a little influential before her recent revelation, but so was his mother. More so, in some ways, for she was one of the top ten females on the Council of Sisters. If Sinya accepted Tava, then most of the others would follow her lead. He hoped.
His mother’s words stirred several of the others into action. Kodan quickly grabbed his and his brother’s furs, the two books, and the amber bracelet before they could be jostled onto the ground. Manolo came over and looped several of the wreaths onto his forearms, as did Deian, and Kenyen hefted the long bench itself, carrying it toward the ageome.
Entering the large, domed tent, Tava saw it was now as brightly lit inside as the world outside, thanks to t
he many lightglobes dangling in their rafter-hung bags. The bright globes illuminated the food-laden tables set against the curving latticework walls. Someone pressed a plate into her hands, and someone else gave her a nudge to the left, where the platters held freshly roasted meats. Beyond those were pots with steaming roots and vegetables, bowls of greens, baskets of fruits, kettles of dark rice and savory soups, and slices of various breads and cakes.
There wasn’t enough room on her plate for everything, by any means. Tava did her best, taking small chunks of this and dabbing spoonfuls of that onto her plate. By the time she reached the sweets, she was hard-pressed to find a spare scrap of pottery for the temptations that still awaited sampling—there were even clever little domes made of bent bamboo and loose-woven cloth covering bowls of dripping honeycombs, to keep stray insects out of the sticky-sweet treat.
Both braziers were still in the ageome, though they had been fitted with grills that supported kettles of boiling-hot water for Corredai tea and gently steaming pots of spice-mulled wine. The short tables were still scattered around the broad, round tent, though there weren’t any projects or games in sight. A normal-height table had been settled prominently near the center of the tent, along with one of the canvas-slung chairs the Shifterai favored when they weren’t using a felted ground cushion.
Kodan’s bedfur had been draped over the chair, telling Tava where she was supposed to sit. The table was small, and no other chairs had been settled next to it, though there were two short benches to either side. No sooner did she approach the table, ready to set down her plate, than Kenyen appeared at her side, a mug in either hand. He offered both to her, one from each of the brazier pots. Tava was grateful he didn’t seem upset at his older brother’s extra gifts, and grateful he didn’t linger too much, gracefully giving way when Kinedi approached, admiring her handiwork on Tava’s body.