Ever (7 page)

Admat's ways are unknowable. We can't understand
his plan, which is always for the best.

She holds out a copper arm bracelet and two silver ones plus a gold ankle bracelet. “Wear everything. People will speak of you forever.”

I nod and put on the bracelets. Mati ties my hair with a ribbon of hammered copper.

Before we leave for the wedding, I run to my room and roll up one of my favorite rugs as a wedding gift, since the rug I was working on isn't ready. In this rug, two full-grown date palms stand side by side, their fronds mingling. Next to them are two baby date palms, one a little taller than the other. They are a family, and the mati and pado wouldn't grow so close and share the rainfall if their love weren't strong.

I'm proud of this rug because of my workmanship on the overlapping fronds. Admat! That was hard to do.

Pado and Mati are waiting for me in the reception room. They have put on street faces. Neither one is crying, but their expressions are grim.

“Come,” I say. “I'm alive today. Please don't grieve yet.”

OLUS

M
Y WINDS RETURN
to me. They have been everywhere and failed to find Admat. Perhaps he is insubstantial as well as invisible, and my winds swept through him. Or perhaps he is in Wadir, the land of the dead, where my winds cannot go.

If I can't rescue Kezi by appealing to Admat—appealing to him directly, god to god—I must find another way to save her, with or without him.

Kezi and her parents leave for the wedding. I decide to go too. If an opportunity arises, I will be on hand. The goats will be safe with my minding wind.

I strip off my tunic. Dressed only in a loincloth, I will be a slave at the wedding. Slaves are all but invisible, almost as unseen as Admat. No one expects a slave to be an acquaintance. Senat won't recognize me if I don't draw attention to myself. Everyone will think I belong to
someone else.

My south wind takes me high above Hyte, high enough for anyone who looks up to think me a bird. When I reach my destination, I wrap myself in fog. My downwind deposits me in a deserted alley. The alley is too narrow for comfort, but I endure it. I watch my feet and ignore the encroaching walls. The alley winds to the King's Road, the broad avenue that leads from the city gates to the palace. The wedding is in the open air, in the avenue.

I've observed many Akkan weddings, but I've never watched one in Hyte. I hurry along the seven-foot-high wall that lines the King's Road. Luckily, the wedding guests have their backs to me. They face a priestess who is singing praises to Admat. Nearby is a recess in the wall, which I slip into. From its shadow I watch for something a slave can do. Kezi and her parents haven't yet arrived.

The priestess's voice is high and piercing.

“Thanks to Admat
,

Maker of Damki
,

Maker of Belet . . .”

Several children play and squabble on the outskirts of
the guests. Their piping voices mingle with the priestess's song.

Long tables, placed end to end, extend down the middle of the street. A skinny yellow dog sits near a table, nose up, waiting. A parade of a dozen male servants and slaves turns out of an alley across from me. The servants wear coarse tunics and sandals. The slaves wear loincloths and are barefoot.

I slide out of my sandals.

Slaves and servants alike carry trays of covered bowls and plates, which they arrange on the tables. They return to the alley. Since the tables aren't filled, I assume they have gone back for more. When they return, perhaps they'll stay, and I'll find some unobtrusive occupation.

Kezi and Senat and Merem enter the avenue from their street. Kezi gives the rug she is carrying to Merem and hurries toward the celebration. Her blue tunic glows in the sunlight. I don't know what the effort is costing her, but she is smiling.

She passes by without seeing me. Her cinnamon scent is in the air. I could run out and touch her. We are together. Not truly together. Apart, but I am with her.

KEZI

T
HE PRIESTESS FINISHES
her song as I reach the cluster surrounding her.

“. . . Of all happiness
.

Thanks to Admat.”

Her listeners turn away. I see the bride and groom, Belet and Uncle Damki. Belet looks lovely in a purple tunic. Uncle Damki is almost as handsome as Pado. I smile and wave.

Belet sees me and waves back.

My eyes fill in spite of myself. I pretend a stone has gotten into my slipper. I bend over and adjust the felt. When I straighten, Aunt Fedo is hugging Belet. Now I'm furious. If Aunt Fedo weren't so strong willed, Nia would have been able to keep her out.

A musician shakes a copper rattle. I seem to hear each bead strike metal.

Admat, I pray, let me savor my cousin's wedding. Let me savor everything until I have to die.

The rhythm of the rattle enters me. I bend my knees and bob gently. A circle forms around Belet and Uncle Damki. Mati and Pado stand on either side of me. Aunt Fedo is directly across from us. She smiles and waves. I smile back. She is still my beloved aunt.

To the left of Aunt Fedo, separated from her by two men, is Elon, whom I might have married. Why did I like him so much? He has a curly beard, and I prefer a clean shaven man. His posture is poor. Aunt Fedo says a man who doesn't stand straight is selfish.

A smoke diviner joins Belet and Uncle Damki and lights incense in a censer. This is the most anxious moment in the wedding. Smoke streams out of the censer. The diviner will observe the smoke designs and announce whether or not the marriage omens are good. If they are bad, the wedding will be called off, even now.

A breeze blows across my neck. The smoke writhes and throbs with the rhythm of the rattle. It forms waves, spirals. It widens, then narrows. I've seen smoke come from a censer before, but never like this. This smoke
seems alive. The diviner's eyes are enormous. She's never seen anything like this either. People whisper around the circle.

The diviner clears her throat, looks down at her hands, up at the sky. Her reputation will suffer if she can't interpret the omens. “The portents are excellent,” she says at last. “The groom and bride will love each other forever. The bride will bear a dozen healthy children.”

Everyone sighs with relief, except Mati and Pado and me. We're part of the wedding and not part, here and not here.

A priest enters the circle, bearing a clay tablet. On the tablet rest two ripe dates and two balls of barley soaked in vinegar. The dates represent the joy in marriage. The sour barley balls represent the difficulties. The marriage contract has been written on the tablet in tiny wedge letters.

I've seen my parents' marriage contract many times, although I can't read it. I can write only my own name and can read only the names of my parents and Aunt Fedo and Admat.

The priest intones three times over:

Belet pops a ball of barley into her mouth. “I will endure any trouble that comes.”

I taste the vinegar in Belet's mouth. I'll never be a wife.

Uncle Damki holds a date up to Belet's lips. She opens her mouth and takes it in. I taste the date too.

“I will be a sweet wife. I am your wife.”

Next, Uncle Damki eats the barley and the date. “I will endure the bitterness. I will welcome the sweet. I am your husband.”

They are married. I cheer with everyone else.

Belet begins to dance. Uncle Damki backs away from her. The women circle her and dance too. At last! Mati and I join in. Pipes and a lyre accompany the rattle. A singer begins to wail.

Several men stand outside the circle and watch. A few step from side to side, snapping their fingers.

Right foot behind my left. I dip, my eyes half closed, losing myself in pleasure. Left knee raised, higher than the other dancers', higher than the bride's, I point my toes in my felt slipper. Bend at the waist. Three steps back. Straighten. Raise my arms. Toss my hair. Make my
bracelets and earrings jingle.

The song ends, but the singer starts another one, and the musicians join in. Mati can't catch her breath. She squeezes my hand and drops out of the dance. I continue.

Elon is among the men who are watching the women. His eyes follow me. I blush. A slave is sweeping and watching me too.

My blush deepens. The slave is flawless, without a blemish. Majestic, taller than Elon, more muscular. I am only peeking at him and looking away and peeking again. But since the slave wears no tunic, I see that his muscles are powerful but not blocky. He stands straight, and he is clean shaven so I see his square jaw and his wide mouth.

Aunt Fedo says a wide mouth means deep feelings. I think Admat gave me Aunt Fedo's owl eyes today, because I see humor and sadness in that mouth.

The slave shouldn't stare at me. While he stares, he sweeps across Elon's foot.

Elon kicks him hard in the shins, and he almost falls. I stumble. The slave regains his footing. So do I. He bows to Elon and says something, which must be an apology. He glances at me to see if I was watching. I lower my eyes.

I am glad I will never marry Elon.

Elon ignores the apology and looks back at me. I turn my head to the right and lift my chin. The rhythm of the rattle becomes faster and more complex. I forget both Elon and the slave.