Then came the true shame. The worst of it all. Her vatarh. . First it was just words and hugs, then he came to her for the more intimate comforts that Abi had once given him. Too young and too immature and too trusting, Ana had endured his long, careful seduction, knowing that if she told anyone, the shame would destroy the family utterly, that it would be her matarh who would suffer most of all. .
“O’Teni? Through here. .” Savi had led them to a set of gilded wooden doors. The panels were carved with a representation of Cenzi’s ascension to the Second World-the elongated figure of the god being lifted up toward the clouds while below an immense fissure yawned in the globe below, where Cenzi had fallen in his struggle with the Moitidi, His children. Ana stroked the polished wood as Savi pulled open the doors. Beyond was a small, simple chapel which might have held fifty people at the most, lit by candles set in silver candelabra swaying on chains from the high ceiling. Ana could smell incense burning in a brazier, then motion caught her eye near the altar covered with fine damask at the far end of the chapel. The Archigos stepped up onto the altar dais, supported by a young male o’teni who towered over him. The Archigos gestured to them as Savi closed the chapel door, remaining behind in the corridor. Ana glanced around; there was no one else in the chapel.
“Are you disappointed, O’Teni?” the Archigos asked, his voice reverberating from the stone surfaces around them. “I know that the official ceremony was better attended with all the families and all the a’teni. . ”
“No, Archigos,” Ana answered. She remembered A’Teni ca’Cellibrecca’s stern, unforgiving face staring at her, and the way the others had looked at her as if she were a puzzle they had to solve. She was pleased none of them were there now. “I’m sorry. I’m. . very happy tonight.”
“Then please come forward and sit-there are chairs for all of you here in front. This is your vatarh and matarh?”
“Yes, Archigos.” Ana introduced her parents, Tomas going forward to kneel before the Archigos with clasped hands, playing-as he always did-the devout follower. The Archigos came forward to put his own gnarled and small hands around her vatarh’s.
“I thank you for sending us your daughter,” the Archigos said. “Vajiki cu’Seranta, I’ve arranged for the Concenzia treasury to transfer five thousand solas to your family’s account against Ana’s future services to the Faith. I assume that will be sufficient?” Ana could see Vatarh’s eyebrows lift and his mouth drop. She sucked in her own breath in surprise as well-the families of the acolytes in her class had been given a tenth of that sum.
“Oh, yes, Archigos. That is quite. .” Tomas stopped. She wondered what he’d intended to say. His mouth closed and he swallowed.
“. .adequate for the moment,” he finished. Ana could see him toting up accounts in his head.
The Archigos had noticed the internal greed as well, Ana realized.
He favored her vatarh with a dismissive smile. “One of my clerks will be outside when you leave, Vajiki,” the Archigos said. “She will have papers for you to sign that will complete the transfer. You’ll note that you will also be giving up the family’s right to either select or approve a husband for Ana: she now belongs to Concenzia and can make her own choice freely. You will have no voice in that, nor will you receive any further dowry for her.”
Her vatarh frowned at that. “Archigos, we had expected to advance the family through Ana’s marriage.”
“Then perhaps a thousand solas will suffice, if you prefer to retain those rights. It doesn’t matter to me. My secretary, O’Teni Kenne ci’Fionta, is right here.” The Archigos nodded to the teni who was standing next to him. “Kenne, would you be so kind as to tell the clerks to make that change in the contract. . ”
Vatarh’s eyes widened again and he hurried to answer as the o’teni bowed and started down the aisle of the chapel. “No, Archigos,” he answered. “I think the agreement will be sufficient as is.”
“Ah,” the Archigos said. Kenne, with a slight smile, returned to the Archigos’ side. To Ana, the Archigos seemed to be smothering laughter.
“Then let us begin. .”
The ceremony was brief. Afterward, O’Teni ci’Fionta handed the Archigos the green robes that would be Ana’s attire from this time forward. The Archigos uttered a blessing over the robes, then handed one set to Ana. “If you would put this on,” he said. “You may go behind the screens there at the side of the altar.”
The robes felt strange against her skin; softer than she’d expected from the times U’Teni cu’Dosteau’s robes had brushed against her. She touched the slashes at the shoulders of the robe: yes, they were those of an o’teni, and on the left shoulder was sewn the broken-globe crest of the Archigos. Taking off her tashta and putting on the robes, she realized that she was also severing herself from her old life and putting on a new one. She would not be returning to her family’s home this evening, but retiring to a new apartment here in the temple complex.
I’m finally gone, Vatarh, and you can’t touch me anymore. .
She came out from behind the screen, holding her yellow tashta folded in her arms. Sala, beaming, hurried forward to take it from her.
Her vatarh nodded his approval, tears glistening unashamedly in his eyes-she wondered whether he was truly proud of her, or only sad-dened by what was being taken from him. Her matarh stared blankly ahead, as if transfixed by candle glints from the gold-threaded robes of the Archigos.
“Ah. .” the Archigos breathed. “Now you look the proper teni.
Vajiki cu’Seranta, I wonder if you would allow me a few minutes alone with your daughter. My clerk, as I said, is waiting outside to take care of the fund transfer while you wait. Your servants should go with you, but I would like Vajica cu’Seranta to remain.”
Anna’s vatarh looked startled, but he brought his hands to his forehead and motioned to Sala and the other servants. The Archigos waited, silent, until the chapel doors had closed again behind them.
Then he turned to Ana.
“I deliberately brought you here, to this chapel and without any of the a’teni about. Your matarh, her illness is grave. The Southern Fever, isn’t it? She was incredibly fortunate to survive at all. I’ve only rarely heard of anyone recovering who has been affected that badly. I remember all the funerals years ago when the Fever was at its height here in the city.”
He was staring at her, as was O’Teni ci’Fionta. “It was Cenzi’s Will that Matarh lived, Archigos,” she said, and the lie felt like pins stabbing her throat.
“No doubt,” the Archigos said. “And your will, also.”
“Archigos?” Ana started.
Faintly, the dwarf smiled. “There’s no one here but the four of us, Ana. No a’teni listening, no ears here that shouldn’t hear what you might say, no prying eyes watching.” Ana couldn’t stop her gaze from going to the young o’teni. The Archigos’ smiled widened slightly.
“Kenne ci’Fionta is someone I trust implicitly, so you must also.” He paused. “You no doubt prayed for your matarh’s life.”
“Of course, Archigos. Every day.”
“And Cenzi answered your prayers? Or was it something else?” the Archigos prompted, and Ana’s face colored helplessly. “You lie badly, O’Teni,” the Archigos said. He stepped from the dais and put his hand on her matarh’s arm. At the touch, the woman stirred, turning her head slightly but still staring off vacantly. “Your innocence and naivete is very fetching, Ana, but we’ll need to work on that. Tell me the rest, and tell me the truth now. Did you use the Gift of Cenzi to thwart Cenizi’s Will for your matarh? Did you do what you knew was forbidden for the teni by the Divolonte? Tell me the truth, here where you can.”
Ana saw the joyous evening and her triumph beginning to collapse around her. She wondered how she would be able to tell Vatarh how it had gone so badly so quickly. She could imagine his face going slack, his shoulders slumping and his will shattering inside him.. and the foul anger and abuse that would follow. “Matarh was dying.