'That's also how it was arranged in Kartu Town, where I grew
up. Yet it seems to me, Holy One, that people did not treat each other very well in the house where I grew up. I sold produce in the market for several years and I heard plenty about the misery folk endured in their households. Maybe people could have at the least the right to say no to an arrangement. Then maybe more would treat each other decently and fewer fall into abuse.'
'Spoken passionately, verea. And with some understanding of human nature, rare to see in one so young as you. Yet you must know, having seen the ceremony of binding, that we do not force young women to accept a marriage. She doesn't have to eat the rice.'
'There are other means of coercion.'
'Those who truly fear the arrangement made by their clans are not required to suffer. The temples can always serve as their refuge.'
Mai lifted her chin, sensing victory in those words. 'Miravia is not fortunate, she is not willing, and yet she cannot say no. Folk will say she went willingly, when the truth of her heart speaks otherwise. I believe her when she says she will suffer abuse in that house in Nessumara. If I can do something to stop it, then it is dishonorable of me not to try!'
Miravia hid tears behind a hand.
The ginny thumped its tail once, then lapsed back into stillness. A small bird with a red-feathered cap and white-tipped wings fluttered in under the pavilion roof, landed beside the tea tray, and looked them over with sharp black eyes.
'You may suffer for this act today,' said the Hieros.
'I know,' said Mai. 'But I can't do anything else.'
The old woman bent her head, as if considering whether to make one more attempt to bargain Mai down. Her hair was entirely silver except for a few strands of black. It was bound up and pinned in place by lacquered hairsticks like those Mai herself used. Once, Mai supposed, it had been luxuriantly thick hair. Now, of course, age had thinned it.
She raised her head and looked at Mai. 'Do you trust me?'
'I came to you for help, Holy One.'
'Very well. I'll help you. But she'll have to leave Olo'osson immediately. Today.'
'There is another way, Holy One,' said Miravia. She sucked in a breath as for courage and spoke again. 'I could enter the garden.'
'Mira!' Mai grasped her arm. 'You can't-'
'Not as a hierodule. No offense to you, Holy One. I have no place in the temples as an acolyte. But merely as a — a — a-' She shook off Mai's touch, not in an angry way but in the manner of a person who knows she must walk the next stretch of the road alone. 'Once I enter the garden — and do what is done there — my family can no longer marry me off.'
'You can't possibly-' Mai cried.
'No clan among the Ri Amarah would ever accept me,' said Miravia calmly. 'They will say I am no 'daughter of theirs. They will say I am dead.'
The old woman had features honed by age; in them you could see the ghost of her youth, and yet Mai could not imagine her young. 'Who are we, daughter, if we have no clan? We are a fish hooked out of the water that sustains us and left to die on the shore. Do not be so eager to embrace this form of death.'
'I do not want never to see my mother and brothers again. But it is still better than what awaits me in Nessumara. Can you imagine sending one of your own daughters into such danger?'
The Hieros smiled. 'Certain of my daughters are trained to walk into danger, and they do, and I will likely never see them again. But you are desperate, indeed, Miravia. Is this truly what you wish?'
'Doesn't anyone ever think I also might be curious? That I might want to-' She stammered. 'Don't all the tales say it brings pleasure? I see in the blush on your cheek, Mai, when you speak of Captain Anji. Why shouldn't I be allowed to experience what every girl born into the Hundred expects she can have simply by walking to the temple after she has celebrated the feast of her Youth's Crown?'
'I am not one who will argue this point with you,' said the Hieros. 'Enter if you wish. If you feel apprehension natural to one coming from your circumstances, be aware that certain of the hierodules and kalos are trained specifically to- Well, it should be obvious we are accustomed to every temperament and wish a person might have, entering Ushara's holy precincts.'
'Miravia,' whispered Mai, 'it would be — with someone you don't even know, or-' Humiliated, she looked away.
'All are allowed to enter who have not offended the goddess,' said the Hieros. 'You, too, may enter if you wish, Mai.'
'I would not! Anji would-!'
'Does he own your body, as a master owns the debt of a slave?' asked the Hieros.
She could not find a safe place to fix her gaze. 'It would be shameful. I couldn't.'
Miravia grasped her free hand. 'Oh, Mai. Do you think less of me?'
'Never!' She burst into tears. 'I just want you not to suffer what I grew up with! That hateful house! Grandmother Mei's spite. My father's temper, and how it made everyone walk with their heads down for fear of looking him in the eye and getting punished for it. He beat my brother, Younger Mei — my dearest, twin to me — because he wasn't strong and angry like Father. And now my dearest twin doesn't even have me to protect him or hold his hand. But I always knew I would have to leave the house. That's the way of it, that the girls must leave to join their husbands' households, where they bide at the mercy of those who may treat them well or ill. Bad enough I should have to leave. I couldn't bear to think of you, Miravia-'
'It will be well.' Miravia kissed her and stroked her. 'Once my family casts me out, we'll find another way.'
'I'll gift you with so much coin,' sobbed Mai, 'you can set up your own stall selling herbs and ointments.' She sucked in breath and wiped her cheeks.
They embraced.
Mai pulled away. 'Best I go quickly, Holy One.'
'You came in secret, did you?' said the old woman with a faint smile, perhaps of disapproval. 'Now we will see what colors this thread layers in the cloth.'
'I don't want you to get into trouble,' said Miravia in a husky voice.
One last embrace. Maybe their last one.
Mai walked out of the garden with the palanquin carried behind her by silent but clearly curious folk. They did not attempt to speak to her.
It will be well, she thought fiercely.
The baby woke, and as she crossed under the white gates, ginny lizards peered down upon them from the trees and tall bushes. Atani turned his head as if trying to track them. As she passed under the outer gates and beyond the temple's outer wall, the sun had risen a hand's breadth above the estuary. The path down to dockside gritted under her feet. The force of all she had
said and done overtook her in a rush of feeling that made her tremble. What would Anji say?
The boatman stared at her as the acolytes jostled the boat while getting the palanquin fixed across the board, but mercifully he said nothing except 'You'll have to sit inside, verea, for there's no place otherwise.'
He balanced the boat deftly as she clambered aboard, tightening her grip on the baby until he squawked in protest. She settled onto the bench inside the curtains as the boatman poled away from the dock. She kissed Atani's sweet face for comfort.
The water had gentled, and the easy slap of water in the back channels lulled her. Smells and sounds rose from the channeclass="underline" musty molding thatch; the dry rustle of reeds; the whit-whoo of a bird calling after its mate. Soon she heard the rumble of wheels, a hammer pounding a steady rhythm, a burst of laughter cut short. A boy's voice lilted: 'There is it, Seri! Go get the porters!'
What would she tell Tuvi? She'd not thought that far ahead.
The boat bumped the dock. An odd spill of silence emanated from the dockside where she might have expected the lively sounds of commerce.