loss in Aunt as a friend. Since the others held her hands, Fasilla could not wipe her face. Her tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Himayat opened his eyes. Seeing Fasilla's distress, he motioned for one of the Mayanabi near Fasilla to hand her a handkerchief. Feeling someone touch her arm, Fasilla opened her eyes, her expression startled. Seeing the handkerchief, she took it gratefully and blew her nose. As she did so, several Mayanabi left the room. Fasilla noted that all of them were wearing white. When this group of six returned, they carried Aunt's body with them. Fasilla stiffened. She had not expected to see such disfiguration in Aunt's face from the swelling caused by the wasp venom. Fasilla blinked, mildly horrified. At that moment, Himayat leaned toward her and asked, «Would you like to take part in this?» He offered a slip of
white paper with words written on it. Fasilla accepted the paper weakly, her face pale. «I'll tell you when to speak,» he whispered. Fasilla nodded, feeling too shocked by the day's events to say anything. Himayat got to his feet slowly. He was dressed in a long robe of black. He wore a red belt around his middle. It ended in tassels and tiny bells that tinkled gently like lilting wind chimes as he moved. Bowing to his own people and to Fasilla, Himayat began the burial service saying: «Mourn not o'er the death of the beloved, call not back the traveler who is on her journey toward her goal; for ye know not what she seeketh! Ye are on the earth, but now she is in heaven. «By weeping for the dead, ye will make sad the soul who cannot return to earth; by wishing to communicate with her, ye do but distress her. She is happy in the place at which she has arrived; by wanting to go to her ye do
not help her; your life's purpose still keepeth you on earth. No creature that hath ever been born belonged in reality to any other; every soul is the beloved of the Presence. Doth the Presence not love as we two-leggeds cannot? Death, therefore, doth unite man and woman with the Presence.
For to whom doth the soul in truth belong, to the Presence in the end is its return, sooner or later. «Verily, death is a veil behind which is hidden life that is beyond comprehension of the man or woman on earth. If ye knew the freedom of that world and how the sad hearts are unburdened of their load; if ye knew how the sick are cured, how the wounded are healed, and what freedom the
soul experiences as it goes further from this earthly life of limitations, ye would no more mourn those who have passed, but pray for their happiness in their further journey and for the peace of their souls.» After Himayat finished speaking, a man of Piedmerri draw handed him a golden censer. Himayat lit the cones of woody incense inside. As the pungent smoke spilled into the eating hall, Himayat circled the body of Aunt, going from left to right. He did not swing the censer but carried it motionless in his cupped hands. The smoke followed his movements, swirling into filmy ribbons of gray behind him. Himayat handed the censer back to the Piedmerri. Then he knelt beside Aunt's shrouded form and said his people's Prayer for the Dead: «O Thou, the Cause and Effect of the whole Universe, the Source whence we have come and the Goal toward which all are bound. Receive this soul who is coming to Thee into Thy parental arms. May Thy forgiving glance heal her
heart. Lift her from the denseness of the earth, surround her with the light of Thine own Spirit. Raise her up to Heaven, which is her true dwelling place. We pray Thee, grant her the blessing of Thy most exalted Presence. May her life upon earth become as a dream to her waking soul, and let her thirsting eyes behold the glorious vision of Thy Sunshine.» Himayat finished speaking and nodded to Fasilla. She remained seated. Her hands shook as she smoothed out the paper and cleared her throat. Her voice hoarse with emotion and nervousness, Fasilla read the following: «Heal Aunt's spirit, O Sovereign One, from all the wounds that her heart has
suffered through this life of limitation upon the earth. Purify her heart with Thy Divine Light and send upon her spirit Thy Mercy, Thy Compassion, and Thy Peace.»
«So be it,» said Himayat. Taking a deep breath, he smiled at Fasilla and the rest of the people sitting in the circle. «Lest this moment become dour, I invite you to dance in celebration. Please stand.» Himayat remained in the center of the circle near Aunt's body. He opened
his arms wide as if to take in the entire circle of people and the universe, too. «It is customary among my people,» he said to Fasilla, «to think of death as a wedding.»
Fasilla shrugged, trying to get into the spirit of it, and having difficulty. Himayat smiled broadly. «Aunt is dead, but only her body is thus. Her soul
is united with the Presence. And to this, we will drink tonight. We will toast Aunt's good fortune. She is the lover returning to the Beloved. But do not think that by our emphasis on joy at this time that we despise the earthly
existence. Do not think we eagerly wait to leave here. This earthly life is a good one. And for the opportunity of living it, we give thanks. But we also know that when we are called back to the Presence, we should not complain. Indeed we should leave with happiness in our hearts. Ours is not a caravan of despair or tragedy. Ours is a caravan of knowledge.» Himayat nodded at a middle-aged Mayanabi. She was dressed in rough woolens and had very few teeth. Her eyes were strange. One was yellow and one was black. Her step was spry. She entered the circle, carrying a ceramic drum. Himayat gave her a rhythm and she began to set the pace of the dance. As
she played, Himayat said, «This is a dance of the Universal. This is a dance for all landdraws. And for all times. The concentration is light. See the light in the eyes and countenance of the person on either side of you. Now bow.» The dance moved slowly to the right. Fasilla had no trouble learning the simple steps to the dance. The chanting and breath control were a little more demanding. Unexpectedly, she felt a surge of joy flood her body and
face. Her eyes danced with her feet. This is it, Fasilla thought. This is the way it should be. Dances for all draws for all times. A kind of universal ritual that raised everyone above individual differences and distinctions. Tears sprang to her eyes once again. She blinked them back, bewildered at the intensity of her own emotion. She glanced at Shruddi, who stood to her right. To her surprise, she saw that Shruddi had her head turned toward her. Was she staring at her? Fasilla didn't know. Fasilla had no time to conclude anything; Himayat started the next dance a moment later.
After an hour of this, everyone's spirits were soaring. Himayat finally called the celebration to a close. After a short prayer, several Asilliwir-born Mayanabi fetched food and drink for all to share. Even though Aunt's shrouded body still lay in the center of the circle, the mood was festive.
Surprised that she could feel hungry with Aunt's body lying in plain view of
the table, Fasilla got in line with the Mayanabi. As a Jinnjirri woman handed her a steaming portion of roasted, glazed fowl, Shruddi walked up beside Fasilla and said, «You felt something in our circle, didn't you?» Fasilla shrugged lamely. «I was giddy with dancing—» «No, you weren't,» said Shruddi evenly. «You danced like an old hand. Who is your Mayanabi master?» Fasilla stepped backward. «I doon't have one—» Shruddi stared at Fasilla. «I can feel him near you. Even as we speak. He's one of the great ones, I think.» «Oh,» said Fasilla with visible relief. «You mean Zendrak. He's just one of my housemates—» The people nearest Shruddi and Fasilla stopped speaking, their faces astonished. Shruddi seemed to be feeling the same emotion, for she struggled to find words in the ensuing silence. Finally Shruddi said, «Just Zendrak? Is that what you said?» she added in a shocked squeak. Fasilla bit her lower lip. She had gotten so used to Zendrak's presence at the Kaleidicopia, she had forgotten that he was the ranking Mayanabi master in all Mnemlith. Not to mention an incarnate Greatkin. Titles like those meant a great deal to the people in this room, Fasilla reminded