Ever (6 page)

Even Kezi's bare arms flood with pink.

“When this is over”—Senat waves his arm;
this
is the three-day oath—“I'll take the boy out to the fields, see what he knows about crops and channeling the river, see if he's worthy of a beloved daughter. Then . . .” He holds out his arms.

Kezi slips into the embrace.

Senat says into her hair, “. . . we'll see what his uncle offers.”

“Ah.” My voice startles me, brings me back to myself with the goats. She is on the cusp of transformation, from daughter to wife, a milestone on the mortal road.

They are soap bubbles. Why do I care what happens next? But my eyes return to her.

KEZI

I
FEEL MY HAPPINESS
in my feet. My left foot wants to keep me here in Pado's arms, a girl forever. My right foot wants to dance me away to Belet's wedding and then on to my own.

Mati hugs me too. She and Pado are speaking over each other. Mati is saying, “You were such a sweet baby.” Pado is saying, “Admat is good to us.”

Footsteps and the thump of a cane ring across the reception room. I hear Nia's protests. “No, Mistress. Please, Mistress.”

“If there is trouble, I will share it. They can't mean to keep
me
out.”

Pado's arms stiffen. Mati's nails dig into my shoulder as Aunt Fedo enters the courtyard with Nia tugging at her
shawl.

Aunt Fedo pulls the shawl away. “Stop that!”

Nia goes to the altar, where she mutters prayers.

Aunt Fedo rushes at us, waving her cane. “My sister is sick, and no one sends for me. My sister recovers, and she doesn't tell me.”

Pado backs away, but he can't leave the courtyard to escape his oath. If he does, he will break it, and Admat's wrath will be upon us.

“What is wrong, Sister? Why is Nia—”

“We're fine,” Mati says. “We only wanted peace for—”

“Peace from me?” Aunt Fedo is insulted. Then she relaxes. “Oh. You thought I was away. I returned this morning and learned you'd been ill.” She turns to Pado. “Brother—”

“Aunt Fedo!” I dance in front of her. “See my new tunic! I'm to wear it to the wedding.”

“Stand back. Let me look.”

I force my knees to support me and make myself smile.

“Turn around for me, slowly.”

It's almost impossible to do anything slowly.

“Oh, Kezi.” Aunt Fedo places her hand over her heart. “You've grown up. Yesterday you were this big.” She
lowers her hand. “Today a dozen men will want to marry you.” She faces Mati and Pado. “So, Sister and Brother—”

Mati jumps in. “Do you think I should have used another wool on the sash?”

“Why does everyone keep interrupting me? Except Senat.”

I'm thinking she doesn't know about the oath and I do. I'm not thinking that I would rather die myself. I'm thinking she rescued me from the snake's bite.

“Brother, you are to be—”

“Pado! Pado, congratulations on Mati's recovery.” Admat! My knees buckle, and I faint.

OLUS

I
roar, “Save her, Admat.” One of my goats
maa
s.

I send all my winds in search of Admat. The air quiets.

In the house in Hyte, Merem kneels next to Kezi, who is awakening from her faint. Senat, ashen faced, thanks Aunt Fedo for visiting. He guides her out of the courtyard, despite her protests.

No one seems aware of Nia, who is still praying at the altar.

Merem rocks Kezi in her arms. Kezi's face is in her mati's bosom. As Senat comes back in, Merem says, “Kezi can be a priestess and belong to Admat that way.”

I know the sacred text better than that, and I'm sure Merem does too. Only Kezi's death will fulfill the oath.

Senat joins his wife and daughter on the floor, puts his arms around them both, and rocks with them.

“Pado?” Kezi breaks out of their embrace and stands, swaying.

Senat rises too. Merem stays on the floor.

“Pado?”

“Yes?”

“Must I die today?”

“No!” I shout.

“No!” Merem yells, as hoarsely as when she was sick.

“No!” Senat bellows.

I want him to declare she'll never be sacrificed. Senat, save your daughter and break the oath. Suffer the consequences if they come.

Kezi wets her lips. “May I go to the wedding?”

“What wedding?” Senat looks bewildered.

“Belet's,” Kezi says.

He nods. “We'll all go.”

Kezi approaches Admat's altar and stands near the kneeling Nia.

“Admat,” Kezi prays, “ruler of the world, I submit to you and the oath that my pado made.” Her voice sweetens into a wheedle. “Admat, allow me a little more of my youth. Give me the rest of the fig season. In one moon, in thirty days, when the last figs have ripened, my pado will bring me to the temple.” She swallows—I see her throat constrict and expand. “Then the priests will spill my blood for you. Admat, I beg of you, give me a month.”

I call my quick wind from the search for Admat and send it to the courtyard altar. The altar flame flares, subsides, and flares again.

Kezi, Senat, and Merem gasp. Nia whispers, “As you wish, so it will be.”

I wish one of them would ask for her life to be entirely spared. I wish I could put the words in their mouths. Then I would make the flame bright enough to light up the entire city.

KEZI

A
DMAT WAS MERCIFUL
. I wonder if he may grant me more time in a month.

Nia, who is at my elbow, bows to me, her face awed. She backs out of the courtyard.

Pado and Mati and I smile at one another.

“See how happy we are to have a month.” Mati wipes her eyes. “A month.”

“Hush,” Pado says. “We're grateful, Admat.”

I swallow my tears. I will not spend my last month weeping. “Don't cry, Mati. Did I get dirt on the tunic?”

Mati shakes her head.

“Mati . . . Pado . . . the wedding. We'll miss the priestess's song.” I'm dressed, but they must change their clothes.

“Never mind the song,” Mati says. “Come with me.” She takes my hand and leads me away.

In the family storeroom I stand close to her while she bends over to open a small basket. She says something. I can't concentrate. I hear
caravan
,
exchange
, and
horse
. Horses are valuable. I've never seen a caravan. I wonder if I'll see one before— I choke off the thought.

Mati opens the basket. Inside is a necklace, which glitters. My vision blurs.

Mati holds the necklace out to me. “Put it on.”

Her hands seem to wag back and forth. I feel as if I'm underwater. Mouth open, I suck in air.

“Put it on.”

I grasp Mati's arm to keep from fainting again. She pulls me into her. I feel the necklace against my neck and smell her clove perfume. I don't know how long we cling. My dizziness comes and goes in waves.

Eventually I feel better and draw away. “Give me the necklace.”

She puts it into my hands in a jumble. My hands drop
an inch because I don't expect the weight. I untangle the jumble. Blue and orange gems alternate with gold beads.

“It was for your wedding day.” She cups my chin in her hands. “Put it on. Wear it today. My love, wear it today.”

While I fumble with the clasp, she searches through a pile of baskets until she finds the one she wants. This one holds a pair of earrings, each one a gold crescent moon hung with gold cones. “These were my mati's. Put them on too.”

I do. At the wedding I'll be more bejeweled than the bride.

Mati digs through more baskets. “Everyone will remember my beautiful daughter.”

“Mati?”

She looks up from her search, more jewelry in her hands.

“Did Admat choose me because Aunt Fedo uses a cane, and I don't have a blemish?” Sacrificial animals must be without a blemish or they're not acceptable to Admat.

“Admat's ways—” She's crying too hard to finish. The bracelets in her hands clank against one another.