the ceremony, I walked to the men’s quarters and called out to Father.
“Why are you here, my son?” he asked, his eyes nervously surveying the courtyard. “Now that the Restraint has begun, you know the customs forbid us speaking together.”
My father rarely looked nervous, and I understood that he was worried for my sake. “I wanted to share my joy with you, Father.”
“I am honored. Tell me then, now that you have finally met the one you love so deeply, what do you think of her? Is she as wonderful as you imagined?”
“We told each other all our hearts, and Father, she pleases me well.”
He tousled my hair. “Does she not remind you of Krika?”
“Krika?” He had mentioned my lost friend and had stirred my anger. “Krika was Doreni and a boy. Satha is neither.”
“They share the same fire. Can you not see it?”
“If that’s true, she’s lucky that Nwaha and not Okiak is her father.” And then, suddenly, like a silly child I began to cry. On the day of my betrothal! How glad I was that Satha was not nearby to see my childishness!
Father held me tightly, pushing my head into his chest, enveloping me in his arms. “I cried, too, on the day I was betrothed to my first wife. I cried, too, on the day you were born.”
I had always understood that Father’s dearest love was not my mother, but his first wife, the one his parents had brought to him after Monua rejected him.
“Father,” I said, “Your first wife lives happily in the fields we long for. You loved her with all your heart. I loved Krika also. He was my age-brother but much more. He was my other heart. I cannot bear to think of him stumbling about in Gebelda, waiting for a life to be sacrificed for him. Could you bear to think of your first wife, or even of my mother, in such a place? Could we not go to the shrine, secretly, and shed some lamb’s blood for Krika? Can I not cut my wrist, hands and palms for him? Should he not be able to sit in the Creator’s longhouse? And look, on such a happy day as this, he should ... he would ... if Krika were alive now, he would stand by my side in all battles against the Arkhai. Yes, he would stand by me in the full marriage ceremony. He would—”
“Sio will stand by your side,” he said, interrupting me. No word about Krika: the deepest heart of my pleading was ignored.
I opened my mouth then closed it again. Clan tradition stated that the son of a warrior’s wife is a warrior’s true son. The law was made for the children of widows and concubines. Not for the bastards of adulteresses. However, Father had forced his own interpretation on our clan.
My heart closed even more against him. “Although you accept Sio as your son, I don’t accept him as my brother.”
Ravens winged towards some unseen carcass, cawing as they went.
“Does that matter? The boy has a kind heart and has drawn a circle, which includes you. He’ll turn you into his brother soon enough. At least, that is his hope.”
“He’s young. I hope he’ll lose that hope when he grows older.”
“When you were younger, you loved him as a brother.”
“Yes, when I was young and understood as little as he does. But young minds change when they grow older.”
Father started laughing. “Are you one to speak about young people’s minds? You who fell in love with a woman you don’t know? A woman who is obviously reluctant to marry you? You who hold onto hurt—my hurt—as if it were your own: you dare speak to me about—”
“About Krika, Father!” I said raising my voice. “I was speaking of Krika. My true brother. Not of Sio.”
He clasped his hands together in front of his face, a thing he always did when he was losing his patience. “How often have you asked me to order a ceremony for Krika? And how often have I told you that is the one thing I cannot do? The Arkhai stronghold is powerful and they see all. If I—”
I pushed him away, wiping my tears. “They’re powerful only because we don’t understand the Creator’s love.”
He stared at me. “And do you know the Creator’s love?”
“He’s far away,” I admitted. “How can I know one who is unlike me and so far above us?”
“True words.” He sounded relieved. “In this at least, you’re not arrogant. The Creator is high above, yes, and because of this, he cannot tend to small matters or small persons. For this reason, he has given us the Arkhai, the shaman, and the holy ones to teach us how to live holy lives.”
“The Arkhai? Those shadow princes? Those posers, deceivers, and boasters? Father, it shames me that you bend to such beggarly and evil spirits! Jobara! Your stupidity in all things—Sio, the Third Wife, Okiak—shames me.”
Across the field was the armory where the guns and cannons of the invaders were kept. I pointed at its latched doorway. “You understand the workings of all these weapons, Father. You have conquered many cities. Yet you leave the sharpest weapons unsheathed and out in the open for anyone to fall upon.”
“You’re speaking of my wife, Loic.” He pointed in my face. “Don’t let your anger take you into a battle you cannot win.”
“Did you see how your wife behaved today? Sitting opposite mine and dressed in costly array and covered in pearls! She’s still acting as if she’s Arhe here.” I clasped my hands together and pleaded with him. “Even now you can divorce her, Father. So, what if the town calls you a cuckold? It’s not as if the thing isn’t known already outside our clan.”
“Perhaps you should remember that as you love Satha so I once loved the Third Wife. Could you repudiate Satha if she wounded you?”
“Satha would never wound me.”
“So you say.” He touched the fuzzy growth on my chin. “What if after the year-mark she decides not to go ahead with the full marriage?”
His words made my head throb and my heartstrings tighten, but I did not show my fear.
“No answer?”
“Satha will enter the full marriage.”
“Kwelku. So you say. Even so. Learn to live with my mistakes as I’ve learned to live with yours. Your wife will be Arhe over all these households. Is that not enough? There is no need to repudiate my wife. Her lack of status in this household is repudiation enough.”
“Kill the whore, Father!” I shouted and suddenly the sting of an open-handed blow silenced me. I had gone too far. Blood streaked from my nose and through my lips. My hand trembled with the urge to return the strike. His scorn-filled eyes dared me to return the blow. I lowered my hand. My head, but not my heart, was bowed, and we stood silently facing each other.
“I should not have hit you, my child,” he said at last. “But one so young should not be so unforgiving. Especially if he isn’t the wounded one.”
I pushed him away, and wiped my bloody nose with the sleeve of my gyuilta. I walked away, throwing my gyuilta to the
