will not hurt you, Satha.”
“No,” I stammered. “I did not think you would hurt me. But—”
“Ah, I see! I’ve heard that Theseni women are afraid of the dark and very superstitious, always sprinkling powders and dropping food for the spirits wherever you go. So it’s really true?” He grinned, entering the room without invitation, and sat down on the bed.
“I’ve heard you Doreni men have small yphers and cannot satisfy women. Is that true?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard you Theseni women are so prickly and pious no man’s ypher can satisfy you. Is that true?”
We faced each other in silence until he lifted a pair of sandals so exquisitely worked their beauty almost left me breathless. I took them from him and placed them on my feet. How dainty my toes looked in them!
“Don’t fear these shadow gods,” he said. “They have no real power.” He said this with such quiet conviction and with such absolute certitude that I knew it to be the truth. “Let’s go, now. While we walk, you must tell me why you don’t like mirrors.”
I stared at him, then glanced at a gold-edged mirror hanging near the door. “How do you know I don’t like mirrors?”
He turned the mirror’s face to the wall. “I’ll tell the servants to remove them if you wish. But your reason for disliking them is not a valid one. You’re not ugly and your dark skin is most becoming.”
“How do you know what is in my heart?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise. “Tell me, my husband. Can you truly see inside my heart?”
He seemed almost ashamed. “It is an unpredictable, undependable birth-gift. A trait inherited from my Desai mother. There is no faithfulness in it that I can trust in.”
“Nevertheless, Waihai! You’re blessed to have such a gift. Jobara!”
A grin spread across his face. “Do you truly think so? Although it’s so fickle? When I’m distressed or grieved, it is of no use at all. My confusion thwarts it.”
“Even so, my husband. Such a gift breeds fear in others. What warrior would not be unsure of himself when speaking to you? If that is the gift’s only purpose, it serves you well. No one can confidently lie to you. And who would dare conspire against you if they think you can see their thoughts?”
His eyes widened as if a new truth had been presented to him. “Jobara! Layo, Layo! Indeed! Yes, truly. Now that you know that secret I will tell you another. I also do not like mirrors. I do not like what I see in them.”
“What do you see?”
“I see the other world inside them.”
“Is there another world inside them?” I asked, surprised.
“At first, Father said I was imagining things. But then Little Mother recognized many of the mirror people I described.”
My eyes must have widened. “Who were these mirror people?”
“Dead ones thrown into the trash heap of Gebelda, or the holy ones taken by the Creator. Or the Arkhai who walk the earth, sky and water.” He stopped abruptly. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
“Waihai! Such gifts! Perhaps the spirits have marked you to intercede for them. And yet, with all this, your clan did not make you a shaman? Do they think perhaps that the falling sickness has wounded your mind?”
Shame spread across his face. For as long as it takes for a crow to wing across the sky, he stared at me. I realized I had spoken about his illness and stuttered an apology.
“Do you always ask stupid questions of people when they tell you all their heart?” he snapped at last.
“I wasn’t ... it just seemed ... only shamans and men with sick minds see visions.”
“I am neither a shaman nor mad.” He breathed deeply, like a child trying to push his angry thoughts away. “Don’t doubt me, Satha. I don’t doubt you. I’ve changed my heart. We will not walk tonight.” Then, pushing me aside, he walked through the doorway and down the tiled corridor.
As I watched his slender figure disappearing into the darkness, I thought, Perhaps I am indeed blessed to have such a husband. Even though he’s spoiled and not used to someone challenging him, I can see that he longs for the Good Maker as I have longed for goodness. Perhaps the Creator has indeed claimed him as his own.
* * * *
The next morning, Mam and Little Mother came to my door. They were like two minds in one head, and each head overflowed with similar plans for me.
“How did you sleep, my married daughter?” Mam asked, pushing the wooden curtain aside.
I was glad to see her. Yet because I was still unsure if such solitary visits were allowed, and because I was a married woman, I told myself that Mam need not know all that occurred between Loic and me.
She set about searching among my gifts for the right dress for me, while Little Mother explained that Okiak had been appointed to tell me about the Doreni food rules.
“In a year when the full marriage is performed, you will be expected to create a great feast for your guests,” Little Mother said. “And you’re expected to show your skills in Doreni daggerwork, and horsemanship. Horse riding, food knowledge, daggerwork and diplomacy are the four arts a high-born Doreni woman must know. We call them the Four Defenses because they are beneficial in dealing with danger.”
* * * *
The art of Doreni knifework was powerful and graceful. As Mamya Jontay showed me one tactic after another, she seemed no longer an old woman but a young Doreni warrior. “A Doreni woman has a small dagger hidden on her person at all times,” she explained, brandishing a dagger. “With all these vendettas, one never knows when one might be carried off.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Mamya Jontay,” I said, “My life is protected and safe. I see no use in learning useless traditions.”
Mamya Jontay said nothing, only smiled her inscrutable smile, then turned back to her practice.
Later Loic approached us on the field. How happy I was to see him and yet how fearful! I wondered if he was still angry with me.
“I see you’ve been studying,” he said, but his eyes showed neither desire nor anger.
“Mamya Jontay could assassinate even Fiancour, our hardiest Theseni warrior,” I replied.
“Fiancour?” He said, whistling. “Jobara!” Then he left. No other words did he speak to me, no emotion did he show.
That night, as moonlight spread across the fields, I paced back and forth in my room waiting for our Love Trespass. That was what they called it in those days. When I heard his footfall sounding along the corridor, my heart leaped.
“You needn’t have worried,” he said, when I pushed the curtain aside. “I’ve forgiven you.”
I hadn’t been thinking that
