Page 16 of The Boy Bride

“Of course he is,” said someone else. “His grandfather⁠—”

“You can tell by his eyes,” said Zoha, pulling his own eyelids sideways in a crude imitation of Lill’s.

“He’s half Chiddang,” Temar corrected them authoritatively. “No one knows who his father is—he might be anything.”

Lill picked up a writing stylus and threw it like a dart at Temar. It hit him in the forehead, making him jump satisfyingly.

“You are supposed to be listening to me, not gossiping about me,” Lill said coldly. “‘King Xshamaya says, Let anyone cast doubt on my right to hold the throne of Zash, and my sworn defenders will fall on him like a destroying fire, like rocks falling from the mountain, like a snake that bites in the night … ’”

The lesson ended when the gong rang to summon the boys to devotions. Lill replaced the tablet about King Xshamaya in its basket and ran upstairs with the others. They arranged themselves smartly in the yard before filing inside, where they closed the shutters, blew out the lamps, and crouched on the cold floor in the darkness. Hiding themselves, they’d been told, from the Almighty and his angels, that the divine eyes might not see the forbidden ancient rites.

Lill had read enough to suspect, even in those days, that this was useless; if God was all that the prophets said, you couldn’t hope to hide from him or his messengers. Lill thought it more likely that the angels knew all about the Order and just grudgingly tolerated them, the way you did spiders in the house, because they kept the flies down. You wouldn’t answer the prayer of a spider, though, if it came to you for help. You expected it to stay in its web, doing its job.

But of course he did the devotions, spoke the words of worship for the Great King, poured the libation, took his turn lighting the fires and killing the sacrificial animals. It terrified him to think what could happen if he didn’t.

That day all was as normal until about halfway through devotions, when the doors burst open at the back of the hall, and one of the men from the main house, a dark shape against the sun outside, shouted, “Red Asp is dead!”

* * *

“I think it would be nice if Da marries,” Atari said stubbornly. “I do.”

Vanu had not expected this. Atari was the youngest of his girls, and the one he understood least, if he was honest. She was not bloodthirsty like Mikhi or practical like Susami, and he hadn’t known her as long as either. He was never sure what she was going to think or say about things.

The family was sitting together on the sunny seating platform in the front room of Vanu’s house, an area made comfortable with cushions and rugs. They had finished their lunch, and they had all brought work with them, but they were talking instead.

Mikhi rolled her eyes. “You haven’t seen the bride. He’s like a doll.”

“What’s wrong with that?” said Atari. She still had a doll that she kept beside her bed, though she was too old to play with it anymore. She looked at Vanu. “Do you like him?” she asked shyly.

That was an entirely fair question.

“I don’t know him,” Vanu admitted. There was more to it than that, and Susami for one knew it, but for Atari that was a suitable answer.

“That is the problem,” said Susami. “Da does not know him, whether he will make a suitable wife. Tirtu should not have sent for him without asking first.”

“That is true,” said Vanu.

“We should invite him—the bride—to the house to eat with us,” said Atari. “Then you can get to know him.”

“He doesn’t need to get to know him,” Mikhi protested. “What is the point of Da having a bride? What would a useless doll like that do?”

Susami sighed, and even Atari looked embarrassed.

“Men want wives for different things,” said Susami. “It’s not just about what they can do.”

“I have not thought of wanting a wife,” Vanu said, to spare Susami—to spare all of them—further explanation. “Tirtu was kind to want to find me one. But we don’t know him, we don’t need him, and the best thing to do is to send him home. If you like, we will invite him to eat with us before we do.”

The girls all nodded, satisfied, although Atari did add, “I think we should keep him.”

It occurred to Vanu that she was just hoping for a friend.

“It would be nice to have someone new in the village, yes?” he said.

She smiled at him. “It would, but I understand why we can’t.”

“Speaking of new people,” said Susami, “I saw Padunu is back.”

This time both Mikhi and Atari rolled their eyes.