Who could love the boy better than his own grandmother? she would always say. Implicit in that statement, of course, was her belief that Ashia herself was unsuitable, now that she had taken up the spear.
Ashia slipped by without disturbing her, closing the nursery door behind her as she looked down upon her sleeping son.
She had not wanted the child. She had feared what bearing would do to her warriors body, and there was no love lost between her and Asome. Her brothers need to have his own sister bear his lovers child had seemed an abomination.
But Kaji, that perfect, beautiful child, was no abomination. Having spent months with him suckling at her breast, sleeping in her arms, reaching his tiny hands up to touch her face, Ashia could not bring herself to wish any change upon her life that might undo him. His existence was inevera.
Enkido would be ashamed of you.
There was a creak, and the edge of the crib broke off in her hands with a loud crack. Kaji opened his eyes and let out a shriek.
Ashia tossed the broken wood aside, reaching for the boy. Always his mothers touch could calm him, but this time Kaji thrashed in her arms, struggling wildly. She tried to still him, but he screamed louder at her clutch, and she saw his skin bruising at her touch.
The night strength was still upon her.
Quickly, Ashia laid her son back in his pillows, seeing in horror his soft, smooth skin bruised and stained with the demon ichor that still clung to her. The stink of it was thick in the air.
The door slammed open, and Kajivah stormed into the room. What are you doing, disturbing the child at this hour?!
Then she saw the child, bruised and covered in ichor, and let out a wail. She turned to Ashia, enraged. Get out! Get out! You should be ashamed of yourself!
She shoved hard, and Ashia, fearing her own strength, allowed herself to be driven from the room. Kajivah took the child in her arms, kicking the door shut behind her.
For the second time that night, Ashia lost her center. Her legs turned to water as she stumbled to her room, slamming the door and slumping to the floor in darkness.
Perhaps the abomination is me.
For the first time in years, Ashia put her hand to her face and wept. She wanted nothing more than the comforting presence of her master.
But Enkido was on the lonely path, and like her grandmother, he would be ashamed of her.
CHAPTER 4
SHARUM BLOOD
327332 AR
Sit up straight, Kajivah snapped. Youre a princess of the Kaji, not some khating wretch! I despair of ever finding you a husband worthy of your blood who will take you.
Yes, Tikka. Ashia shivered, though the palace baths were warm and steamy. She was but thirteen, and in no rush to marry, but Kajivah had seen the reddened wadding and seized upon it. Nevertheless, she straightened as her mother, Imisandre, scrubbed her back.
Nonsense, Mother, Imisandre said. Thirteen and beautiful, eldest daughter of the Damaji of Krasias greatest tribe, and niece to the Deliverer himself? Ashia is the most desirable bride in all the world.
Ashia shivered again. Her mother had meant the words calm her, but they did the opposite.
Kajivah was apt to be vexed when her daughters disagreed with her, but she only smiled patiently, signaling her daughter-in-law Thalaja to add more hot stones to the water. She always held court thus, from the nursery to the kitchen to the baths.
Her subjects were her five dalting daughtersImisandre, Hoshvah, Hanya, Thalaja, and Everaliaand granddaughters Ashia, Shanvah, Sikvah, Micha, and Jarvah.
It appears Dama Baden agrees, Kajivah said.
Every head turned sharply to look at her. His grandson Raji? Imisandre asked.
A wide grin broke across Kajivahs face now that the secret was out. They say no man has ever offered such wealth for a single bride.
Ashia couldnt breathe. A moment ago she would have put this moment off for years, but Prince Raji? The boy was handsome and strong, heir to the white and a fortune that dwarfed even the Andrahs. What more could she want?
He is not worthy of you, sister.
All eyes turned to Ashias brother Asukaji, standing in the doorway with his back to the women. It was not an uncommon sight. No man would have been allowed entry to the womens bath, but Asukaji was but twelve and still in his bido. More, he was pushting, and all the women knew it, more interested in the gossip in a womans head than what was under her robes.
All the women of the family adored Asukaji. Even Kajivah did not mind that he preferred men, so long as he did his duty and took wives to provide her with grandchildren.
Beloved nephew, Kajivah said. What brings you here?
My last visit to the womens bath, I am afraid, the boy said, to a chorus of disappointment. I was called to Hannu Pash this morning. I will be taking the white.
Kajivah led the cheers. Thats wonderful! Of course we all knew it would be so. You are the Deliverers nephew.
Asukaji gave a shrug. Are you not the Deliverers mother? His wives and sisters, his nieces? Why is it none of you is in white, yet I should be?
You are a man, Kajivah said, as if it were obvious.
What does that matter? Asukaji said. You ask whom Ashia should be worthy of, but the true question is what man is worthy of her?
Who in the Kaji is higher than Dama Badens heir? Ashia asked. Father wouldnt marry me into another tribe would he?
Dont be an idiot, Kajivah snapped. The very notion is absurd.
But there was doubt on her face as she looked to her grandson. Who is worthy, then?
Asome, of course, Asukaji said. The two boys were nearly inseparable.
He is our cousin! Ashia said, shocked.
Asukaji shrugged. What of it? The Evejah speaks of many such unions in the time of Kaji. Asome is the son of the SharDama Ka, beautiful, rich, and powerful. More, he can cement the ties between my father and the house of Jardir.
Asome, of course, Asukaji said. The two boys were nearly inseparable.
He is our cousin! Ashia said, shocked.
Asukaji shrugged. What of it? The Evejah speaks of many such unions in the time of Kaji. Asome is the son of the SharDama Ka, beautiful, rich, and powerful. More, he can cement the ties between my father and the house of Jardir.
I am of house Jardir, Kajivah said, her voice strengthening. Your father is his brother-in-law, and I, his mother. What further tie is required?
A direct one, Asukaji said. From the Deliverer and father to a single son. He dared to look into the room for a moment, meeting Ashias eyes. Your son.
You have a direct one, Kajivah said. I am the Holy Mother. You are all blood of the Deliverer.
Asukaji turned back away and bowed. I mean no disrespect, Tikka. Holy Mother is a fine title, but it has not turned your black robes white. Nor my blessed sisters.
Kajivah fell silent at that, and Ashia began to consider. Marrying a first cousin was not unheard of in powerful families, and Asome was beautiful, as Asukaji said. He had taken after his mother in appearance, and the Damajahs beauty was without equal. Asome had her face and slender build, and he wore them well.
Why not Jayan? she asked.
What? Asukaji said.
If I should marry a cousin as you say, why not the Deliverers firstborn? Ashia asked. Unless he weds his sister, who is more worthy than I, SharDama Kas eldest niece?
Unlike slender Asome, Jayan took after the Deliverer in formbroader and thick with muscle. He was not kind, but Jayan radiated power enough to make even Ashia flush.
Asukaji spat. Sharum dog. They are animals bred for the Maze, sister. I would as soon let you marry a jackal.
That is enough! Kajivah snapped. You forget yourself, boy. The Deliverer himself is Sharum.
Was Sharum, Asukaji said. Now he wears the white.
That very day, Kajivah set a fire under Ashan and dragged Ashia, Shanvah, and Sikvah before the SharDama Ka, demanding they be made damating.
But one did not make demands of the Deliverer and Damajah. Kajivah and her daughters were given white veils. Ashia and her cousins were sent to the Damating Palace.
It is good, sister, Asukaji said, as the girls were pushed toward the waiting Damajah. There is no reason why our father or the Deliverer should refuse your match to Asome now.
Kajivah did not seem satisfied, but Ashia could not see why. The Deliverer had named them his blood and heaped honor upon them. Ashia had no wish to be damating, but who knew what mysteries she might learn in their palace?
Kaiting. She liked the sound. It was powerful. Regal. Shanvah and Sikvah were afraid, but Ashia went gladly.
The Damajah escorted the girls out of the great chamber through her own personal entrance. An honor in itself. There waited Qeva, Damajiting of the Kaji, and her daughter and heir, Melan, along with one of the Damajahs mute eunuch guards.
The girls will be taught letters, singing, and pillow dancing for four hours each day, the Damajah told Damajiting Qeva. The other twenty, they belong to Enkido.
She nodded to the eunuch, and Ashia gasped. Shanvah clutched at her. Sikvah began to cry.
The Damajah ignored them, turning to the eunuch. Make something worthy out of them.
NieDamajiting Melan led them through the Damating Underpalace. It was said the damating could heal any wound with their hora magic, but the womans hand and forearm were horrifically scarred, twisted into a frightening claw not unlike those in the paintings Ashia had seen of alagai.
Sikvah was still weeping. Shanvah had her arms around her, her own eyes wet with tears.
You are an example to every other young woman in the tribe, her father told her once. And so I shall be harsher with you than any other, lest you ever shame our family.
And so Ashia had learned to hide fear and keep tears at bay. She was as terrified as her cousins, but she was eldest, and they had always looked to her. She kept her back arched proudly as they were brought to a small door. Enkido put his back to the wall beside the portal as Melan led through to a large tiled chamber. The walls were lined with pegs holding white robes and long strips of white silk.
Remove your robes, Melan said as the door closed.
Her cousins gasped and hesitated, but Ashia knew it was foolishand uselessto argue with a Bride of Everam. Keeping her dignity intact, she removed her hood and pulled her fine black silk robe over her head. Beneath, a wide strip of silk around her chest flattened the beginnings of her womans shape. Her bido, too, was fine black silk, wrapped in a loose, simple weave for ease and comfort.