Naondel

by Maria Turtschaninoff

  I nodded to hide the fact that I was impressed. “Though not so far as the mountains. Several estates lie between.” I glanced at the silver stitching on his collar. “What is your position at the court?”

  “I am son of our esteemed Vizier, Honta ak Lien-che.”

  Walking along the screens of the southern wall, I stumbled and came to a sudden halt. The son of the Vizier! The man I had scolded and snubbed! I removed my hands from my sleeves and bowed low. “My lord. My apologies. I…”

  He waved away my words. “I prefer not to reveal my parentage immediately. All the better to learn what people truly think of me.” I looked up quickly and saw that sparkle in his eyes again. I pursed my lips.

  “Better to learn who is silly enough not to realize at once who you are.” I was displeased at him for having exposed me so. Yet he appeared to find the situation most amusing, and throughout the rest of our brief tour of the reception rooms and their artistic treasures he paid me at least as much attention as he did Lehan. He was an unfailing source of information on all the beautiful paintings, sculptures and ceremonial objects and furnishings that there were to see. Unlike my sister, I truly was fascinated by art history, and found myself listening with great interest, quite against my will. Iskan had a pleasant manner, though he was clearly poking fun at me. He spoke with ease and animation, and the only thing that irritated me somewhat was his tendency to do so with a certain sense of entitlement. But when he was facing me, and losing himself in the detailed description of a jade statue with its fascinating history of wartime plunder, he focused all of his attention on me. As though I were someone important. Someone he truly wanted to speak with. It was difficult to tear myself away from his dark eyes. When he finally led us back out into the light he held open the golden door, and his bare hand brushed against mine.

  It took a long time after that for my heartbeat to return to its normal pace.

  We journeyed home at dusk. Tihe accompanied us, while Father would remain another day to finalize the last trade agreements. Tihe rode out in front together with some of the labourers in their carts, and two hired guards followed behind our carriage. We were as quiet on the homeward journey as we had been talkative on the outbound. Lehan was asleep with her head on Mother’s lap before we had even left the city walls, while Agin and I were each wrapped up in our own silence. What she was thinking I do not know, perhaps about the rolls of silk cloth jostling along on one of the carts ahead. My head was filled with the classical paintings I had read about but never before seen with my own eyes, with thoughts of the great echoing halls and gilded ceilings, the throne room of Supreme Serenity and its three-hundred-year-old solemnity. But in every recollection was also the image of intense eyes and a flashing smile. I leant back on a cushion and looked out into the darkness that had descended upon the district.

  Iskan has not left my thoughts for a single day since.

  Father came home the following day, laden with purses heavy with coins and full of stories from the spice square, all the merchants he had met and talked to there, and how happy he was with how business had fared. Later, when we were sat in the courtyard, gathered around the supper Mother had laid out under the shade of a baldachin, Father licked oil from his fingers, leant back against the cushions strewn on the ground and took a glug of wine from his bowl.

  “And what about my little girls? Did you have an enjoyable day?”

  I let Lehan blather on about the garden and the palace and the nice young man who had showed us around. I stayed quiet. Father watched Lehan closely as she spoke, and when she had finally exhausted the topic he gazed down pensively into his bowl. “I met a young man before I left for home. He asked if he may visit my daughters with whom he had spent such a pleasant day in the palace.”

  I looked up at once. Father met my gaze.

  “That is precisely what he said—my daughters. Did one of you take a liking to him?”

  Lehan blushed and looked down. “Father, I…”

  “It is quite clear that he is referring to Lehan,” I said quietly. “He is only being polite.”

  “I cannot say that I understand it as polite,” Father answered. “It is customary for a suitor to make it known which of the daughters of a household he is courting.”

  “I was mostly interested in the palace,” admitted Lehan. “Though he certainly was pleasant.”

  “Lehan is still young, husband,” Mother said, pouring more wine into Father’s bowl. “Only fourteen years.”

  “What did you say to him?” I tried to sound as though the answer was of little consequence.

  “That he is welcome.” Mother gave him a sharp look and he shrugged his shoulders. “He is the son of the Vizier. It is not my place to deny him anything.”

  “I believe,” I said bitterly, “that Iskan is not accustomed to being denied anything. Ever.”

  I reached for a date to hide my reddened cheeks. Agin, ever keen-eyed, noticed, and I looked away. She turned to Father.

  “I cannot wait to set my needle in that saffron-yellow raw silk, Father. Where did you say it came from?”

  “Herak. There were many who envied the deal, daughter, you should know! But I have done business with the same tradesman for several years. He buys a great deal of our yield for a very favourable price. In exchange I buy raw Heraki silk from him. It is most coveted and little goes to export. The Lady Sovereign herself probably does not have as much rare cloth to set her needle in as you do, Agin!”

  Agin laughed. “As if the Lady Sovereign would do her own sewing, Father! You are too funny!”

  I flashed her a secret grateful smile. Now everybody was talking about cloth and not about Iskan.

  * * *

  During the following weeks there were two hearts that I studied especially closely: Lehan’s and my own. Mine perplexed me entirely. I had met a young man who was irritating and self-important, and who had showed interest in my sister. So why did he recur in my thoughts? Why were my daydreams filled with his eyes and smile, and my night dreams filled with his hands and lips? I had never been in love before. Agin and I had giggled about some of the boys in the district, but only in fun. Like children making sand cakes as practice before baking real cakes with flour, honey and cinnamon.

  However I tried to deny it, I eventually had to concede that I now had honey and cinnamon on my hands.

  Lehan was harder to read. She did not speak of Iskan—but then neither did I. She mentioned our visit to the palace once, but spoke only of the jade throne and not of the man who had shown it to us.

  I was quite convinced that her heart was still making sand cakes. Yet this afforded me no comfort. A man such as Iskan would have whatsoever he desired, and my sister was the most beautiful girl in the whole of the Renka district. One evening during the hottest of the summer moons he paid an entirely unexpected visit. Mother and Father welcomed him as an old friend, as if a visitation from the Vizier’s son were a commonplace occurrence. The servants rushed back and forth carrying silver trays laden with dates, candied almonds, sweet rice cakes flavoured with rose water, chilled tea and vinegar-soaked plums, prepared according to our grandmother’s recipe.

  I used to love those plums when I was a girl. Grandmother had taught me how to prepare them before she passed away. You must soak a ripening plum in vinegar and sugar with masses of spices. It is eaten during the hottest moons because, according to traditional wisdom, vinegar has a cooling effect on the body. We always had access to fresh spices: cinnamon bark direct from the tree and etse pods still moist with fruit pulp. When you eat the plum the sharpness of the vinegar makes your eyes water, but the sweetness also tickles your tongue, and the spices caress your palate.

  It has been a long time since I tasted a plum.

  We daughters were not called into the shaderoom, where Father, Mother and Tihe entertained our guest. The shaderoom ran along the north side of the house, where the hill behind the house afforded a certain shade, and it was the coolest place to be during the w
orst of the summer heat. Lehan, Agin and I sat with our needlework and tried not to let our curiosity get the better of us. We could not hear what they were doing, but sometimes Father’s hearty laughter resounded across the courtyard to where we were sitting. As darkness began to fall Father summoned his musicians, and soon the crisp strings of the cinna and the mellow tones of the tilan floated out to us. I smiled down at my embroidery. Not all harika employed their own musicians. We were most worthy of entertaining even the Vizier’s son.

  The evening was already velvet-black, and the air full of the coos of night doves and the violins of cicadas, when Father’s most favoured servant Aikon summoned us. We set our needlework down by the oil lamps and I straightened Lehan’s collar. When we stood up Agin smoothed down the stray hairs on my temple.

  “I am glad you chose your sky-blue jacket, Kabira. It makes you look like a blossom.”

  I pushed Lehan in front of me. “What does it matter,” I mumbled, grateful that the dim light veiled my blushes.

  Mother, Father, Tihe and Iskan were seated around a low rosewood table in the shaderoom, encircled by flaming lamps. The windows and doors were open to let the cool evening breeze flow through the room, which smelt of lamp oil and food, though the table had been cleared and only a few bowls of iced tea remained. We daughters knelt down on a woollen mat, at a respectful distance.

  “You have met my daughters, of course, my most honoured guest.” Father gestured at us each in turn. “Kabira, my eldest. Agin, my helper. And Lehan, my youngest.”

  I held my head down-bent but peeked up through my eyelashes. Iskan’s gaze swept over us all, and lingered on Lehan. It came as no surprise, yet I had to swallow hard several times. Next to me Agin sighed, ever so quietly.

  “Girls, the evening is late and our guest can no longer ride home to the capital. He is to stay with us tonight. Kabira.”

  I looked up. Father was scratching his beard. “Tihe and I have arranged a meeting with our neighbours in the north early tomorrow. Keep your mother company until our return as she gives Iskan-che a tour of the grounds.”

  “Yes, Father,” I replied and bowed. Iskan looked at me, and there was that irritating little smile again. I lifted my chin and brazenly met his gaze. I could never let him know of the effect he had on me.

  Agin did not want to leave her needlework the following day. “I am the only one with nothing to gain from this meeting,” she said mischievously. “You and Lehan are more than capable of entertaining our most lauded guest.”

  I could not think of a good response, so I scoffed and pulled Lehan along with me down the stairs. Mother and Iskan were already waiting in the courtyard in quiet conversation.

  “My ladies.” Iskan bowed elegantly as we approached and then straightened to reveal another of his characteristic smiles. That morning he was dressed in a deep-blue jacket and trousers of brilliant-white silk. “I could barely sleep last night for excitement about our little excursion.”

  I immediately blushed and bit my cheeks hard. Could he read my mind? I had not been able to sleep at all. Just knowing that he was in the same house was enough to set my heart aflutter.

  “My lord.” I bowed, and Lehan did the same. We were both dressed in green garments that morning, hers as light as young grass, mine as deep as moss. I had shown extra care in fixing her hair that morning, as had Agin in fixing mine.

  “I should be honoured to present our modest grounds.” Mother took the lead. We went out through the door in the low north wall of the courtyard. The ground was still moist with dew and the air fresh and fragrant. Iskan walked beside me, with Lehan a few steps behind.

  We had a pleasant morning. Iskan was attentive and asked intelligent questions about the estate and everything Father grew, about the number of servants and labourers, and our ancestry and traditions. I had rarely seen Mother so animated and verbose—by Father’s side she usually let him steer the conversation, and with her children she was full of warnings and sober advice. Yet now she was proving herself to be full of knowledge about flowers and the maintenance of the grounds. Iskan praised Mother’s herb garden and her flower pots, which put her in very good humour, and when he promised to bring her plants from the Sovereign Prince’s personal gardens she hardly knew how to express her gratitude.

  Iskan listened politely to everything Mother had to say. At times he asked me questions and kept me entertained with amusing side commentaries. His eyes lingered longest on Lehan. I realized that the same had been true in the palace. Lehan was only fourteen years old and did not have much to say. I was more interesting to talk to, but she was more beautiful, and my heart was aching, yet I was already growing accustomed to the ache. I was not the first girl to suffer so. One day my turn would come and a young man would visit our home for my sake, and perhaps he would not inspire in me scents of cinnamon and honey, but I could live with that.

  When Father and Tihe returned, we girls were sent back to our diversions, and Iskan ate a light meal with the men before riding back to Areko. Tihe came looking for us and found us sitting in the courtyard practising our calligraphy under the baldachin.

  “A remarkable man, Iskan ak Honta-che,” he said, and sat down by Agin’s feet. He bumped into her arm, as if by accident, so that her brush stroke went askew. She sighed as he grinned.

  “Did you know that he has already ridden into battle once? He accompanied the Sovereign Prince’s eldest son when they quashed the Nernai uprising. It was Iskan’s strategy that won the battle.”

  “I can imagine,” I said sourly and quickly set down my brush pen before Tihe could ruin my scroll as well. He loved to tease his sisters, yet always took our side against anyone else.

  “What do you mean?” Tihe stretched his tall frame out on some cushions and looked up at the bright summer sky. He had grown at an incredible rate over the past year and was now taller than Father. He was over a year younger than me and at least as self-important as Iskan.

  “I only mean that Iskan seems convinced that all success is his earning and all failure is the fault of another.”

  Agin laughed as Tihe threw a cushion at me, and I was glad to have set down my brush pen.

  “Girls understand nothing,” he said snidely. “Iskan has been schooled in leadership since he was a boy. He is his father’s right hand, and there is nothing that happens in the palace that he does not know about, or have involvement in. He gets to be where the action is. Not forgotten on a dusty herb farm like me. Next time there is war I want to be a part of it!”

  “Do you really think Iskan has been in actual battle? He and the Sovereign’s son were probably sat in a tent far from the battlefield drinking wine and playing pochasi.”

  Agin gave me a look of concern. “You are certainly not singing his praises.”

  “Why should I? One egotistical young man is much like another, whether he be the son of the Vizier or the son of a spice merchant.” I got up. “I am tired of writing. Can we not begin designing our new jackets? I want one made of the saffron silk.”

  As soon as we began talking about clothes and needlework Tihe left us alone, and nobody mentioned Iskan again that day. Yet still his name rang in my ears. Every beat of my heart was singing it, again and again. Iskan. Iskan.

  Iskan.

  Iskan began to visit regularly after that, and his visits soon took on a familiar routine. He would ride over in the evening once he had fulfilled his day’s duties at the palace and spend the evening with Father, Mother and Tihe. The next day, when Father and Tihe were busy with jobs on the plantation, it was up to Mother and us girls to entertain him. Sometimes we would walk through the gardens or adjacent spice plantations. If the heat was too intense we sat indoors and Iskan would watch as we did our sewing or other appropriate tasks. The ache in my heart became a familiar and constant companion to these visits. I learnt to live with it. Agin ceased her little taunts. Even she could see the way Iskan looked at our youngest sister. The only one who appeared not to notice or particularly care
was Lehan herself. She enjoyed the attention, that was clear, but I think that she saw Iskan similarly to how she saw Tihe—with sisterly affection. And I think that despite his pride, or perhaps because of it, he was not satisfied with this. So he continued to visit us without taking the decisive step and asking for Lehan’s hand.

  “He is like a dithering tradesman who pinches at packets and sniffs at cinnamon bark but cannot resolve to make an offer,” said Father one evening after Iskan had ridden back to the district capital. He liked Iskan and looked forward to his visits, but at the same time he was irritated that he never spoke his mind.

  We sat in the shaderoom and talked while moths of varying sizes danced around the oil lamps and singed their wings. Lehan blushed and went to refill the lamps on the other side of the room. She knew Father was talking about her and could never feel comfortable while others were discussing her future.

  “You know how it usually turns out for those tradesmen,” Mother replied, and cut a thread from her sewing. “They miss out on the best deals.”

  Father lit his pipe and took a pensive puff. “Right you are, Esiko. But so far there have been no other offers.”

  “No, but she is still young. I believe that many of our friends consider it inappropriate to allow their sons to court the youngest daughter with two older sisters still at home.”

  Agin and I exchanged glances. What could we say? Agin was only sixteen, so just old enough for marriage, whereas I was almost twenty, and Father had not yet received an offer for my hand.

  “I suppose there is no hurry. It will give Lehan a chance to grow up a little. It is probably only the spice merchant in me that wants deals to be settled as quickly as possible.”

  Mother and Father asked Lehan many times what she thought of Iskan, but all they could get out of the girl was that she thought he was “pleasant”. They did not want to marry her off against her will, but neither did she seem unwilling. So they let the matter rest. And I resolved that I must rid my heart of this folly.