***
Francesca found Sansoussy ways very strange. Having agreed to the betrothal, she was whisked away to her room, where Mina took charge of preparing her for the ceremony. Francesca was washed, combed, and dressed, as if she were a small child.
What amazed Francesca most what that Mina no longer glowered or gave disapproving glances, but instead confined her negative remarks to worrying that there wasn’t enough time to have a proper feast and fretting that Francesca’s hair wouldn’t be long enough to pin up when she married Ran-Del.
“I suppose it’ll do,” Mina said, pulling most of Francesca’s hair up in a knot on top of her head. “If you have some really strong hairpins.”
“Don’t worry,” Francesca said. “If I decide to put my hair up, I’ll manage just fine.”
“Of course you’ll decide to do it,” Mina said cheerfully. “What woman in her right mind would turn Ran-Del down?”
Francesca decided to be frank. “You sound as if you actually want me to marry him. I thought you didn’t like me.”
“You spoke up for Ran-Del,” Mina said, briskly brushing out her attempts at fancy hairdressing. “You told his great-grandfather what you thought of him, too. I knew then that you really cared for Ran-Del. It wasn’t just that you wanted to get him into your bed.”
“Of course I care about him. But,” Francesca added with a wry smile, “I won’t deny that I do like the idea of Ran-Del in my bed.”
Mina smiled back at her. “That’ll help. It isn’t all there is to marriage, but it’s an important part of it.”
“Tell me more about Sansoussy marriages,” Francesca said. “I’d like to know what Ran-Del expects.”
Mina complied, chattering away about what chores husbands and wives did until Francesca was dressed and adorned to her satisfaction.
“You wait here, sweetness,” she said firmly. “I have to go put on a proper dress, and Ran-Del shouldn’t see you until he comes to the feast.”
Francesca looked down at herself. Mina had dressed her in a long gown of red cloth, embroidered with intricate designs and trimmed with tiny beads. It was a little short on Francesca, and a little loose.
There was a scratching on the door frame. Mina scurried for the door, but before she reached it, Stefan’s head appeared in the doorway.
He looped back the curtain and came into the room. “Might I see my daughter alone, Mina?”
Mina sniffed in a way that suggested she might have forgiven Francesca but Stefan Hayden was another story. “Very well, but she must stay here until we’re ready for her.”
Stefan waited for the older woman to leave before he spoke. “How are you doing, Francesca?”
“I’m fine, Pop,” she said, holding out Mina’s hand mirror and trying to see how she looked. “Did you get the names?”
“Yes,” Stefan said, handing her a slip of paper. “Try to study them as much as you can. You’ll be expected to know them.”
Francesca took the paper and scanned the names listed there; she read them carefully, muttering them to herself a couple of times.
“Are you sure you want to do this, sweetie?” Stefan asked abruptly. “I can get you out of it any time.”
Francesca slipped the paper into a pocket of the red dress and looked him over. His brow had creased into a scowl, just as if a deal was about to go sour. “Are you having an attack of conscience, Pop?”
He let out a half-hearted sigh. “It was different when it was my idea. Now I feel just as caught up by this as Ran-Del must have felt. Why did the old man decide to go along with what Nisa and Toth both called my bat-brained scheme?”
“I don’t know,” Francesca said. “He held a seeing after Ran-Del and I arrived. He must have had some kind of vision, but he won’t say what it was.”
“I wish I knew,” Stefan said, his forehead wrinkling further into an intense frown. He suddenly looked at her more closely. “Don’t you look fine!”
“Thank you,” Francesca said, surveying her ankles. “It’s a little short because this was Mina’s betrothal gown.”
Stefan still looked uncomfortable. “I’d hate to think you were going into that betrothal lodge with any doubts.”
Francesca snorted with amusement. “Now’s a fine time to worry, Pop, after you left us out on the plains alone.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. If there’s one thing that being around Ji-Ran Jahanpur has brought home to me, it’s that I’ve been damned arrogant and high-handed.”
What was a few days in primitive conditions compared to the pleasure of hearing him admit he had been dictatorial! “Good! About time you realized it.” Suddenly overcome by affection for him, she embraced him and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about me, Pop. Absolutely nothing will happen in that lodge that I don’t want to happen.”
Stefan sighed. “Good. That’s one less worry, anyway.”
Before Francesca could answer, Ran-Del's mother suddenly spoke from outside the doorway. “Are you ready, Francesca Hayden?” Laiza asked formally.
“Yes,” Francesca said. “I’m quite ready.”
Mina was waiting for them in the front storage room. She smiled warmly at Francesca, gave Laiza a stern look, ignored Stefan altogether, and led the way to Ji-Ran Jahanpur’s great room.
Francesca looked around the room. So this was her engagement party? The lanterns were all lit, and a fire burned in the fireplace. A long table had been set with several places and there were benches on both sides. Ji-Ran’s chair had been moved to the head of the table, and he sat in it complacently.
Ran-Del was nowhere in sight. Isayah sat beside his father and there was an empty place next to him. Mina sat across from her husband, and Francesca realized that the arrangement of places was divided with the women on one side and the men on the other. Mina pulled Francesca down next to her, and waved Stefan to a place on the opposite bench. Laiza Ramakdawala sat on Francesca’s other side and they all began to eat. Francesca was wondering when Ran-Del would make an appearance when there was a scratching on the door frame.
Isayah got up quickly and went to the doorway. When he pulled back the curtain, Ran-Del was crouched there, waiting.
“Come, Ran-Del,” Isayah said, taking his hand.
As Ran-Del straightened up, Francesca saw that he wore a red vest embroidered with the same elaborate patterns found on her dress, and leather trousers with a row of red fringe down the sides. Isayah led him to the table and sat him down at the empty place next to himself and opposite Francesca.
Francesca began to eat, but she was nervous enough that she couldn’t have said what she was eating. She noted that Ran-Del ate almost nothing.
When everyone had finished, and the plates had been cleared away to a wooden bin, Isayah and Ran-Del moved Ji-Ran’s chair to its former place. The benches were placed on either side of the chair, and the others took their places again, men on one side, women on the other. Isayah began the ceremony by stepping up to his father’s chair and bowing deeply.
“Shaman,” he said, “on behalf of my descendent, Ran-Del Jahanpur, I ask that you sanction his union with this woman, Francesca Hayden.”
“Let him come to me,” Ji-Ran said.
Ran-Del rose and stood in front of his great-grandfather.
“Ran-Del Jahanpur,” Ji-Ran said, “do you desire this union?”
“Yes, shaman,” Ran-Del said. His voice was low but clear.
“Were you ever married?” Ji-Ran asked.
“No, shaman,” Ran-Del said, his voice sounding stronger.
“Let the woman come,” Ji-Ran said.
Mina got up and tugged Francesca along, stopping her when she reached the proper distance.
“Francesca Hayden,” Ji-Ran said, “do you desire this union?”
“Yes, shaman,” Francesca said firmly.
She answered just as steadfastly in the negative when he asked her if she had been married. Ji-Ran nodded his approval. Isayah handed him a bowl and a handful of pebbles.
“You will both recite to me the names of your ancestors,” the shaman said.
Ran-Del stood up straighter. “My father is Gomah Jahanpur,” he said, “and my mother is Laiza Hashem.”
He waited, and Francesca realized she was supposed to name her parents. “My father is Stefan Hayden, and my mother is Jian Wah.” She waited expectantly for Ran-Del to continue.
Ran-Del took up the thread. “My father’s parents are Isayah Jahanpur and Mina Walloon. My mother’s parents are Rabindrath Hashem and Alicia Fallows.”
When Francesca listed the names of her grandparents, Ji-Ran nodded at each name but never dropped a pebble into the bowl.
Ran-Del rattled off the names of all eight great-grandparents’ with no hesitation, but Francesca had to think back before she could name hers. Ran-Del had no more difficulty with his sixteen great-great-grandparents’ names, but Francesca had to peek at her written list several times.
After the last name, Ji-Ran Jahanpur nodded and gave the empty bowl and the pebbles back to Isayah.
“The union is acceptable,” he said as he handed Mina a pair of silver scissors. “You may prepare them.”
Mina took the scissors and cut several strands of Ran-Del’s hair. When she stepped up to Francesca, her brown eyes were filled with tears as she deftly braided the strands into a small hank of Francesca’s hair. She smiled at Francesca and sniffed once as she tied off the end of the braid with a length of thin cord.
Next, she reached up with her scissors and Francesca felt a tug as the older woman cut her hair. Mina patted her on the shoulder before she moved to Ran-Del with a small hank of black hair in her hand. Ran-Del looked solemn as she braided Francesca’s hair into his. When Mina had finished, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on his cheek.
“You may both approach,” Ji-Ran said, looking so benign it was difficult to believe he had punished Ran-Del in such a barbaric fashion.
When they were right in front of him, Ji-Ran handed a cup of tea to Ran-Del, who immediately passed it to Francesca. Recalling Mina’s instructions, Francesca drank half the tea and handed the cup back to Ran-Del.
He drained it, then tossed it to the ground and stomped it with his foot. Francesca heard the crack as it split in two.
Ji-Ran smiled and rose to his feet. “It is well. Let these two share their lives, until such time as they marry or part.” He handed Francesca a small leather bag filled with exactly thirty pebbles. She knew from Mina’s coaching that she should take one pebble out of the bag every night until she either married Ran-Del or ran out of pebbles.
“And if they part,” Ji-Ran said, “it shall be as if their union had never been, but if they marry, then they shall keep faith with one another, until the day that death shall part them.”
He smiled benignly at Ran-Del, who leaned over and kissed Francesca delicately on the mouth.
Francesca was glad for the warmth of his lips on hers. She felt rather as if she were dreaming. This bizarre ceremony seemed to be happening to someone else.
Mina gave a sigh, Laiza looked a little sad, and Ji-Ran stood up.
“Come along,” he said briskly.
“Are you coming, Father?” Isayah asked.
“Certainly, I’m coming,” Ji-Ran said. “Ran-Del is the only great-grandchild I’ll ever see grown up. I couldn’t miss escorting him to the betrothal lodge.”
They formed a procession with Ji-Ran at the head of it, followed by Ran-Del and Francesca. It was dark, but one moon was almost full and a second was a bright, fat crescent in the night sky, so they could see without difficulty. When Francesca looked back, her father marched along with the others, smiling benignly at her and looking as pleased with himself as he ever had.
As she walked beside Ran-Del, close but never touching him, Francesca was surprised to find that she was feeling almost bashful. The unfamiliarity of the ceremony made Ran-Del seem like a stranger to her, and the few anxious glances she had cast in his direction hadn’t reassured her. Ran-Del seemed distant, remote, as if his mind were elsewhere. Hopefully, he wouldn’t want to spend the evening meditating.
She looked at him again, noting the athletic way he walked, the sharp line of his profile, the way his chest strained the laces of his vest. No, watching him meditate wasn’t what she had in mind.
They reached the betrothal lodge in what seemed a very short time. A thin line of smoke drifted out of an open ceiling flap, giving the building an inhabited air. The group halted by the door, and formed a line on either side. Francesca was amused to see that her father knew what to do without any coaching.
Ran-Del murmured that Francesca must go in first. She walked down between the two lines of people hearing them offer good wishes for the future—a happy marriage and many children—and then she ducked into the doorway.
She found herself in a large, sparsely furnished room with a wide bed in the center. A shaft of moonlight came in through a ceiling flap, and a fire in a small brazier provided additional light. The fire smoked a little, the flames flickering and making shadows on the hide walls. Francesca took a deep breath. The smoky air had a familiar acrid tang—medicine wood. It wasn’t nearly so strong as it had been when Ji-Ran Jahanpur held his seeing but it was noticeable nonetheless. She recalled the close quarters back at Ji-Ran Jahanpur’s house, the way she could often overhear Mina and Isayah's conversation from her guest room. All in all, this wasn’t a bad place to get laid.
Ran-Del came in and stood beside her.
“Well, Ran-Del,” Francesca said. “Here we are. Is there any more to the ritual, or are we on our own?”
The Sixth Discipline Page 40
