Folio Two, Page Twenty-Five (svegra mos rokron tal-sjek)
We left the room and walked to the top of the stairs. In the courtyard below, I saw at least fifty people — hardly a modest number — and the official count told us that over three hundred close family friends paid their respects at some point that evening. Of course, everyone wanted to see the girl who had burst onto the scene that morning, and Senet proved a very good bouncer. He whispered names in my ear as we approached, along with any titles or reasons for personal distinction. It amazed me how many writers and artists my mother knew in addition to the politicians. Several prominent actors and directors from the Royal Theater in Menarka even knew her informal name.
Unlike me, Senet did not kowtow or bow to anyone. He only pressed his hands together and gave a polite nod of deference to some individuals. That power amazed me, and as much as I wanted it, the thought of what he had given up to attain it paralyzed my young mind.
The Karatha in children’s stories from the Canyons — almost all minor characters — leave home during childhood to go with the Karatha, even though they are not officially brought into the fold until slightly later. As much as I hated Anumë, I could never have left my family because I appreciated everyone else, even my somewhat eccentric cousin Hiret. I wondered if Senet had cried when he left home.
Eventually, we made our way to the place where the nuamua stood. They kept themselves separate from everyone else, or everyone avoided them, except for the occasional encounter with someone sympathetic to them.
When we greeted them, I performed the requisite kowtow as Senet looked on. “The daughter of your ally Akah Nitannyi is so polite,” he said, “quite unlike you, Ariëk. I see that you haven’t spoken a single word to me the entire evening.”
“If only everyone showed so much humility,” one of the nuamua said.
Against my better judgment, I peeked up at the one who had spoken, Ariëk. His fists flexed like one of the angry kids at school, but his face hadn’t gone bright red like every angry person I knew. It was only after peeking that I recognized him as the nuamë nuaf iča, the head of the nuamua. We call him Namgyatzi in the Canyons.
“Aneti, you can get up now,” Namgyatzi said. I felt very impressive to know that the Karatha called him by a name I had never heard before, and I made sure to remember it. “The Karatha were too cowardly to send anyone to her funeral.”
The tone of his voice made me think that I shouldn’t have stayed for their conversation, but I did anyway. I slipped my hand into Senet’s and squeezed it tightly. “We didn’t feel that a place in the procession was appropriate, considering that her final wishes specifically requested us to abstain. Besides, you should criticize your son just as much as us — he didn’t bother coming, either.”
“Adviser Tenes is on a diplomatic mission — offplanet — and he is one person,” Namgyatzi said. “They cannot rip here whenever they like.”
I looked up at Senet. “Would my mom like you staying here?”
“Yes, she would,” he said.
Namgyatzi opened and closed his mouth, but said nothing. I was too enamored of Senet to care.
0 comments:
Post a Comment