remember the face of the Old Ones and we can teach our children what we’ve seen this day.”
And because she was the lady who had offered marriage and been accepted on this spot, the others had to do her will for the space of two songs. They studied the head of the Old One, and together Kiti and Upua entered into the legends of the village of Da’aqebla forever. They also entered into marriage, and Kiti, who would have trembled at the thought of being the husband of such a terrifying lady, would soon learn that she was a kind and loving wife, and that to be an attentive and protective husband to her would bring him only joy. He would still miss kTi from time to time after that, but never again would he think that Wind had punished him by not catching him up to heaven with kTi.
On this day, however, they did not know what the future would bring. They only knew that Kiti was the boldest sculptor who had ever lived, and because his boldness had won him a lady as his wife, it raised him at once in their estimation. He was truly kTi’s otherself, and though kTi was taken from them, in Kiti his courage and cleverness would live on until, with age, they would become strength and wisdom.
When the two songs had passed, when the flock of ladies and men arose and went on to the next man, dark shapes emerged from the shadows of the trees. They, too, circled the strange sculpture, and then finally picked it up and carried it away, though it was uncommonly large and heavy and they did not understand it.
Three
Secrets
It just slipped out. Chveya didn’t intend to tell anyone what she had heard outside Mother’s door last night. She could keep a secret. Even a devastating secret like the fact that Mother was planning for Dazya to grow up and marry Rokya during the voyage. What did that mean, that Chveya was supposed to marry Proya or something? That would be fun, wouldn’t it. He should marry Dazya, so the two bossiest children could boss each other to their heart’s content. Why did Chveya’s own mother want Dazya to get the best boy who wasn’t a double first cousin?
Chveya was still brooding about this when Dazya started yelling at her for some stupid thing—leaving a door open that Dazya wanted closed, or closing it when Dazya wanted it open—and Chveya just blurted out, “Oh, shut up, Dazya, you’re going to grow up and marry Rokya during the voyage anyway, so you can at least let me decide about doors.”
And it wasn’t Chveya’s fault that Rokya happened to be coming through the door with his father right then, carrying baskets of bread to be frozen for the voyage.
“What are you talking about?” said Rokya. “I wouldn’t marry either of you.”
It wasn’t Rokya’s reaction that worried Chveya. It was Rokya’s father, little Zdorab. “Why are you thinking about who will marry Padarok?” asked Zdorab.
“He’s just the only one who’s not a cousin or something,” said Chveya, blushing.
“Veya always thinks about marriage,” said Dazya. Then, helpfully, she added, “She’s sick in the head.”
“You’re only eight years old,” said Zdorab, smiling with amusement. “Why would you think marriages would be happening during the voyage?”
Chveya clamped her mouth shut and shrugged. She knew that she shouldn’t have repeated anything she heard outside her mother’s door. If she said nothing more now, perhaps Zdorab and Rokya and Dazya would forget about it and then Mother would never know that Chveya was a spy and a blabber.
Elemak listened to Zdorab impassively. Mebbekew was not so calm. “I should have known. Planning to steal our children from us!”
“I doubt it,” said Elemak.
“You heard him!” cried Mebbekew. “You don’t think Chveya would invent this scheme of keeping children awake so they’d grow up during the voyage, do you?”
“I mean,” said Elemak, “that I doubt Nyef would choose to keep our children awake.”
“Why not? He could have ten years to poison