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behind Tana's ear. "I hope you see her, too," she whispered.
More petals brushed Tana's bare arm. She smelled honeysuckle.
Ma Hiral shooed Tana through the door and across the courtyard. "Hurry, child. The holy ones don't wait about for us to show an interest." With this parting piece of advice, Tana's mother shoved her through the gate and closed it behind her.
Tana's bare feet squelched in the muddy road. With a reflexive gesture, she tucked the silver pitcher under her arm and draped the free end of her red dress wrap over her blouse like a shawl to hide the glint of metal. Her mother had gone mad. Did Ma Hiral want the tax collectors to think that her family were so rich they fetched their drinking water in heirloom silver vessels?
As the rose's scent reached her nose, Tana bit back a snorting laugh. If Diribani's gift lasted until sunset, they could probably afford to do just that.
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***
CHAPTER FIVE Diribani
"At last the rains have come, swift-stooping as falcons, fragrant as the lotus, dancing on the water."
Diribani sang and twirled. Ma Hiral had told her to sit inside, but she couldn't obey. Exhilaration bubbled through her body. Her feet wanted to dance, her arms to fly upward in praise. Joy flooded her; if she didn't express it, she'd burst.
Her bare feet thumped the courtyard's sun-baked ground as she shook dust from their bedding and saluted the twelve sacred directions: Grandfather Chelok, Grandmother Khochari, Brother Akshath, Sister Naghali, and the rest. How bored the Believers' one god must be, alone in his heaven. No wonder it made him jealous of his followers' worship.
The twelve were far more approachable, like family. Even
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so, Naghali-ji's appearance was as marvelous as a tale from the Golden Age, when gods and goddesses often walked among men. And her gift! Diribani didn't know how the vapor of her breath was transmuted into flowers and gems. Perhaps her duty was not to understand how it worked, but to honor the giver. So, without benefit of a temple grove's drummers, she sang and danced her gratitude.
At her words, flowers and jewels winked into being to adorn the bare courtyard. Every so often, Diribani tasted the edge of a petal or felt a gemstone slide cool over her chin. Otherwise, the goddess's bounty might as well have fallen from the cloudless sky as from her unworthy lips. Why had she been singled out? She had no idea; she would have to allow the goddess's hidden meaning to uncoil like a naga awakening from its slumber.
Oh, and Tana! Would she, too, meet Naghali-ji? Diribani hoped so. The experience was too large for one soul to encompass. If it was shared, perhaps they could make sense of it. She brandished the coverlet like a banner, and sang.
"Tonight, beloved,
I light the lamp to guide my moonbird home"
"Stop!" Ma Hiral ran into the courtyard. "Be quiet!" She seized Diribani's arm and dragged her stepdaughter inside, heedless of the cloth trailing on the ground behind her.
"But, Ma"--Diribani gathered the coverlet--"I just shook this out."
"Stay here," Ma Hiral snapped, her face stern.
"Yes, Ma." Diribani was worried by the deep lines that bracketed Ma Hiral's mouth. Shoulders tense, the older woman darted into
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the courtyard and swept the flowers and jewels onto another blanket. All the while, she flicked glances over her shoulder at the neighbors' windows and rooftops. After bundling the corners over one another, she pitched the blanket into the house. Then Diribani's stepmother quartered the courtyard, crouching to pat the packed dirt so she didn't miss any of the precious stones.
When Diribani would have helped, Ma Hiral shook an admonitory finger. Even standing on the threshold to shake the blanket earned Diribani a scolding look. She stepped back into the shadowed room. Unsettled by her stepmother's mood, Diribani sat on the floor and sorted the rough gems into piles: diamond, ruby, topaz, carnelian, sapphire, emerald, amethyst, jade, bloodstone,
Maggie Ryan, Blushing Books