Ever (23 page)

My fetching wind brings a loaded platter out from the cave behind the falls, where we stored yesterday's food. It sets the platter down between the two stone chairs.

“Olus, how many gods and goddesses are there?”

“You will be the forty-eighth.” I recite, “Abdi, Adda, Addi, Aham, Ahum, Ahur . . .
A
is the most popular first letter.”

“What is Abdi the god of?” She stretches.

“Cleanliness and laundry.”

“A god for those! Is there a god for slipper- and sandal-making?” She sits up. “I'm glad you're not the god of chicken plucking!”

I'm a little offended. “There
is
Jawa, the goddess of fowl, who gave mortals chicken plucking. Doesn't Admat oversee these matters too?”

“I never thought about Admat and everyday things. Only Admat and war or drought or flood or illness.” She
smiles wistfully. “And Mati, Pado, Aunt Fedo, and me.” She stands and tries to smooth out her wrinkled tunic. Looking down, she says, “Are all the goddesses beautiful?”

“Not Cala.”

“I forgot who she is.”

“The goddess of wild and tame animals, who used to be mortal. Before she became a goddess, her cheek was raked by a lion. She has a scar.”

Kezi squats and splashes river water on her face. “The rest are all beautiful,” she says flatly.

“Ursag is almost as tall as a giraffe. I don't know how Puru looks.”

“They're not goddesses.” She straightens and combs her hair back with her fingers.

I've been saying the wrong things. “
You're
beautiful.” I hug her and kiss her hair. And I send my clever wind to Enshi Rock.

“Thank you.” She breaks away and goes to the platter. “What would you like?”

“I'm not hungry.”

She nods. After loading her plate with everything we have left, she sits in one of the stone chairs and eats with obvious relish. I drop into the other chair and watch her—
her hands, her face, the dancer's way she sits—gathered, as if she could spring into a graceful leap at any moment.

Finally the last morsel is gone. She says, “Don't look!”

I obey, although it doesn't matter if I look or not. I know she's licking drops of honey off her plate.

“There. You can look.” She puts her plate down on the grass at her feet and stands.

A parcel wrapped in burlap lands with a thump on the chair she just rose from.

“What's this?”

My nimble wind unwraps the burlap. I'm smiling.

“Oh!”

A tunic for her is on top, mine underneath. She runs her hand over hers, then unfolds it. “Is that gold thread?” She points to the embroidery at the hem.

I stand. “Probably.” My clever wind is very clever.

She picks up the sash.

“Green for good fortune,” I say.

She blushes. “Green for marriage.” She lays her tunic down on the other stone chair and picks mine up. “It's the color of iron. The exact color. You have a dye this color on Enshi Rock?”

“We must. Ahum is the god of cloth and weaving.” There is green in my tunic, too, along the hem.

She holds my tunic up against me. “Splendid.”

While she's so close, I kiss her.

“Olus . . .” She turns and places the tunic carefully atop the burlap. “If I die—”

“Shh!”

“Let me talk. If I die, keep looking for Admat.”

“I will.” If she dies, I'll have my revenge on Admat, if I find him, and I'll certainly take revenge on his priests.

“Comfort my parents and Aunt Fedo. Watch over them.”

I choose my words so that I promise nothing. “You mustn't worry.” I may not have the compassion to comfort her family. I may revenge myself on them, too.

“When I'm dead, I may not be able to think of you. There—”

“Stop!”

“If I die . . .” She touches my cheek. “If I die . . .”

I kiss her and taste the honey on her breath.

“I love you now,” she says. “I love you immortally, even if I die and there is nothing left of me.”

KEZI

I
WAS SO BRAVE
at breakfast! And now, flying on Kastu to Enshi Rock, I am terrified. I may vomit my courage down over Akka.

Admat, I pray, wherever you may be, if you may be, let me live. Let me pass the gods' test. I didn't want to be immortal before. I know I said so. But I want to live, so please forget my earlier wish and let me become immortal.

I rest my head on Kastu's neck. Kastu, give me horse valor. Let me do my best.

Olus is next to me on one of his winds. I looked at him once but not again. His face was stamped with worry.

We are high above Akka. This time clouds don't close in. Olus's winds do not fail him. Enshi Rock grows until it blocks out the sun and all but a trimming of sky. The rock's underside is forbidding, nothing but spikes and
fangs of dirty yellow stone.

Two winged steeds push off the top edge and fly toward us. Sentries come to warn us away?

“Hannu!” Olus shouts. “Arduk!”

His parents! I lace my fingers in Kastu's mane.

They fly close. How can they be thousands of years old? They seem barely older than I am.

After circling once, they join us. Hannu flies on Olus's left, Arduk on my right. Arduk has silky black hair just as Olus does.

He smiles. “Green Bean,” he says, “so you're the girl our Turnip admires.”

Loves
and admires.

Green Bean? He's nicknamed me! I blush and smile and can't think of anything to say. Finally: “Akka is beautiful.”

“Hannu made the earth and I made the plants. Enshi Rock is beautiful too.”

We are rising next to a cliff of the same ugly yellow stone as the rock's bottom. I dare to glance at Hannu, who has pulled Olus close to her and linked her arm in his.

He says, “This is Kezi, Hannu. Kezi, this is my mati. Hannu, be welcoming.”

“What would I be?” She turns a brilliant smile on me and waves.

I bow my head. She could hate me behind her smile. I'm certain only that she is the most magnificent woman I've ever seen. Olus has her wide mouth and brown eyes, but not her elegant eyebrows. Her legs gripping her mount are athletic and graceful. Her arms are as finely modeled as her pottery.

“Kezi!”

I turn to Olus.

“We've arrived.”

We rise above Enshi Rock. I look down. The edge is a ribbon of grass. We fly over a narrow peninsula. I see rows of stone seats circling a tiled floor. Men and women fill the first few rows. A woman addresses them.

Not men and women. Gods and goddesses! My stomach tightens.

“Hannu made the peninsula to hold the amphitheater,” Arduk says. “Enshi Rock widens ahead.”

He is kind to be my guide, although I can hardly pay attention. Soon I'll know my fate. My ears drum
soon soon soon
.

“Below is my farm, Green Bean. There's my garden. I planted certain flowers for contrast and others to blend
into each other.”

Try to concentrate. I may never see this again.

Two gods sit on a bench. A goddess stands nearby.

Oh! There's a hole in the center of the garden!

No. Not a hole. A lake that perfectly reflects the blue sky. We cross it, and I see the bellies of the three steeds, their tucked-in legs, and the undersides of their enormous wings.

Ahead is an extraordinary tower, made of a single tall stone. It's a white finger poking from the center of Enshi Rock.

I turn to Olus. “What is that?”

Arduk answers. “Our temple, Green Bean. Our home. Hannu made it.” I hear the pride in his voice.

As we approach, I see windows and, on the roof, a canopy. Olus's place, he's told me.

We land in a paddock near a stable. I rub Kastu's nose. Give me good fortune, Kastu.

“Kezi!” Hannu opens her arms. “You saved my son! I saw you rise from the volcano with him.”

Olus touches my shoulder, I think to give me confidence, which certainly I need.

She pulls me into a hug. After a moment she holds me at arm's length. “He would have died for you. How I
hated you! But you saved him.” Her eyes search my face. She is judging me.

I stop breathing and meet her eyes. Is this the test? Is Olus's mati my judge?

Whatever she sees, she says, “You are worthy of my son's love.” She pulls me close again.

“Th-thank you,” I mumble over her shoulder.

She releases me. “I hope you will be my daughter.”

Hope
. This was not the test.

Arduk says, “We both hope you will be our daughter, Green Bean.” He crouches and cups his hand over a patch of grass.

“Arduk . . .” Olus says.

“Patience, Turnip,” he murmurs. His eyes are closed.

The rest of us wait in silence, although I'm not sure why we're waiting.

Arduk opens his hand. Small flowers climb a tall stalk. Their orange petals are shot through with white veins. I could weave a rug of a single blossom, if I ever weave another rug.

Arduk stands. “In your honor.”

I swallow. “Thank you.”

Olus takes my hand. “Where is the ceremony?”

“In Ursag's library, Turnip.”

“In the temple,” Olus tells me.

We follow an avenue lined with date palms. I put one foot in front of the other and grip Olus's hand as tight as I can.

Compared to the temple I feel as tiny as a rabbit. The temple is raised on four legs, each about three times my height. Hannu leads us up the staircase that circles one leg. At the top we enter through a white-painted wooden door into an indoor staircase. We climb past a landing and a door, another landing, another door, another, and another. I remember the tunnel down to Wadir. Now I'm in a tunnel going up, just as frightened as I was then.

OLUS

T
his
IS FEAR.
The bees and the spiders and Kudiya in the well were shivers compared to what I feel as we enter the temple library.