Racing the Dark (19 page)

Akua was wearing a coat and a rain hat, and looked mildly amused to see Lana standing stupidly on the doorstep.

"You're back, I see," she said. "Why don't you bring the food in?"

Lana mentally shook herself and walked into the cottage. The front room was warm from the fire burning in the hearth, but she still felt cold. She should confront Akua. She should, but ...

"I'll be back by dusk," Akua said.

"You're going out in this weather?"

Akua glanced out the open door and sighed. Quickly, so that Lana could not follow the words or even the flow of power, Akua recited a geas. Moments later, the rain stopped. The clouds still loomed above threateningly, but she felt the strength of the geas holding them back.

Lana's heart began pounding again-not with dread, this time, but with anticipation. "There's a geas to stop the rain?" she said, wonderingly. For a giddy moment she imagined herself with such power, and the control it would finally give her over her own life.

Akua's smile was indulgent and just a little amused. "There's a geas for everything, Lana."

"Will you teach it to me? You never teach me anything like that."

Akua shook her head. "You're not strong enough. You wouldn't be able to hold it. Do you know what happens when you aren't strong enough to hold a geas, Lana?"

She shook her head mutely.

"Pray you never find out, then."

And Akua had left by the time Lana realized that she had forgotten to confront her about Saulo. She tidied up the kitchen and tried, without much success, to feel regretful.

6

OHAKU CLUTCHED THE APPOINTMENT SLIP, barely able to stop himself from running out of the main hall and into the streets. Yet, happy as he was, he couldn't help but feel a certain amount of trepidation. After all his years of study, it came down to this: an hour after noon one week from today, he would know if he had achieved his dream of full professorship or if he would be forever doomed to his same lowly assistant professor status. In the four years since he had returned from his field study on the outer islands, he had slaved away at perfecting his research and sharpening his findings. A month ago he had submitted the final product to the presiding council of professors, and they had told him today that they were nearly ready to make their final decision. He had done everything in his power to make his research as compelling as possible; now all he could do was wait.

In its own way, it was something of a relief.

He hurried home and bounded up the stairs, skipping three at a time. Emea spun around when he opened the door, a quizzical smile on her face.

"Did something good happen?" she signed.

Kohaku tore off his purple headband-a little damp with his excitement-and tossed it to the ground. "In a week, I'll never have to see that lousy thing again."

Emea laughed-an oddly modulated breathy sound that Kohaku found infinitely endearing. "You were quite proud of that two years ago, you know."

"It's hardly something to be proud of now. I'm getting olderI'm ready for that professorship."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get it," Emea said, and then turned from him to go back to the loom. She had dug it out of the dusty pile of their mother's belongings a few months ago and had been working at it like a woman possessed ever since. Kohaku couldn't imagine what had gotten into her-she had enjoyed occasional embroidery projects before, but he could see no reason why she would suddenly become obsessed with weaving. The cloth she was making now had an alternating pattern of horizontal deep blue and vertical checks of purple and gold. It was the latest fashionable color scheme used for the lightweight carrying cloths with which mothers tied their babies to their backs, but since Emea didn't get out very much, it was doubtful that she would be aware of it.

Kohaku watched her shuttle the loom back and forth with practiced gestures. When she had first started a few months ago she was constantly cursing and hitting the machine, but now she looked like she had been doing it for years.

He stepped in front of the shuttle and tapped her head. "Why do you do that so much now?" he asked.

She shrugged. "It's a way to pass the time. I like doing things with my hands."

"But you seem so ... focused. You sit around all day wearing these shapeless shirts-if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were gaining weight."

Emea frowned. "I'm fine, Kohaku. Leave me alone." She turned her head away from his hands and began working the loom. Kohaku considered tapping her head again but then sighed and moved out of her way. It was her business, after all. She had been acting strangely of late, but he could deal with that after the judging next week, when he had more time.

Emea pulled the letter from her pocket again, looking around surreptitiously to make sure that Kohaku had gone to his room. She had been fingering it all day, ever since the errand boy had delivered it this morning. "I grow tired of playing this game," it said in the scrawling hand she knew so well. "Why are you avoiding me? If you are not there tonight, at our usual place, I shall consider it over." As usual, it was unsigned in case a copy found its way into his wife's hands. Emea took a deep breath and touched her swelling belly. She would not be able to hide it for much longer-even Kohaku had noticed something was wrong. Letting herself get pregnant with Nahe's child was one of the most reckless things she had ever done, but she could not bring herself to regret it. She loved Nahe, after all, and though she could not be his first wife, perhaps if she gave him a child she would at least be a cared-for mistress. After all the longing of the past few years, she had begun to think she could settle for that. Still, she had avoided meeting with him this past month because she knew that he-if not Kohaku-would have been able to tell she was pregnant. She didn't know how to tell him and she was afraid of how he would react. She stayed up nights longing for him, afraid that after all these years his affection for her was finally waning. He didn't touch her the way he used to, and he spent much of their time together worrying about his wife. It was easier, most of the time, to lose herself in her loom, to find the smallest pleasure in the placement of each thread in the pattern. She was nearly done with the carrying cloth-an inch more, and then she would do the tassels. She had been afraid, at first, that using a pattern and colors so in vogue at the moment would tip off Kohaku, but she should have known that he would underestimate her own knowledge before he'd suspect her pregnancy. Though she couldn't be sure of Nahe, she knew that Kohaku would disapprove when he found out. She dreaded seeing his expression when she told him that she would be leaving and taking the lesser position of second wife to his superior at the Kulanui. He probably wouldn't even come to their ceremony, quiet though it would be. The thought of losing Kohaku, who had spent his whole life taking care of her, made her sad enough to weep, but it wasn't enough to change her mind. She knew that a second wife in Nahe's household would be little more than a servant for his first-but she thought it would be worth it, to raise her child with a veneer of respectability. And to be with Nahe. Emea's fingers stilled on the loom.

Tonight she would tell him. When she finished the carrying cloth, she would drape it over her shoulder like a sash and meet him by the steaming hot spring in a secluded corner of the fire shrine. She worked steadily for another three hours, until the early setting sun began to sink below the great volcano. A smile came unexpectedly to her face when she took the cloth from the loom-getting pregnant had been an accident, but she had rarely felt more excited in her life. The baby growing in her belly made her feel more anchored and powerful, filled with a magic all her own. She peeked inside Kohaku's room and saw that he had fallen asleep on his books. She smiled-she should have known that she wouldn't need to fabricate an excuse for him. He had stayed up all night studying yesterday. Since the rain of the past few days had turned the back streets into a mud wallow, she tied on her wooden platform clogs. Though she didn't truly need them, she also donned an oversized jacket and a rain hat- she hated the way men looked at her in the streets after sundown. Finally, she tied the carrying cloth gently around her shoulders. She fingered the blue tassels as she ran down the stairs.

Nahe was leaning carelessly against a cracked, ancient lintel that had become entwined with a creeping vine-tree whose drooping leaves caressed the top of his head. Emea took a moment to study him, reveling as much now as she did years ago in the set of his chin and his hard green eyes. She knew she would do anything for him, and the knowledge had almost ceased to scare her. The steam from the spring coiled upward lazily, condensed on the ceiling of the open pagoda, and dripped slowly back into the water. Nahe looked up suddenly, as though startled by some noise, and saw her. He nodded, but didn't smile.

"I thought you wouldn't come," he signed. "I thought you'd grown tired of me."

Emea took a tentative step toward him. "I could never ..."

"Then why have you avoided me for so long?"

She touched the edge of the cloth and fought for her resolve. "Nahe ... I have something to tell you."

He looked at her appraisingly. Before she could think better of it, she reached over and kissed him. She wondered if he seemed less enthusiastic than normal, but then forced the thought from her head. Eventually she broke it off and leaned against him, holding his arms around her belly as they stared at the nearly full moon. It looked swollen, glittering on the thousand gold and red sloped pagoda roofs of the fire shrine. New roofs were added every year when the old ones crumbled to dust-some said the shrine dated back to long before the spirit bindings, even before the founding of Essel. She waited as Nahe gently stroked her breasts and then went further down her body. She wondered if she had underestimated him, but seconds later his hands froze and she could feel his muscles tighten. He turned her around violently and Emea was shocked to see how angry he looked.

"You're pregnant?" he asked, his hand gestures even sloppier than normal.

Emea bit her tongue to keep back tears and nodded. He closed his eyes and she could see him force himself to calm down.

"It was an accident," she said, "but I was thinking that maybe ... I wouldn't mind being your second wife, Nahe. In fact, it would make me quite happy."

Nahe stared at her for a second and then started laughing. Though she couldn't hear the sound, the look on his face was enough to send shocks through her body.

"Emea, don't be ridiculous. My wife wouldn't hear of it-she owns the house and pays the servants. She might cut me off completely if I took a second wife."

Emea felt tears coursing down her cheeks, and she struggled to stop them. "But you're a famous professor. How could she own everything?"

He gave her a patronizing smile. "Dear, you don't understand anything about the world, do you? Professors get paid nothing, but my wife's fortune lets me live the life I want. I'm fond of you, but you can't expect me to give up all that to live with you and raise a child with barely any means at all. Perhaps it's time you stopped being so naive."