Angel of Storms (Millennium's Rule, #2)(90)
Her companions headed towards one of the canopies, where a family were lounging on thick mattresses covered with blankets–probably the bedding from their wagons as it was unlikely Travellers had room for extra padding for the purpose. Some of the women and a few of the men were stitching brightly coloured clothing. After introductions, a conversation started that was too fast for Rielle to keep up with. Hari leaned close to explain, gesturing to a slim young woman.
“Sadeer will be married tomorrow night. A match marriage.”
“What is that?”
“Their parents arranged it.” At Rielle’s frown, Hari patted her arm reassuringly. “The pair want to marry. They met at three Gatherings before they said yes.”
Thinking of Baluka’s three steps to the proposal, Rielle looked at Sadeer’s wrists. Sure enough, a braid was knotted around it. A worn, much-repaired braid.
“We say ‘good fortune’ to those who are to be married,” Hari said, then raised her voice and looked at the young woman. “Good fortune to you.”
Rielle repeated the phrase. Sadeer bowed her head shyly and smiled. She’s younger than I was when I met Izare, Rielle mused. How can she really know the man her parents have chosen if she has only spent a few handfuls of days with him each cycle, for three cycles? But the number of days Rielle had been with the Travellers might not add up to much more, and she was contemplating marrying Baluka. She touched the braid at her wrist and looked back towards the wagons.
Jikari said something about Baluka and as Rielle turned to look at her she realised that all eyes were looking her way now. She read curiosity and surprise, and caught a few quickly concealed frowns. Guessing why, she turned to her companions.
“You told them…?” The grin she got in reply confirmed it. “I haven’t said yes, yet,” she objected. A few Travellers chuckled.
“Do you have a braid to give him?” an old woman nearby asked.
Rielle frowned as she remembered she hadn’t. She’d intended to ask Hari or Jikari for the materials. It wasn’t a simple braid, but some kind of interwoven rope, so she’d need instruction.
“Sit.” The old woman patted the mattress next to her. “I will teach you.”
Hari nodded. “Go. Her name is Marta.”
Moving to the space beside the old woman, Rielle watched as Marta produced a notched disk from the bottom of her basket of stitching materials. Cutting several strands of the coloured thread the Travellers used to embellish their clothing, Marta tied them together, pushed the knot through a hole in the middle of the disk and attached a weight to it. She demonstrated how to move the threads from notch to notch to weave them around each other, then handed the disk to Rielle.
Though she followed the woman’s instructions correctly, Rielle’s braid was loose and uneven at first, but as she worked she soon learned how tight to twist the threads, and by the end of the braid Marta was nodding approvingly. The woman removed the braid from the disk, chopped off the wobbly braiding at the start and tied the ends. She wrapped it around her own wrist, showing that it was still long enough to tie.
She probably made the threads a little longer, expecting me to mess it up at the beginning, Rielle mused. Looking at the braid around Sadeer’s wrist and then her own, Rielle saw that the young woman’s was thicker and the weave more elaborate. I have made the beginner’s version. Well, I am a beginner. A beginner at being a Traveller.
Not an absolute beginner, however. She had begun to grasp the language and learn their ways. It had been difficult at first, and still was at times, but it was slowly growing easier. The thought of starting all over in a new place, whether in her home world or not, seemed too great a challenge to face again. Surely she could not be lucky enough to find people as nice to settle among. Looking around, she noticed that Ankari had joined the group while she had been braiding. The woman smiled back at Rielle. Her eyes dropped to the braid and, though Rielle might have imagined it, her smile gained a knowing smugness.
“Yaikha’s family is here!” Hari exclaimed, rising to her knees to look over everyone’s head. Ankari leapt to her feet and hurried away. Hari followed.
As Jikari stood up, Rielle followed suit. The young woman beckoned and led Rielle out from under the canopy, back towards the edge of the plateau. Ankari and Hari stood there, watching another line of wagons trundling along the path from the arrival place.
“Baluka’s sister, Injiki, married Yaikha’s son, Hakhel, three cycles ago,” Jikari explained. “She’s had two children already, both boys.”
“Women always leave the family to join the husbands?” Rielle asked.
Jikari nodded. “Unless a leader has only daughters and no strong nephews.” She slowed as they neared Ankari and Hari, and glanced at Rielle. “Uouma, Yaikha’s wife, was an outsider too. You should talk to her.”
The lead wagon had descended below sight, but as Rielle stepped up to the edge of the plateau she caught sight of it again, following a path that would take it past the plateau and up to the crest of an empty hill. Two women had left the wagons and were walking toward Haki and Rielle, one younger and with the stature and colouring of a Traveller, the other older but with the darkest skin Rielle had ever seen. Both were carrying small children, one just an infant.
The women were breathless by the time they had climbed the steep slope, panting out greetings then exchanging fond hugs. Looking closely at Baluka’s sister, Rielle recognised a familiar shape of eye and nose. She hadn’t realised it until now, but Ankari had the kind of face that looked perpetually cheerful, and her daughter did, too. Happy eyes, she mused. And dimples that remain even when they’re not smiling. She had a sudden itch to draw them and compare.