A shinca tree trunk glowed silver in the back, casting eerie clarity across the gathering. Since shinca could not be removed, the stone wall would have been built around it long ago; and in this room, the ceiling had been designed with arches to look like its branches. That should have been the front of the room. It had been, once. She and Xeref had spoken vows to each other in the warm aura of the tree, invoking the blessed names of Sirin and Eyn. She’d imagined their partnership just as invulnerable—the illusions of a seventeen-year-old child.
“Mother,” Aven whispered. “Mother.”
Selemei lifted her head. The Voice of Elinda was walking toward them with arms outstretched. One golden hand held a box of precious wood; the other a basket of silver wire heaped with yellow mourning silk.
“Corrim,” she murmured. “Let me stand. It’s all right—please, just don’t fall on the floor.” He crumpled sideways, gulping back tears, and she managed to get up, though her left leg felt numb from sitting too long on the metal bench.
“May the wounds of grief become the gifts of remembrance,” said the Voice.
Selemei took the box, and pulled a mourning scarf from the basket. “Thank you, Mother Elinda.” The children were supposed to receive their scarves next, but actually Aven took three because Pelli was gone and Corrim wouldn’t look up. While the Voice moved on to Enzyel and Brinx, Selemei helped Aven and Corrim get their scarves fastened around their arms, snug just below the elbow with the ends fluttering down.
Around her, other people began standing, but there was no hurry to go anywhere. She opened the glossy lid of the box. The sight of Xeref’s name engraved on the crystal spirit globe inside brought such a tide of grief it nearly overwhelmed her, and she snapped it shut.
“Lady Selemei,” said a man’s voice, heavy with tears. “May Xeref take his place among the stars, and may Heile and Elinda continue to bless you and your family.”
She looked up; it was Administrator Vull, holding young Pyaras by the hand. He offered her his other hand, and she took it.
“Thank you, Administrator.”
“Cousin, please. Or just Vull. We have too much in common to insist on formality, don’t we?”
Her breath hitched, and she closed her eyes to wrestle it back into control. “I suppose we do, Cousin.”
Vull nudged his son, and Pyaras said with admirable sobriety, “I’m very very very very sorry.” Then, impulsively, he hugged her.
Selemei stroked his head. “Thank you, Pyaras.” The boy watched her over his shoulder as his father led him away.
There was a nudge at Selemei’s elbow. She turned to find Imbati Ustin pressing a note into her hand. It read, Do you wish to attend the next Cabinet meeting?
She stared. “Ustin, now is really not a good time.”
“Mistress,” said Grivi. “I believe your daughter wishes to speak to you.”
Selemei turned back and took Enzyel in her arms. The girl was taller than her, now, and still growing—oh, gods help her, that was Xeref’s height, would she also inherit the defect that had led to his aneurysm?
“May Heile preserve you,” she said, fervently against her daughter’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, Mother, I think I should be asking you that question.”
“I—” Trying to answer that would release the flood. She shook her head. “I love you, Enzyel. I wish you could come for dinner sometimes.”
“I’ll be at the dinner tonight. I’ll try to come by more. And—” Enzyel leaned so close Selemei was enveloped in her cloud of curls. Her daughter’s sweet breath warmed her ear. “I’ve got good news.”
Oh, sweet Elinda, no…
“I’m pregnant.”
Selemei’s hands fisted involuntarily. She tried to say congratulations, but fear had cramped her guts, and what came out sounded like a sob. She fought to control herself while Enzyel’s gentle hand caressed the back of her neck. “You’ll—” Selemei gulped another breath. “You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you. Don’t just rely on your Imbati. See a Kartunnen doctor at the Medical Center as well.”
“I will, Mother, I promise.”
Grivi murmured behind her, “Do you wish to retire, Mistress?”
Selemei nodded. She stepped carefully toward the aisle, holding Grivi’s hand across the bench that had separated them. A man she didn’t know stood half blocking her exit into the aisle, watching her.
“Excuse me,” said Selemei.
“My condolences on your loss, Lady Selemei,” the man said. “I’m Silvin of the Second Family.”
“Thank you.”
“But, let’s face it, it could have been worse.”
She could only blink at him.
“It could have been you. Think of the tragedy, if your great gift had been lost to the Race! You must give your Family Council my name when they suggest a new partnership for you.”
Disgust knocked her back a step. Before the man uttered another word, Grivi appeared between them, looking directly into his face.
“You will excuse us, sir,” he said, his deep growl all the more disturbing for its utter calm.
The man and his servant quickly backed off and vanished in the crowd rather than risk a physical confrontation. Grivi’s shoulders rose once with a deep breath, and then he offered Selemei his hand again.
“Bless you, Grivi,” she whispered.
“I am here to protect you, Mistress.”
“Selemei! Cousin, are you all right?” That was Lady Keir, who hurried up and embraced her. “I saw what happened…”
She grimaced. “Fine enough.”
Arbiter Erex caught up with his partner a moment later; he fanned his chest a little, breathing fast. “Cousin, I’m so sorry.” He gestured to the compact Imbati woman behind him. “Please allow my Kuarmei to help escort you home.”
Selemei shook her head. “It’s kind of you, but I’ll be fine. I have Grivi and Ustin with me, and I’ll have Verrid too, soon enough.” She began walking toward the exit.
“If you’re sure,” Erex said. “That was disgraceful behavior. In fact, my Kuarmei got his name; we’ll be reporting him to his Family Council. Rest assured, you won’t have to consider tunnel-hounds like him when the time comes. Someone like Administrator Vull would be a much better match.”
Selemei almost stumbled. She gritted her teeth and clung to Grivi to keep going. “Come, children,” she said. “It’s time to go home.” She would have run if she could. Her eyes burned, and she scarcely raised her eyes from the floor until they had collected Pelli and Verrid and were all the way downstairs, safe in their home vestibule, the front door shut and locked and the children dismissed to the care of the Household. “Where’s Ustin?”
The tall Imbati woman presented herself with a bow.
Selemei took a deep breath. “Imbati Ustin, I know you’ve been concerned about securing lodging while you’re considering new employment inquiries. Please feel welcome to stay in our Household.”
“Thank you, Mistress.”
“And in return, I’d like you to make certain I attend the next Cabinet meeting.”
They were playing kuarjos, or trying to. You had to do something once the cousins, friends, and well-wishers left—and it helped her ignore the piles of condolence gifts that filled their private drawing room. Selemei sat across from Aven, who occasionally hiccupped to hold back tears but still had grasped the rules pretty well. When Selemei picked up an emerald-helmed warrior, Pelli snatched it from her hand and ran away giggling.