The commander at the head of the procession was also an out-lander. He was magnificently dressed in a knee-length silk jacket
sewn from silk of such a surpassingly delicate green, like sea foam under the evening sky, that Mistress Karanna actually wept. Or maybe she wept because he and all the soldiers were armed, and with his sword swinging at his side he climbed right up onto the porch as if no one could stop him from doing so, which no one could.
The widow made no courtesy, nor did she cower. She greeted him coolly, and anyone with eyes could see they knew each other.
This was not to be a happy meeting.
At first it seemed the point of contention was the baby, and that was a wonder, indeed, for anyone who had seen the infant — and most everyone in town had peeped into the emporium or porch over the last three months to take a look — must instantly recognize that the tiny face bore some resemblance to that of the Qin soldiers. Was her nose destined to grow to something like his? An unfortunate fate for a girl, perhaps, but when the widow allowed him to hold the child and examine it, which he did very carefully, one might begin to suspect she was not, after all, a widow. That he might in fact be the father of the precious darling. That the point of contention was not the child, although clearly there was something about the child which mattered deeply to him, but the woman herself.
Anyone with eyes or ears could see what kind of tale this was. Every variation on this song has been sung down the years. She retreats; he pursues. He desires; she refuses. A slave buys herself free, but the master cannot bear to let her go.
What then?
The siege lasted one full month.
He was a persuasive and extremely powerful man, a reasonable, intelligent man, who consulted with councils from villages and towns all over Mar, presided over assizes, and discussed certain efficiencies of reorganization that were proving successful in other regions of the Hundred. He examined the local varieties of wool and rice, seven times rode out hunting with local men, and once took a canoe to Bronze Hall to meet with its recalcitrant marshal, an expedition he did not repeat. All that besides the mornings or afternoons he spent dandling the baby while courting the woman, although it was noted that she never actually invited him to visit nor was he ever, for even one instant, alone with her behind closed doors.
By the end of the month many of the locals had come to
cordially loathe his well-behaved and standoffish soldiers especially as dozens of local youths began to wear their hair up in topknots and certain local girls got over their shyness enough to flirt with an enthusiasm that their disgusted elders put down to the novelty of the soldiers and the heavy strings of coin they had to spread around. One Qin tailman fell so desperately in love with a chance-met local girl that he persuaded her to ride away with him when, at last, the commander had to admit defeat and leave. He had other regions to oversee, other councils to consult with, other assizes to administer.
'Other wives,' the married sister was overheard to say tartly to her husband, 'to impregnate.'
The next day the hieros packed up and left with a dozen of her hierodules and kalos.
One month later a new and quite young hieros sauntered into town in company with a pair of middle-aged outlanders and their wagon.
'Do you think he'll come back, Priya?' Mai asked three days later as they sat on pillows and sipped tea on the porch. Dusk hovered but hadn't yet fallen. 'I don't know if I could bear to go through that again. Do you know how badly I wanted to have sex with him?'
'Why didn't you?' asked Priya. The baby was asleep on her lap, snoring softly with a bit of congestion, feet and hands twitching with baby dreams.
Mai reached across the table to touch her hand. 'Do you know, Priya, it wasn't until I came here that I realized that when I was Anji's wife, I was always under guard. Did you and O'eki choose a house yet? Maybe that cottage by the lake you were talking about? It was very, ah, scenic'
Priya laughed. 'You are not a country girl, are you? Anyhow, there were too many mosks. We were thinking of something in town. There's a tiny compound just down this street and around the corner.'
'I know the one! Perfectly respectable. Although it has no porch as fine as this one.'
This porch wrapped the main house, which was set at exactly the right height and position to command a spectacular view over the bay, whose sunset-gilded waters were darkening fast as twilight rushed over them. A pleasant breeze blew up from the shore. The port-side neighborhoods down at the strand were lively as the night market set up, but here compounds were settling in for the night, a
few people hurrying home with lantern in hand. Their street was empty except for a dog purposefully trotting along, as if leashed by someone they could not see. The dog loped out of sight. Song drifted up from the streets below.
Inside, Miravia shrieked with laughter, and Keshad swore angrily and, evidently, stomped out of the room.
'The poor lad is jealous because Miravia gets along so well with his sister,' remarked Priya as Miravia and Zubaidit began giggling. 'Imagine what it must be like to struggle for so long against seemingly insurmountable obstacles only to get exactly what you want.'
'Ah.' Mai shut her eyes.
'Oh, Mai, what a foolish thing for me to say.'
'Neh, never mind it.' She opened her eyes and drained her cup. 'See. No tears. Anyway, Kesh didn't exactly get everything as he wished it. Zubaidit still serves the temple.'
'I would say she serves the goddess. It may not be exactly the same thing. For I would call it very interesting indeed that she — of all people — has corne here — of all places — just now — of all times.'
Mai lifted the pot. 'She told me she requested service at this temple so she could be near her brother. More tea, Priya?' She poured gracefully and lifted the lid to see how much was left and, after consideration, decided to let it be as it was. 'I'm so glad you've come, and come to stay. Yet I think of Atani, left alone there.'
'He's well taken care of. The women spoil him. Commander Anji loves the boy, Mai.'
She watched the face of her sleeping daughter wistfully. 'That will have to be enough, won't it?'
A rowdy group of twenty or thirty reeves surged into view, singing raucously but in remarkable harmony.
'Mai!' Peddonon stumbled on the lower step as he leaped onto the porch. 'The hells! My knee!'
'You're drunk.'
The baby, startled, woke and began to bawl lustily.
'I beg you, verea, let her uncle take her! She's crying because she misses me!'
Peddonon swept her out of Priya's lap and began to dance and sing along the porch as Mai winced, hoping he wouldn't topple off the edge, but in fact he wasn't drunk at all; he was just pretending as reeves tramped onto the porch and made a great deal of noise with a great swirl of currents during which Priya recovered the baby and Miravia brought out cordial and a tray of cups and
Peddonon caught Mai's arm within the concealment of all the commotion and pulled her back through the house to the quiet courtyard and garden that, in the Mar style, ran the length of the back of the house.
'How a prim Ri Amarah woman like Miravia came to develop such a crude sense of humor I will never figure,' said Zubaidit, stepping out of the shadows under a towering paradom bush.
Mai yelped, both hands slapped to her breast. 'Eihi! You startled me, sneaking up like that.'
'I like that rat screen in the public room,' added Zubaidit, 'but I feel I have seen it before.'
'I used to own it, but it was sold away. I tracked it down specially and had it carted here.'