The Totem-Maker (part forty-nine)

The Totem-Maker

Chapter Six

A First Road

(part forty-nine)

“My hegnedre carried this, and was told by a woman there, Larsa, do you know her…? Yes. That Lom named you to have what was his at death. We learned, so, that he was dead. In that house Lom was a fear to speak of, and my brother was turned away by the master. We had seen ravens for three days. We at last gave them corn, and they flew.”

Her hegnedre, our word for the younger of two elder brothers, had had no difficulty pursing me; our army crossed the land with a great noise, leaving tales of hardship. But how breath-catching to know Lom’s gift had willed its travels within the circle of his family!

To say its farewell to each. “Was it your mother who collected her charms upon this skin?”

At a nod, I spoke on: “We will pray together for her soul’s comfort. Lom’s soul on its wanderings soon will be guided to her feet, and blessings beyond count.” I folded the fleece, woolen side out, patted it with the firm flat of my hand. “I am so pleased to have seen this, and to have been thought of by your kind hearts. But if the god counsels me your need is greater…”

“Oh! I pray he does not!”

I confess it, I’d had the small ruse in mind, that I, with my secret wealth, would not take Dessa Lom’s. I would tell her the god forbade it. I saw that for her the tapestry portended harm and death. Her family treasure could not be cured of omen, and so she would have it in holy hands.

I felt now it would be many days before I tried Lotoq’s patience again.

The dining porch I entered alone, Jute fading at the door.

The general pulled flesh from a bird and glanced up. Nothing else. I ventured seating myself on the steps below his couch.

A prompt servant brought wine and a bird of my own. They had filled its cavity with spiced meat of some other creature—snake, this tasted. (But in our land we ate snake quite often.) I wondered if I would have a loaf, or any small thing for a morning meal, to carry to my room.

No one greeted me, or named himself to me. A courtier was wanted for the tasks of placing people and making each feel his role assigned, the words familiar. Courtiers are not found at border forts. For soldierly reasons, the men disliked shyness in themselves, blamed me; while, knowing I’d arrived at the Prince’s pleasure, they felt constrained to force such thoughts away. They chewed with a rare concentration and wished the evening done.

I did too. Hiding my smile, that I might tell great lies of invented proprieties, say I must have sweets and music. The Prince had instructed I was to be accommodated, allowed to do my work—a thing only I understood.

53

A First Road

The Totem-Maker (part fifty)

(2018, Stephanie Foster)