The Woven End Read online

  She licked her lips and shifted on her small feet as she tapped each of her fingertips to her thumbs. He was crouched down, his body facing away from her, so she lay on his leather coated back and gave him a hug, memorized his smell, and looked at his soul one last time. He managed to bring a hand around to touch one of hers.

  Sidita stood up, smiled a very small smile, and returned to her family. She was smitten.

  Sidita looked back at the boatman as they walked away, but the boatman never looked back at her.

  #

  Color, noise, art, and life poured out of the soul of Nidita. Ama demanded that her children take hold to the back of her tunic as they walked. She took the baby out of Sidita's care and held her tightly to her chest. She eyed everyone with suspicion, trying to look ferocious. A few men passed her with obvious looks of interest, and several women pointed and laughed, but no one accosted them.

  Along with singers and musicians, Sidita noticed several women in scanty clothing who beckoned to men who passed by. Smoked poured from the glassless windows of noisy pubs on every street.

  “Isn't there one place that might have a good reputation among decent folks?” Ama complained under her breath. A book store! That was the best place she had seen so far.

  She took her brood in to speak with the owner. He greeted her with a curious smile.

  “I need to know how to reach the governor's mansion,” she said.

  “Straight down this road. You can take a wagon through the country—you won't want to walk that far— and you'll see it without a problem. The driver will see it if you don't.”

  “He's that far? In the country? What an inconvenience to keep the governor from the water and city.”

  “He doesn't mind, they say. He prefers country. Native of Bos.”

  The man smiled politely, but he fidgeted with papers and antsy eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said as she turned to leave. She stopped and looked back to ask, “Cova, son of Neeled still holds this position, does he not?”

  “He does.”

  She nodded and hurried her children out the door.

  Just as the man in the book store told them, a few wagons were parked in a line on the outskirts of the city beside a copse of Susu trees. A trotter pulled a wagon along the main road into the countryside as ama approached another. Ama inquired as to the fee and learned that the governor funded countryside wagon rides himself.

  The driver explained, “The Sakatians would not fund it. It benefits the island, he says.”

  The family climbed into the wagon, and with a light snap of the reins, the wagon rumbled down the road.

  No village was the same as another. It was as though the clouds rained paint by the Great Soul's orders, for there was not a single dull rock. Each village had its own brightly colored murals, reliefs, mosaics, statues and landmarks.

  Ama took lunch from her bag and doled it out to the children. She was hungry but too nervous to swallow anything.

  The Star hung directly above them by the time the mansion came into view. The mansion, built of gray rock, appeared that it could have been chiseled from a mountain. It stood prominently understated in stark contrast to the rest of the Sakatian countryside.

  “Is that the governor's mansion?” Ama called out to the driver.

  He turned his face to his shoulder. “Yes,” he replied.

  “That is where we must stop.”

  “They only have tours in early star rise hours on certain days.”

  Ama sat up straight and lifted her chin. “I have no interest in tours, thank you,”

  “Shall I wait for you?”

  Ama hesitated but answered in the negative.

  The driver broke into a happy whistling tune as they finished their journey on the colorful country road. He left them at the gate, wished them good luck on their purpose, and drove away.

  The sight of the dark, pointed, wrought iron gate made Cothos cry. Sidita turned her attention to soothing him while ama stepped forward to investigate. She tugged at the locked gate and pressed her face into the bars, scanning the well tended property for signs of life.

  “Someone will have to come out ere long,” she said.

  Just then, an old man, with a peppery gray beard and a straw hat and dirty tunic, waddled into view only a foot away from the gate. He drew back at the sight of the bedraggled, weary family and froze in the middle of the drive. He pushed his hat back with a dirty hand and stared at them.

  “Good man!” Ama cried out, taking hold of the bars of the gate and pressing her face between them. “I must see the governor. Will you get me an audience with the governor?”

  The old man stared at her in disbelief and shook his head.

  “Please, I beg of you. He's our only hope. Send someone to me who can permit me access to the governor.”

  He tapped his chest with the spade in his hand. “I'm just the gardener. I haven't the right to ask for favors from the people who work in the mansion, woman.”

  “Surely you—”

  “Go away, woman. Your effort here will be fruitless without an appointment.”

  The old man waddled away, and ama cried out, "Fruitless! Your wife is fruitless and so is your soul!" She shook the gate with a furious growl.

  The old man passed by her sight several times over the course of the day, though he took great pains to circumvent the madwoman at the gate.

  Complaints of hunger arose as the Star descended below the horizon. Sidita kept her mouth shut, but the others had little restraint when it came to this particular discomfort. Ama scrunched the bag up and pulled it off of the remaining bread and carelessly handed it over for Sidita to dole out. Ama refused to leave her post.

  “Ama.” Sidita ventured. “Might you whisper to him in the Sálverøld?”

  Ama waved the idea off. “Nay… Nay, I won’t. I have my reasons.”

  Dusk passed with the clicking, fluttering, and swishing of bugs and small animals, but no human came within earshot. Stars faded into the blackening sky as the younger children fell asleep huddled together under Sidita’s arms. The darkness of the countryside lay heavily on them. Sidita tried to ignore the wide open blackness behind her to focus on the lamp lit rooms of the mansion and a few lanterns swinging somewhere ahead on the drive.

  The thought struck Sidita that, being in the country, wild animals might be a threat. With that thought, the pleasantly balmy Star fall became an oppressive, wet, hot blanket that could not be escaped. She almost heard the darkness yipping and yelping, and watched it grow sharp, golden eyes. A flash of panic tore from her heart to her limbs, and she resisted the urge to throw herself agains the gate and scream for help. Just in time, voices and quiet clunking brought ama to her feet. Several minutes passed before the heavy clopping of trotter hooves came their way. The little ones awoke, and Sidita breathed with relief.

  Ama stood up and waved her arms to the stablemen preceding the carriage. They stopped, unsure of what to do with her. One stableman ran back to bring the carriage to a halt and spoke with the driver who, after repeating the word “woman?” with no little incredulity, promptly hopped out of his seat and marched forward to the gate, a lantern in his hand.

  “Woman, what are you doing here? Go home. Where is your husband?”

  Ama's voice trembled with threatening tears

  “I came to see the governor. I have to see him. It's life or death for my family.”

  “There are judges in courts, and law enforcers in the city for your problems. The governor doesn't have time to deal with all the perceived injustices of every last Sakatian woman. Speak to your husband. He will take care of you, or put you in your place, most likely. The king is dead. We have more important matters to tend to.”

  The announcement of the king's death shocked the family, but ama persisted. Food and shelter for her family were the first priority.

  She thrust her chin out and squared her shoulders. “I am no Sakatian woman, and I have no husband. He is unraveling as w
e speak. I must—”

  “Curse the stars! Why are we stopped?" Someone growled from within the carriage. A head, whose features were undistinguishable in the shadow of Star fall, thrust its form and floppy mop of curls out the window.

  The driver kept his eyes fixed on ama. “A woman,” he called back.

  “A woman?” The man in the carriage opened the door for himself and stepped down to the ground. He strode to the gate, mumbling the whole way.

  “I'm glad we have such a firm grip on my sex. I've heard the word ‘woman’ more times than I will bother to count,” ama spat.

  “Women— unraveled before they die. By the stars—I say—the king is dead, and some woman is keeping me from the palace's silk sheets. May the stars fall upon her—”

  At the gate, the man stopped and fell silent. His mouth fell open. The driver's lantern luminated ama's face.

  “My soul,” the man breathed, “Melee?”

  “Governor, I need your help. I pray you, look past our differences and history. I need your help for me and my family. It is of the utmost urgency. Gova, son of Neeled, is dead.”

  The governor closed his mouth, swallowed, and nodded. He turned to his driver.

  “Send word by the best boatman available that an unexpected emergency of great import has arisen, and I will arrive at the palace tomorrow,” he ordered. “Apologize with dignity, but profusely.”

  The driver nodded and returned to his carriage. Cova unlocked and swung open the gate. With a polite gesture of invitation, he ushered the family onto his property as the carriage left without its intended passenger.

  “A lantern!” He barked to the stablemen.

  One of the gawking men gave his lantern to the governor. The governor took it and led the family up to his mansion where he opened the door and brought them in.

  In the stone hallway, a servant was snuffing out candles set in mirrored sconces. The gentle light of the candlelight fell away as they entered an enormous room with a high coffered ceiling.

  An unlit chandelier hung above them, but lamps provided a low, pleasant glow. They revealed just enough of the room to invoke a sense of awe in the luxury deprived children. In the center of the room, atop the rosy brown wood, lay a Sakatian rug twice the size of their Bositian hut. Enormous wooden doors stood tall ahead of them. As is the way of Sakat, nothing could be left alone, for the doors were adorned with painted green vines, white flowers outlined with gold, and burgundy berries. Sidita was surprised that the inside of the home was so warm and wooden.

  Tallow candles emitted a warm glow on the white walls and the gilt framed works of art that adorned them.

  To the right, polished banisters lined the wide staircase to the the second floor. To the left was an organiom of black wrought iron, clean white buttons and crystal rings, positioned by a window.

  Until now, Sidita had only heard a description of an organiom. The frame of wrought iron curved into an almost-complete circle with a small gap remaining for a musician to slip inside. Long strands of thin metal, held by the iron frame, fanned out like wings, waited to be struck by the small hammers connected to the white buttons. When a musician pressed the buttons, the resultant sound was a musically aesthetic metallic note. The crystal rings were played with an array of pedals at the feet. Thick, flesh-like pads circled the rings as the musician depressed a pedal.

  The governor, self conscious and a bit afraid, stood in front of the family with clasped hands. He noticed that Sidita observed the organiom and remarked, “It makes beautiful music, but I’m afraid I’m not slender enough to fit in there.” He smiled.

  In this light, Sidita noticed the governor bore a striking resemblance to her apa. He was taller, fatter, broader, and appeared to be several stars younger. Curly black hair swathed his large head, and it was matched by dense, dark eyebrows over long-lashed eyes. A closely trimmed moustache and beard encircled his full pink lips.

  The immediate impression was that he was a handsome man, mostly because of the blend of dignity and gentleness he possessed. He revealed his beauty through the subtle nervous smiles and humility of demeanor towards the family before him. His red and black tunic, satin pants and black leather shoes left no doubt that he was on his way to a grand event, and yet he behaved toward them as if no inconvenience existed.

  “You look well, Melee. The stars have been gracious to you. Sit, sit, please.” The governor gestured to a dainty, cushioned chair near the organiom.

  “The stars haven't touched you at all, governor. I must speak with you privately,” Ama said.

  “Of course. Right. The children?”

  “They will stay, quietly. They are well behaved.”

  The governor took ama beyond the painted doors and closed them.

  “What is this place? Who is that man?” Tapa whispered.

  Sidita answered, “This is a mansion. He is the governor.”

  “He looks like apa!”

  “I know. Never you mind it,” Sidita hissed. “Ama will be hurt if you say it aloud.”

  Several minutes later, the doorknob turned and ama emerged with the governor. The governor did not linger with them, instead, he hurried away and disappeared into another room. Ama beckoned for the children to stand by her side. Though they all longed for an explanation, none came.

  Tapa finally let loose.

  “Ama! Who is that man? Why are we here?”

  Sidita nudged Tapa and shot her a sharp warning glance.

  “In time,” ama answered.

  The governor returned with a white clad servant carrying a candle. The servant nodded.

  “Follow me, please.”

  They followed the servant up the staircase and down a hall of doors. The servant took a key from among the many jingling on her belt and unlocked a door, handed the key to Ama, and went about lighting every lamp and candle in the room.

  “We will have fresh candles and oil, and whatever you or the master desire. I'll return shortly.”

  The servant walked back the way she came.

  Everyone stopped to look on the room they were given. A fine stone fireplace, Sakatian artistry in every tapestry, rug, curtain, and blanket. At the foot of the dark wood bed was a large chest with great metal clasps.

  Ama took the baby from Sidita and sat down to nurse her.

  “Dig out your night gowns,” she ordered.

  Sidita undressed and slid her night gown on over her head before helping the two little ones.

  “Cothos, Tosel, you stand there gawking? Come obey ama,” she called out, shaking their gowns at them. The pair came to her and put their gowns on.

  Servants set out a meal of cold meat, cheese, and small ale. While the family ate, the servants brought water for them to wash their faces and delivered a clean chamber pot.

  With full bellies, the family crawled into the luxurious, warm bed. They fit perfectly.

  Sidita stared at ama's face, partially illuminated in a sliver of moonlight. Ama shifted her body frequently, sniffled on occasion, and her face contorted with grief for several seconds before Sidita spoke.

  “Ama—” Sidita began.

  Ama cut her off. “All you need to know is that we are cared for and safe.”

  “How do the stars unravel us?”

  Ama stammered for a moment, then she answered, “It is like an old song that I am sure you have heard me sing.”

  Ama's voice rang through the darkness like a meek woman in a room of gawking men.

  “We pass without alarm

  For we know the Great Soul whispers its mind to the stars.

  It is in the mind it loves, in the mind it knows,

  And in the mind it holds all of us.”

  Sidita sighed. She lay awake long after the others fell asleep, thinking about apa and wondering what life would be like without him…what ama would be like without him.

  Chapter Three

  Cova adjusted his tunic, stroked his beard and fluffed his hair. He nodded to the man at the door. The man nodded i
n return and entered the great doors without Cova. Cova stood outside the door, fidgeting with his clothes.

  “Governor Cova, son of Neeled, Your Highness.”

  “Let him enter.”

  The new King, not yet crowned, sat on the throne in royal dress. The queen amar sat at his side, properly erect and grim.

  Cova entered the great polished room and bowed to the king, he proceeded through the hall and bowed once more at the foot of the steps.

  The king nodded.

  “What was your sudden crisis, governor?” The king asked.

  “Family, sire. As I was departing for Tici, family turned up at my door. They were in great need. Life or death matters.”

  “I remember you telling me of your banishment from the company of Alchemines. Your family did not come to your aid or show you even the slightest pity. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, sire, your memory is excellent. The family I speak of is by marriage. My brother began to unravel only a Star rise ago. He left a widow and five young children.”

  The king frowned. “I see. A noble reason that grants you full pardon for your tardiness in attendance.”

  “Thank you, sire.” Cova bowed his head. “My heartfelt condolences to you and your family at this time. Sakat weeps with you. The silver sky has become the brighter for your apar’s departure.”

  He bowed once more and joined the other two governors.

  A little man in a blue tunic stepped forward.

  The meeting that followed detailed the way in which King Trimos began his unraveling and the governor’s part in the ceremony at Star fall.

  “A fast of supper is proclaimed until the funeral procession and coronation are accomplished,” said the little man. “After which, we will break this fast in celebration of our new king.”

  So was the length of official mourning among royalty.

  The little man dismissed Cova to the royal tailor for a speedy measurement and an even speedier alteration to the clothing assigned to him.

  #

  “King Trimos certainly lived up to his shading, wouldn't you say so?” Cova asked the governors as he tied his belt several different ways before a mirror.

  “You would know, I suppose,” Oma, the governor of Bos, said.