What would be the right dance for the god of wisdom? Something measured. I dip my head. My arms describe slow circles in the air. I turn, then twist from the waist. There are many twists and turns in the thoughts of the wise.
Olus is smiling with such pleasure that I almost stumble. When I finish dancing, we leave Neme behind and fly over forests and meadows and streams before the sun sets. Everywhere, I compare Akka with Hyte. Hyte has wider roads and flatter land for planting. But Akka has rushing rivers, and the mountains are grand.
Over the next twelve days Olus takes me to every fine viewpoint he knows. I watch as his winds make cloud shadows slide across the hills. We visit the ruins of ancient Akkan temples to unknown gods. We pass two days at the falls of Zago, talking, talking, talking—about what we think, what we feel, what’s happened to us. But never about what will happen.
The twelfth day we spend riding a single-masted boat down one of Akka’s rivers. The banks glide by, while I clasp Olus’s hand and try to hold back the minutes. I want the river to stop flowing. The sail can continue to billow, but we must not move. Olus’s winds must blow time itself away and stretch this moment into eternity.
57
OLUS
THE AIR IS COLD with the promise of autumn when I awaken at dawn on our last day but one. We are back at the falls of Zago. Kezi is several feet from me, still asleep in her wind cocoon, lying on her side, her hand cradling her cheek.
I imagine her lying this way on the temple altar in Hyte, lulled to sleep by prayer chants.
Stop! She will become immortal.
Before anything else, we will need breakfast, and the Zago teems with trout. I make a fire. In a few minutes a big fish wriggles in my arms. I drop it on the riverbank and take out my knife. While the fish flops and flails, I stand over it. My appetite vanishes, and my arm trembles until I drop the knife.
Kastu whinnies.
Kezi leans on her elbow and watches me throw the fish back into the river.
“I didn’t like the looks of it,” I say. “We can breakfast on the remains of dinner.” I douse the fire.
My fetching wind brings a loaded platter out from the cave behind the falls, where we stored yesterday’s food. It sets the platter down between the two stone chairs.
“Olus, how many gods and goddesses are there?”
“You will be the forty-eighth.” I recite, “Abdi, Adda, Addi, Aham, Ahum, Ahur . . . A is the most popular first letter.”
“What is Abdi the god of?” She stretches.
“Cleanliness and laundry.”
“A god for those! Is there a god for slipper- and sandal-making?” She sits up. “I’m glad you’re not the god of chicken plucking!”
I’m a little offended. “There is Jawa, the goddess of fowl, who gave mortals chicken plucking. Doesn’t Admat oversee these matters too?”
“I never thought about Admat and everyday things. Only Admat and war or drought or flood or illness.” She smiles wistfully. “And Mati, Pado, Aunt Fedo, and me.” She stands and tries to smooth out her wrinkled tunic. Looking down, she says, “Are all the goddesses beautiful?”
“Not Cala.”
“I forgot who she is.”
“The goddess of wild and tame animals, who used to be mortal. Before she became a goddess, her cheek was raked by a lion. She has a scar.”
Kezi squats and splashes river water on her face. “The rest are all beautiful,” she says flatly.
“Ursag is almost as tall as a giraffe. I don’t know how Puru looks.”
“They’re not goddesses.” She straightens and combs her hair back with her fingers.
I’ve been saying the wrong things. “You’re beautiful.” I hug her and kiss her hair. And I send my clever wind to Enshi Rock.
“Thank you.” She breaks away and goes to the platter. “What would you like?”
“I’m not hungry.”
She nods. After loading her plate with everything we have left, she sits in one of the stone chairs and eats with obvious relish. I drop into the other chair and watch her—her hands, her face, the dancer’s way she sits—gathered, as if she could spring into a graceful leap at any moment.
Finally the last morsel is gone. She says, “Don’t look!”
I obey, although it doesn’t matter if I look or not. I know she’s licking drops of honey off her plate.
“There. You can look.” She puts her plate down on the grass at her feet and stands.
A parcel wrapped in burlap lands with a thump on the chair she just rose from.
“What’s this?”
My nimble wind unwraps the burlap. I’m smiling.
“Oh!”
A tunic for her is on top, mine underneath. She runs her hand over hers, then unfolds it. “Is that gold thread?” She points to the embroidery at the hem.
I stand. “Probably.” My clever wind is very clever.
She picks up the sash.
“Green for good fortune,” I say.
She blushes. “Green for marriage.” She lays her tunic down on the other stone chair and picks mine up. “It’s the color of iron. The exact color. You have a dye this color on Enshi Rock?”
“We must. Ahum is the god of cloth and weaving.” There is green in my tunic, too, along the hem.
She holds my tunic up against me. “Splendid.”
While she’s so close, I kiss her.
“Olus . . .” She turns and places the tunic carefully atop the burlap. “If I die—”
“Shh!”
“Let me talk. If I die, keep looking for Admat.”
“I will.” If she dies, I’ll have my revenge on Admat, if I find him, and I’ll certainly take revenge on his priests.
“Comfort my parents and Aunt Fedo. Watch over them.”
I choose my words so that I promise nothing. “You mustn’t worry.” I may not have the compassion to comfort her family. I may revenge myself on them, too.
“When I’m dead, I may not be able to think of you. There—”
“Stop!”
“If I die . . .” She touches my cheek. “If I die . . .”
I kiss her and taste the honey on her breath.
“I love you now,” she says. “I love you immortally, even if I die and there is nothing left of me.”
58
KEZI
I WAS SO BRAVE at breakfast! And now, flying on Kastu to Enshi Rock, I am terrified. I may vomit my courage down over Akka.
Admat, I pray, wherever you may be, if you may be, let me live. Let me pass the gods’ test. I didn’t want to be immortal before. I know I said so. But I want to live, so please forget my earlier wish and let me become immortal.
I rest my head on Kastu’s neck. Kastu, give me horse valor. Let me do my best.
Olus is next to me on one of his winds. I looked at him once but not again. His face was stamped with worry.
We are high above Akka. This time clouds don’t close in. Olus’s winds do not fail him. Enshi Rock grows until it blocks out the sun and all but a trimming of sky. The rock’s underside is forbidding, nothing but spikes and fangs of dirty yellow stone.
Two winged steeds push off the top edge and fly toward us. Sentries come to warn us away?
“Hannu!” Olus shouts. “Arduk!”
His parents! I lace my fingers in Kastu’s mane.
They fly close. How can they be thousands of years old? They seem barely older than I am.
After circling once, they join us. Hannu flies on Olus’s left, Arduk on my right. Arduk has silky black hair just as Olus does.
He smiles. “Green Bean,” he says, “so you’re the girl our Turnip admires.”
Loves and admires.
Green Bean? He’s nicknamed me! I blush and smile and can’t think of anything to say. Finally: “Akka is beautiful.”
“Hannu made the earth and I made the plants. Enshi Rock is beautiful too.”
We are rising next to a cliff of the same ugly yellow stone as the rock’s bottom. I dare to glance at
Hannu, who has pulled Olus close to her and linked her arm in his.
He says, “This is Kezi, Hannu. Kezi, this is my mati. Hannu, be welcoming.”
“What would I be?” She turns a brilliant smile on me and waves.
I bow my head. She could hate me behind her smile. I’m certain only that she is the most magnificent woman I’ve ever seen. Olus has her wide mouth and brown eyes, but not her elegant eyebrows. Her legs gripping her mount are athletic and graceful. Her arms are as finely modeled as her pottery.
“Kezi!”
I turn to Olus.
“We’ve arrived.”
We rise above Enshi Rock. I look down. The edge is a ribbon of grass. We fly over a narrow peninsula. I see rows of stone seats circling a tiled floor. Men and women fill the first few rows. A woman addresses them.
Not men and women. Gods and goddesses! My stomach tightens.
“Hannu made the peninsula to hold the amphitheater,” Arduk says. “Enshi Rock widens ahead.”
He is kind to be my guide, although I can hardly pay attention. Soon I’ll know my fate. My ears drum soon soon soon.
“Below is my farm, Green Bean. There’s my garden. I planted certain flowers for contrast and others to blend into each other.”
Try to concentrate. I may never see this again.
Two gods sit on a bench. A goddess stands nearby.
Oh! There’s a hole in the center of the garden!
No. Not a hole. A lake that perfectly reflects the blue sky. We cross it, and I see the bellies of the three steeds, their tucked-in legs, and the undersides of their enormous wings.
Ahead is an extraordinary tower, made of a single tall stone. It’s a white finger poking from the center of Enshi Rock.
I turn to Olus. “What is that?”
Arduk answers. “Our temple, Green Bean. Our home. Hannu made it.” I hear the pride in his voice.
As we approach, I see windows and, on the roof, a canopy. Olus’s place, he’s told me.
We land in a paddock near a stable. I rub Kastu’s nose. Give me good fortune, Kastu.
“Kezi!” Hannu opens her arms. “You saved my son! I saw you rise from the volcano with him.”
Olus touches my shoulder, I think to give me confidence, which certainly I need.
She pulls me into a hug. After a moment she holds me at arm’s length. “He would have died for you. How I hated you! But you saved him.” Her eyes search my face. She is judging me.
I stop breathing and meet her eyes. Is this the test? Is Olus’s mati my judge?
Whatever she sees, she says, “You are worthy of my son’s love.” She pulls me close again.
“Th-thank you,” I mumble over her shoulder.
She releases me. “I hope you will be my daughter.”
Hope. This was not the test.
Arduk says, “We both hope you will be our daughter, Green Bean.” He crouches and cups his hand over a patch of grass.
“Arduk . . .” Olus says.
“Patience, Turnip,” he murmurs. His eyes are closed.
The rest of us wait in silence, although I’m not sure why we’re waiting.
Arduk opens his hand. Small flowers climb a tall stalk. Their orange petals are shot through with white veins. I could weave a rug of a single blossom, if I ever weave another rug.
Arduk stands. “In your honor.”
I swallow. “Thank you.”
Olus takes my hand. “Where is the ceremony?”
“In Ursag’s library, Turnip.”
“In the temple,” Olus tells me.
We follow an avenue lined with date palms. I put one foot in front of the other and grip Olus’s hand as tight as I can.
Compared to the temple I feel as tiny as a rabbit. The temple is raised on four legs, each about three times my height. Hannu leads us up the staircase that circles one leg. At the top we enter through a white-painted wooden door into an indoor staircase. We climb past a landing and a door, another landing, another door, another, and another. I remember the tunnel down to Wadir. Now I’m in a tunnel going up, just as frightened as I was then.
59
OLUS
This IS FEAR. The bees and the spiders and Kudiya in the well were shivers compared to what I feel as we enter the temple library.
Ursag’s voice calls, “Come!”
We file down the narrow center aisle between shelves that sag with the weight of the tablets they hold. Kezi precedes me and lets my hand go. I open and close my empty fingers. From behind me Hannu presses the flat of her hand between my shoulder blades.
Puru and Ursag are silhouetted against a bright window. Ursag leans over a table and pours therka into six goblets. Puru holds something in the folds of his linens.
Ever since Kezi left the Hyte market with me, we’ve been traveling toward this gathering.
“Puru!” Kezi runs toward him. She opens her arms as though to embrace him, but stops short and only touches his shoulder. I’ve never seen anyone else touch him.
He doesn’t move, except his chin comes up a little.
Puru, help her! I think. Nudge destiny!
“Thank you, Puru,” she says. “Your words saved me.”
“What . . . words . . . ?”
“‘Fate may be thwarted.’”
“‘I . . . long . . . for . . . a happy outcome.’”
“I sprouted feathers, but I left Wadir.”
“Yes . . .”
I feel as if I’m miles away, watching everyone from the pasture with my goats.
Hannu bursts out of the aisle. “We hope she will be our daughter, Puru.”
“Hope . . . and . . . fate . . . live in separate houses.”
“This is no time for enigmas,” I say, irritated. Help her!
“No . . .”
“Turnip, he means hope has no influence over fate.”
Of course. But Kezi has suffered enough. I want to spill the therka out the window.
“Ursag,” Arduk adds, “we’ve brought the heroine Kezi to you.”
Ursag puts down the therka. Two goblets have yet to be filled. “Kezi!” he says. “Welcome to Enshi Rock.”
She turns from Puru. “Thank you.” Her face is awed.
With his shaggy hair, Ursag is a date palm leaning over her. “Heroes and heroines are revered on Enshi Rock above gods and mortals alike.”
She blushes. “Thank you.”
“Champions, too, Turnip.”
“Puru has a gift for each of you,” Ursag adds.
Puru holds out two clay tablets. Balanced on each is a green limestone seal. I see Puru’s fingers for the first time. The god of destiny bites his fingernails.
I reach for a tablet and seal.
“No . . .” Puru crosses his arms.
I take the correct ones but don’t look at them. Instead I watch Kezi receiving hers. She puts the seal down on the table with the therka and the goblets and traces the figures on the upper half of the tablet, where her story is told in low relief.
“Olus, look! Here I am, coming down the stairs. This is the stream I crossed. That’s a warki. Look! There you are, falling into the volcano, and there’s Kastu. But the warki god isn’t in it. You don’t know about him, do you, Puru?”
“Warki . . . god . . . ?”
“He rules the warkis. Olus, what do the words say?”
“‘Kezi of Hyte, daughter of Senat and Merem, traveled to Wadir, overcame hunger and thirst, sprouted feathers, shed feathers as no one had done before, climbed out of Wadir as no one had done before, and saved the god of the winds to become a heroine of Akka. Much praise to heroine Kezi of Hyte.’”
“Oh!”
I believe I know what she’s thinking: that she has the tablet and seal no matter what comes next. I disagree. She can’t take the seal and the tablet to the grave.
“Let me see yours,” she says.
I put my seal on the table next to hers and tilt the tablet toward her. It depicts a bee and a spider and me, all the same size, then
another image of me, climbing a rock wall with Kudiya.
“Read it, please.”
“‘Olus of Akka, god of the winds, son of Arduk and Hannu, endured bees and spiders, conquered his fear of confinement, succored Kudiya of Akka, carried him from a well during an earthquake as no god had done before, to become a champion of Akka. Much praise to champion Olus of Akka.’”
Hannu picks up Kezi’s seal. “I will make pots of your triumphs.”
“Kezi can knot rugs,” I say. If she lives.
Ursag fills the remaining goblets. I stop breathing. In a moment we’ll know.
60
KEZI
PURU GIVES ME a goblet. The beverage is golden colored, too syrupy to be apple juice, not syrupy enough to be honey. I wait for someone else to drink. When will the test come? The day is half over.
“What do you hope to be goddess of?” Ursag says.
The test is coming soon or he wouldn’t be asking. I haven’t thought of the kind of goddess I should be. I look at Olus.
He smiles at me, but it’s not a real smile. How frightened he is!
I can’t be goddess of anything important. How can I be? “Goddess of the dances of Hyte?”
“Bunda is the goddess of dance, Green Bean. She won’t want to give up any dances.”
I remember that there is a god of weaving. I turn the goblet in my hand.
Everyone waits. The linens over Puru’s fingers flutter. I think he may be frightened too.
What can I be goddess of? Admat, if he exists, is the god of everything. The Akkan gods probably need no one else. What’s left?
It comes to me. “If I can, I will be the goddess of uncertainty.”
Puru’s shoulders slump. I’ve chosen wrong!
But Hannu cries, “Glorious!”
“Original,” Ursag says. “We have no god or goddess of doubt.”
They raise their goblets.
“This is therka, Kezi,” Ursag says. “You will find it only on Enshi Rock.”
“Drink, Green Bean.”
“Wait!” In front of all of them, Olus kisses me on the lips.
The kiss alarms me more than anything. I’m embarrassed, too, but I understand it’s the last kiss before my fate is decided, so I kiss him back.