“I don’t think any of us has reason to think it is,” Yaikha replied, and none spoke up to disagree. “As my father and his father before him said: the Raen may not hesitate to kill, and we may not agree with his reasons, but he does not do it for enjoyment.”
Rielle was intrigued to see nods all around the circle. The Guide’s manner of speaking, almost an intonation, suggested that the Travellers had an understanding of the Raen gained over centuries and passed down each generation. They must know a lot about him–bits of information picked up over the cycles and shared at meetings like this.
“More questions?” Yaikha asked.
No reply came. The Guide turned to her and smiled. “Thank you, Rielle. You may go now. We will discuss what you have told us and send Baluka when we have decided.”
She nodded to him, then to the circle of leaders, then left the way Baluka had brought her into the circle. Alone, she walked back to the canopy where she had been sitting with Ankari. Baluka’s mother was not there, but Jikari and Hari were and they dragged her down beside them and demanded she draw a portrait of them together. She was seized by a sudden fear of losing them, these two women who had welcomed her into their extended family like another sister.
Then her earlier discomfort returned. Is it fair of me to want the Travellers’ approval to marry Baluka so that I can enjoy the company of these women? Is it fair to accept his proposal if I don’t love him with the same passion with which he loves me?
The voice of her aunt echoed in her memory. “Love doesn’t have to come first. Your uncle and I didn’t love each other at the beginning, but we learned to respect each other, and love grew out of that. I was glad my parents chose him for me.”
I respect him, don’t I?
Yet that was the heart of the problem. It felt disrespectful to lie. To pretend.
Then tell him, she thought. Or it will eat you up inside.
But what if the knowledge that she did not love him ate him up inside instead? Better, then, that she was the one to suffer, since she was the cause of the problem. And it might not come to that, anyway. She might yet grow to love him. How can I not? He was, after all, kind and attractive. Maybe it was only that her fondness for him was a different sort of love than her love for Izare. She was a different person now. She would love differently now.
Her drawing of Hari and Jikari came out badly, but they admired it all the same. She apologised and promised she would do another one. It was her last sheet of paper, so she could draw no more, but Sadeer had completed her wedding outfit and all were taking it in turns to stand up and examine the elaborate stitchwork and luxurious fabric.
Before Rielle had a chance to look, a hand slipped around her arm and she turned to see Ankari nodding back in the direction of the leaders’ meeting. Baluka had emerged, his face in shadow as the second sun was behind him–having not quite followed its sibling over the horizon.
“Go to him,” Ankari said.
Weaving her way past the other Travellers, Rielle emerged into air growing colder as night approached. Out of the light, she was able to make out more of Baluka’s face, but not enough to gauge his expression. Her heart quickened. Her stomach seemed to hover, as if on the brink of plummeting to the depths of her. Can I stay, or will I have to start again?
As she reached him, he took her hands and squeezed them.
“They approved it,” he said, then exhaled.
She sighed with relief. His eyes reflected the lights of the canopy behind her. She opened her mouth, but suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. Aware that he was watching her, she lowered her gaze.
“Come with me,” he said.
He tugged her hands, drawing her away. “But your mother…?”
“She knows.”
Letting him lead, she considered the future that lay before her, unimpeded. She would marry him. They would travel the worlds and raise a family. One day his father would turn over leadership of the family to Baluka, and a great part of that responsibility would also fall to her. From what she had seen, it was hard work, sometimes dangerous, sometimes exhausting, but a life the Travellers were happy with. A life not unlike the one she had dreamed of as a child, in which she defied tradition and joined her brother in travelling to far places to buy the dyes and fabric her parents had traded in.
They reached the road. Baluka created a flame to dance before them as they started down it, and she soon realised he was taking her back to the wagons. Perhaps simply so they could talk alone. Perhaps he had something else in mind. Would I mind, if he did? After all, she was no innocent in these matters, though it had been years since she had last enjoyed physical contact with a man. The thought of it did spark excitement within her. Though if I conceived, it could be awkward, if we have to wait another cycle before we marry.