“Three hours, by the water clock. Hasbabsah had to find chalk and paperbark. She had to steal grain to entice the messenger bird to come.”
“Come with me.”
Unar went to the Gate. Ylly followed. The market wasn’t far from the Garden. If Oos had gone there, she’d be back soon; Unar bit her lip and gazed at the open archway with the beautiful carved doors thrown back, wondering if she dared leave the Garden in broad daylight.
She’d almost been a slave. Her parents had all but agreed to sell her. The Garden had saved her. It was her home and her shelter. She wouldn’t risk being expelled for the sake of a rescue mission that might be completely unnecessary. Not when she had so much to learn, and more to accomplish.
Before Unar could decide on anything drastic, Oos returned, alone, along the steep path up to the Garden Gate. Ylly, rocking on her heels at Unar’s side, stiffened at the sight of her but said nothing.
“Unar,” Oos said breathlessly, ignoring the crouching slave. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Yes, I was,” Unar said, relieved to see Oos pass easily through the wards. Oos had neither stolen, raped, nor killed. Nothing bad could have happened to Sawas. She’d be along, soon, carrying some bought trinket or other. “Where have you been?”
Oos seemed taken aback.
“One who walks in the grace of Audblayin has been to the home of the weaver, Epatut. It grows cooler at night, and the Temple was in need of some new blankets. I took two slaves from the low levels for the trade. They weren’t needed here. They’re with Wife-of-Epatut, now. She’s pregnant again, by the grace of Audblayin, and wanted a wet nurse in waiting.”
Unar couldn’t bring herself to look at Ylly.
“It has been cooler at night,” Unar repeated stupidly.
“I don’t need you now, slave,” Oos told Ylly. “I’ll walk alone with this Gardener.”
When Ylly had gone, Oos seized Unar’s hand and dragged her into the green shade of the ferns, where they were concealed by a profusion of new fronds.
“What are you doing, Unar?”
“What do you mean?”
“That slave girl, Sawas, came to me this morning. She said you were learning to swim. She said you wanted to sneak into the Temple and make babies with Aoun. You aren’t loyal to the Temple, she said, but she offered to report everything you did to Servant Eilif, if only she would be allowed to keep her child with her until it was of age, instead of being at the mercy of the Garden’s needs. I had to get rid of her and the child before she could tell anyone else!”
“I don’t want to make babies with Aoun!”
“Is that all you have to say? Have you been learning to swim?”
“Just one lesson, Oos. I’m trying to conquer my weaknesses. You know I’m afraid of the water!”
“Don’t you have enough work to do?”
“Don’t speak to me like I’m a slave. I lied for you, when you made music in the loquat grove. I hid your bells under the avocado tree so you wouldn’t be cast out of the Garden.”
“And now I’ve sold two slaves for you.”
“She was lying about me,” Unar spat, eye to eye with Oos.
“Are your oaths unbound, Unar?”
“No!”
“I think they might be. I think when you went into Understorey, something happened—”
“Nothing happened! I love the Garden. I’m loyal to it. Don’t you believe me? Don’t you know me at all? If my oaths are unbound, why haven’t I bled?”
“Haven’t you?”
“I should hate you for that,” Unar said, but she knew she couldn’t hate Oos, not really.
Ylly’s hatred would surely be enough for both of them.
NINETEEN
ON THE first day of spring, word reached the Garden that Wife-of-Epatut’s child was lost.
Ylly no longer spoke at all to Unar, even though they worked together every night by the light of the moon or stars. No longer required as a child-minder, Hasbabsah had been returned to the Garden proper, where she was, as before, physically incapable of doing the work she was assigned. Though Ylly clearly despised Unar, blaming her for the loss of her daughter, Unar fell again into the routine of helping to hide Hasbabsah’s weakness in order to keep her alive.
Unar couldn’t help but overhear the Gardeners’ gossip at mealtimes. Soon after the miscarriage, Wife-of-Epatut came again to be blessed. It was late in the afternoon. She didn’t bring Sawas with her to carry her tribute; she carried it alone.
It was a basket of metal-stone fruit from Akkadland. The fruit goddess could cause the great trees to draw up metal through their mighty roots and form it into seed-shaped ingots at the heart of her emergent’s stringy, yellow fruit. It was a power that Audblayin didn’t have, even during her incarnation’s prime of life.
“I must have a son this time,” Wife-of-Epatut said to Unar, who had sensed her coming and met her at the Gate. “Please, Gardener. Lead me to the Temple.”
Unar tried to take the basket, but Wife-of-Epatut resisted.
“I must carry the offering,” she said. “I must show my humility to Audblayin. I couldn’t carry the last child that she gave to me. The fault must be mine.”
She was a wide-built woman with an unblemished brow, colourful silks woven into her hair to advertise her trade, and a bosom that caused the front of her gown to fall a foot-length in front of the rest of her body.
“It’s not your fault,” Unar said. She tried to think of a way to ask about Sawas, about baby Ylly, but Wife-of-Epatut’s protuberant, pain-filled, expectant eyes, turned in the direction of the Temple, and she began to lead the way towards the shallow ford where penitents crossed the fish-filled moat.
Unar glared at the water that she wasn’t allowed to trespass through as Wife-of-Epatut waded awkwardly onward, struggling under the weight of the basket. Aoun came out of the egg-shaped Temple to meet her. He looked even taller than the last time Unar had seen him, and there was two days’ growth along his jaw as though he’d been too busy with his new and very important training to take the time to shave.
Wife-of-Epatut allowed him to take the basket.
As night fell, Unar stayed standing by the ford. She should have retreated to the loquat grove, but she didn’t care about being reprimanded. Aoun emerged, carrying his Gatekeeper’s lantern. He walked across the surface of the water without sinking, his magic more luminous than the lantern. Unar hadn’t seen any of the Servants do such a thing before. His sandals were dry.
“Go to bed, Gardener,” he said wearily.
She fell in beside him.
“Have you helped her?” Unar wanted to know. “Have you guaranteed a son to her, who dropped one daughter and miscarried another?”
“We’ve done nothing yet. Wife-of-Epatut gives tribute. She prays to Audblayin.”
“Where is Audblayin?”
“It doesn’t matter where. She hears our prayers.”
“He hears them, you mean. He hears them, even though he’s a screaming infant. That’s ridiculous. We both know he hears nothing until he comes of age.”
“What do you want, Unar?”
“Show me what you’re going to do to Wife-of-Epatut. How is it that you make a woman more fertile? Is it the same as plants? How is it that you choose the baby’s sex?”