*
TWO DAYS AFTER IT was all done, I returned to the Drowning in Willinghouse’s coach, Dahria dressed to the nines at my side, escorted by Mnenga and a liveried driver. I led them wordlessly through the tumbledown huts and faded awnings, through the ripe smells of moldering vegetables, charcoal grills, and foraging warthogs, to Rahvey’s house. We accumulated a watchful train, and word of our arrival went ahead of us like fire leaping from bush to bush till it seemed the whole community was out to see the return of their most curious prodigal.
In my arms I carried Kalla, openly for all to see.
Rahvey and her girls were already out on the porch, and Sinchon came running up from the river with a rusty pot in his hands. Dahria lifted her dress above the mud, but for once, said nothing, and her face was impassive, as if she had not noticed the way the crowd stared at her. Indeed, no one spoke, and I did not mount the porch steps, but stood below my sister, whose face was guarded. From the edge of the crowd I saw Florihn, the midwife, bustling imperiously to the front, her face hard. Four of the elders were there too. They looked cautious, watchful. Jadary, Rahvey’s youngest, stood on her tiptoes to see the baby in my arms, her hands clasped in front of her chest.
“I have brought you your daughter, Rahvey,” I said. “I took her to the orphanage, but I have seen it, and it is a hard, unfeeling place designed not to nurture children but to break them. They should not have your little girl. I cannot keep her myself, for though I have feelings for the child, I have neither the skill nor the patience to be her mother. You do. It is your gift, and I think that in your heart, you love it. I have a job, at least for now, which pays rather better. If you want to take her back, I will bring you money. Every week. More than enough to feed and clothe the child, educate her too, if you don’t object.”
Florihn snorted with scorn, but Rahvey said quietly, “Why would anyone object to educating a girl?”
I nodded cautiously, and for a moment, we watched each other. My focus was broken by a ripple in the crowd. A cab had arrived. Willinghouse, in tinted glasses and wearing a pale, elegant suit with a cravat, was watching from the road.
As if sensing something in the air, Florihn spoke. “The rule against four daughters is not merely about money,” she said, drawing herself up. “It is about what is seemly, what is traditional.”
“Traditions evolve,” I said. “People move on.”
“People leave, you mean,” said Florihn. “And when they do, they lose the right to decide what is appropriate for their people. You come here with your fancy friends, your white friends—”
“My grandmother was born just over there,” inserted Dahria brightly, in flawless Lani, pointing toward the river. “We’re quite an astonishingly diverse little band.” She smiled as if she had just remarked upon the weather, and the crowd stared at her. “I’m sorry,” she added to Florihn, who was blinking but otherwise motionless, as if in the grip of some curious catatonia, “you were saying?”
“It doesn’t matter what she was saying,” said Rahvey. “She does not speak for me. Or for the Drowning.”
Jadary stared wide eyed at her mother, a look of shock and delight.
“How dare you!” Florihn blustered, but the crowd was not on her side.
I don’t know if something had happened or if I was merely glimpsing it for the first time, but Rahvey was right. The midwife did not speak for the people, and I saw two of the elders exchange sidelong glances. One of them tipped his head fractionally and raised his eyebrows, the smallest shrug I had ever seen.
And with that infinitesimal gesture, the Lani way buckled and reshaped itself, the curse was dispelled, and the Drowning changed.
“I shall keep the child,” said Rahvey, “and her name will be…” She hesitated, her eyes still locked on mine. “I was going to name her Cenu, after the goddess, but I think we will call her Kalla.”
I smiled then, though tears had started to my eyes, and before I could change my mind, I kissed the baby on her forehead once and handed her to her mother.
“Take this too,” I added, fishing the habbit from my satchel.
“But that was yours,” said Rahvey, gazing at it with wonder. “Papa gave it you.”
I nodded, weeping, and could just manage to say, “She likes it.”
“No,” said Rahvey. “You may have use for it.”
I managed a smile as I put it away, but I saw the sadness in her face and knew something else was coming.
“You have to go now, Ang,” she said. “Though I release you from it, you broke your vow. And I think killed our sister. I almost understand, and I am sure you could explain, but you cannot be here. Not now.”
“Rahvey!” I said, suddenly breathless. “You know what she did?”
My sister—my sole surviving sister—nodded, tears in her eyes.