Part 4 (1/2)

It had been Stela's birthday, and her father had thrown a lavish party for her. I had never quite been sure of my role when I lived with the chief astronomer. I was permitted to eat at the table with the family, and I could reply to their direct questions and smile at their jokes, but I soon realized I was not to initiate conversation. I became an adept watcher, my every nerve strung tight, while I appeared, I hoped, merely preoccupied with my meals. When a voice addressed my general direction, my head would whip up, so prepared was I to partic.i.p.ate. I felt ashamed at my eagerness, and at times, I wished for the easy conversations of the servants' tables, where merchants were welcome.

Since my first night in the city, such arrangements had split my family. As the chief astronomer's daughter, Stela had been permitted to lead me to the dining table, while my uncle and brother were left outdoors to eat with the slaves and servants. It was that way each time our caravan arrived for a visit. The laughter and voices floating in through a distant window made me long for my brother's position, while desire was plain on Salvi's face as he took in Stela's beauty. To this day, I am not sure whether it was more my brother's envy or my own infatuation with Stela that caused the breach with Leyla.

Stela had blue eyes. I had never before seen anyone with blue eyes, and hers were white-blue, blazing in her golden face. Her hair was hennaed red, and she wore it in elaborate designs. She had the bearing of a young queen, and I was utterly captivated by her manner. Still, I was aware that if I held a limbo position at the astronomer's table, much more uncertain were my chances with his daughter.

And I was in love with Leyla. I wrote her long letters, and she replied to each with packages of figs and wine. My sister included small drawings and little stones until she learned to write for herself, which was around the time Leyla ceased to correspond with me. Leyla had never liked to reveal much, but she wrapped each fig carefully and responded promptly so that I knew I was secure in her heart.

Once a year, I was permitted to go home for the harvest festivals. The first year I saw Leyla many times and spent only one night on my father's roof with Omar and Reta, who were eager to learn of my discoveries and lessons among the astronomers. I was willing to teach too, but not as desirous as I was to see Leyla. I concocted excuses of taking food and wine to Aunt Babu's, where I met Leyla and walked her home. Since she had begun to imagine herself as the future bride of a magus, gone were the provocative attempts of years past. Leyla was quiet, though when I kissed her cheek, I could feel a shudder of desire run through her body. Before she ran indoors, cheeks flushed, she smiled.

Before my second visit home, Omar died of fever, and I mourned his death as that of a brother. When I went home for the harvest, my heart was a heavy stone. Omar's mother, still in high mourning, clutched me to her breast, keening and sobbing. She pulled a bundle from her robes, thrust it into my hands, patted my head as if I were a little boy, and returned to her solitary grief.

I waited until I was alone on the roof that night before I opened the bundle. It contained Omar's stargazing cloak. He had made himself one after I showed him my own blue apprentice cloak and described the black cloaks worn by the astronomers. Omar's coat was pieced together from sc.r.a.ps of different fabrics.

”The apprentice's apprentices all wear such cloaks,” he had joked.

Now it was mine, along with a half-finished letter Omar had been writing me before the fever struck.

The shooting stars that night mirrored my tears. Succeeding waves of remembrance would pa.s.s over me, and my tears would course forth again and again. When at last I came downstairs, Reta was sitting alone at the table. I indicated the robe, and she nodded.

”He loved figs and jokes,” I said ”And stars,” she added.

”And stars.” I stood silent in the half light with Reta and became aware that she and I were now man and woman, and that with Omar gone, it would be unseemly for me to look at stars with her. ”You understand, Reta, that we cannot-the stars-it wouldn't be-”

”I know,” she said. ”That's what Omar said.”

I suddenly wondered about Omar and Reta. In my mind, I had been the force drawing us all together and upward to the stars. I had been away two years. Omar had never mentioned Reta in his letters, but I had never asked. A wave of a different emotion swept over me, but I dismissed the jealousy as foolish. I didn't know how to speak of Omar to Reta. Was he-had he been her lover? At the very least, he had been a friend to her in this country so far from her home.

When I arrived back in the city, I could not decide what to do with Omar's ragtag robe. Part of me wanted to wear it under my usual robe when we went observing, but I did not want to be subjected to the usual teasing such aberrations caused. I decided I would wear it to sleep and left it hanging over my bed each day.

One day Stela came to my room with a message. Her eyes were drawn to my colorful spectacle with some amus.e.m.e.nt. ”A little gift from your beloved, Melchior?”

I flushed. ”My best friend. It was his.”

”A touch of home. How sweet.” She turned to go, but then, with a glance over her shoulder, she paused. ”But you do have a girl, don't you, Melchior?”

I blushed deeper as her eyes burned into me. ”Yes,” I managed to say.

”That's a pity.” Stela's silk skirts clung to her hips as she walked away.

From that day forward, I sensed I was an amus.e.m.e.nt to Stela, a plaything. Though I was flattered, not once did I take her seriously. Neither did I realize Stela's intentions.

Stela began by making light gestures-picking a leaf from my robe or brus.h.i.+ng a stray hair behind my ear. She laughed at my jokes and often turned her bright eyes on me at the table. As she helped pa.s.s wine around after dinner, she took care to let her arm brush mine.

She was a dazzling b.u.t.terfly of a girl, and my eyes were delighted by her. At no time did I consider it anything more than Stela's game and my own incidental pleasure. My useless hand, my social status, my lack of ancestry in the magi meant Stela would never consider me seriously.

My eyes were not so fully taken up with Stela that my ears failed to notice a new voice at our table. As the chief astronomer's nephew, Shaz had joined our household. Shaz shared his opinions freely on every topic and had a willing audience in his family. Other than his teeth, which reminded me of a camel's, Shaz was remarkable to look at-tall, bronze-skinned, and sleek-haired. I found his manner distasteful, but I could see how others were drawn to him and how he fed on their attention.

Only Stela stood aloof from this. She was as courteous to Shaz as she was required to be by blood and position. Her blossoming attention to me had made me see her coldness to Shaz by contrast; I admired her judgment of the man.

On Stela's birthday, her father arranged with his brother to borrow two of the king's horses for guests to ride. I was waiting for my uncle's caravan to arrive and was surprised to be invited to join the celebration.

”Ride with me,” Shaz commanded his cousin. Stela wrinkled her nose but was persuaded. I had just ridden with her sister and was still removing my gear when a messenger informed me that my uncle and brother had arrived. Shaz and Stela completed their circuit.

”Melchior!” Stela called. ”Come hold my horse while I dismount.” I did as she bid, but as she climbed down, her foot became tangled in the skirt and she slipped. I caught her awkwardly, hindered by my useless hand.

”Thank you, Melchior,” she said, kissing me full on the mouth. It was over in a second and no one commented on it, but when my brother joined me five minutes later, his face wore a dark look of disapproval. I decided not to ask or tell anything, unless he spoke of it, which he did not, but when he left that night the chasm between us had grown wider.

When I arrived home five moons later for the harvest, tension was there, too. Taz and Salvi were going to be late, so the first evening, my father and I went together to Manu's house. I sat across from Leyla, who was lovelier than ever. I felt no guilt about Stela. Indeed I did not think of her once. Her amus.e.m.e.nt with me had pa.s.sed, and I had realized Stela had been using me largely to make herself more desirable in Shaz's eyes. Once she had succeeded, she relegated me to the status of outsider again, though I liked to think she was kinder than she had been before.

I could not catch Leyla's eye throughout the meal, and I began to wonder if she, like Stela, was playing a game. After the meal, I began whispering into her ear. She stiffened.

”What is it?” I asked.

She shook her head and delivered wine to our fathers. ”The evening is fine,” I heard her say. ”Why not sit in the courtyard?” The men agreed, and I heard Leyla promise that I would join them soon. When she turned toward me again, I saw that her face was earnest. She shook her head once more. I reached an arm out to her.

”No, Melchior. I am betrothed now.”

”What?”

”And you-are you not betrothed also?”

”Of course not-what do you mean?”

”Salvi told me everything. The blue-eyed girl in the big house. The kissing. The caressing. And you say you aren't even betrothed?”

I was aghast. I tried to explain, but I could not translate the culture, the game, Stela, or how it had been only flattery to me. I declared my love plainly for Leyla and begged her to break off the engagement. Tears rolled down her face.

”You belong to a different world now,” she said.

”Do you believe me?”

”I don't know.”

”Oh, Leyla-you have to believe me.”

She hesitated and shrugged.

”Then marry me!”

”I can't.”

”Why not?”