Happy Marriages
Madurasha was a big, impressive man. His beard was long and glossy black, his nose like an eagle’s beak.
Heavy gold rings decorated his ears and his fingers.
He and Vanu could not communicate directly—in those days Vanu didn’t know enough Zashian for a conversation—so they had mostly been sitting and smiling at each other across Davanu’s table while Davanu did the talking.
Vanu had brought Darma, his interpreter, but it turned out that there wasn’t much for him to do.
Davanu spoke hand language fluently himself, and his Zashian was better than Darma’s, so he could more easily interpret between Vanu and Madurasha.
Darma was sitting in a corner of the divan beside Vanu and sulking.
Vanu felt young and uncouth in the presence of the Zashian nobleman, and Darma was not helping.
But it made Vanu like Madurasha all the better, because he was so urbane and sensible while Vanu’s loyal companion was acting like a bad-mannered child.
Madurasha spoke finally, in a low, measured rumble, his eyes on the middle distance, his fingers moving over the string of prayer beads that he held in his right hand.
“He says there are many in Akramarra who don’t want peace with Hawakhurta,” Davanu translated, although Vanu had understood that part of what Madurasha had said, “because they have long wanted to control the passes themselves, to see the Hawakhaba driven out of the mountains and cooperative Akra governors installed. Then there are also ambitious Zashians who want to win the king’s favour by subduing the mountains themselves.
Mathista of the Panchun, for instance, and the king’s own brother Artayarasha. ”
“Among us, too,” Vanu signed. “The men who make their fortunes as raiders don’t want peace because it would mean an end to raiding.”
Darma made an aborted movement, as if he’d been about to say something and thought better of it.
Davanu translated Vanu’s words for Madurasha, who nodded sympathetically.
He was such a gracious man, Vanu thought.
He acted as though he understood, when he could have no real knowledge of what it was like dealing with the Hawakhaba, with their feuds and their bee-fuckery, their endless striving and competing for plunder. It wasn’t like that in the lowlands.
Davanu smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of whatever Madurasha had just said.
“He says he has four sons and no daughters, or he would propose a marriage alliance. Though he does have a niece.”
Darma laughed out loud. Vanu and Davanu both glared at him. Madurasha gave him a look of polite alarm, the way Vanu imagined he might look at someone who’d made a rude body noise very loudly at the table.
Davanu recovered quickly, and Vanu was able to make out that he was telling Madurasha that Darma was surprised because Vanu was young to marry, not yet twenty-one.
Madurasha expressed urbane amazement, smiling at Vanu, and then apologized for forgetting that Hawa men took only one wife and so would want to take their time choosing.
When he was gone, Vanu seized Darma by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
“Don’t know what you were playing at, but don’t fucking do that again,” Vanu snarled.
Darma didn’t pretend he didn’t know what Vanu meant. He held up his hands as the colour drained out of his face. “All right. I’m sorry.”
Vanu let go of him, and Darma rallied a little.
“It was just funny thinking of you marrying a Zashian girl,” he muttered.
“I don’t see what’s funny about it,” said Davanu. “He may not want to, but it would be fine if he did.”
Darma stared at him. “And be yoked to some lowland woman with ties to the Kuro clan, after we’ve made what use we can of Madurasha and cut him loose? That seems a steep price to pay—and hard on the girl, for that matter—even if Vanu liked women.”
“Who said anything about cutting Madurasha loose?” said Davanu.
“Who said anything about not?” Darma looked alarmed. He gaped at Vanu and Davanu in turn. “You’re not seriously considering going to the invader king to—to what? To surrender?”
“To discuss terms of peace,” Vanu signed. “Were you not listening to us talk just now?”
“I was listening, but I didn’t think you were serious! Heart of the Blue Heaven.”
He got quiet after that, quieter than was usual for Darma.
“I’m glad your interpreter saw sense,” Davanu said later. “I thought for a little while there he was going to cause trouble. But he seems to have come round quite quickly.”
Vanu, who knew Darma better, wasn’t so sure that’s what it was, but he said nothing.
Lill slept late the next morning, and he did it in his own bed. Vanu peeked in at him, saw him sleeping soundly, and closed the shutters so the sun wouldn’t stream in on the bed and wake him before he wanted to be up.
He missed Lill’s company as he went out to milk the goats, which seemed silly since they’d only been doing it together for a week and a half.
But as he was finishing the chore he saw Gurti collecting eggs from the ducks that roamed around the village, and he was glad of the opportunity to speak to her.
“Good morning, Lord Vanu,” she said.
“Did the men fare all right last night?”
“I believe so, my lord. I persuaded them all to go sleep at Tirtu’s house, and I have just been over and left them a tonic for their heads, though they’re all still asleep. How is Lill?”
“Fine. He drank much less than the others.”
She nodded. “He’s a sensible boy.”
Vanu had set down the buckets of milk to sign, and he was about to pick them up, but he hesitated. “We had a … sort of a fight last night.”
She made no particular reaction. “Your first?”
“I suppose. Yes.” If you weren’t counting their very first interaction, which had involved Vanu slamming Lill against a tree.
“About the drinking?” Gurti’s expression was wary now.
“No! I’m happy for him to go out and enjoy himself. Makes me feel less bad about having him live penned in here with me.”
Gurti nodded, looking relieved. “Do you want to tell me what you fought about?” she prompted.
Vanu thought about that. He didn’t, really. It would feel like a betrayal to reveal that Lill was sneaking around the place at night. He wanted Lill to have Gurti’s good opinion.
“I just wanted to ask your advice about talking to him this morning,” he said.
“I see. Are you still angry?”
“No!”
“Do you think he is?”
“No … ”
He was about to say that Lill had never been angry, but then he thought that—without explaining about the sneaking and the breaking locks—would make it sound like he was a bad husband, picking one-sided fights. Besides, he wasn’t sure it was true. It was often hard to tell what Lill was feeling.
“Do you think I should bring it up again,” he said, “or act as if nothing happened?” That got at the heart of the question.
Gurti looked at the ground for a moment. “I would say bringing it up and acting as if it didn’t happen are not the only two options,” she said finally.
“That sounds like a riddle.”
She gave a laugh that sounded like a sigh. “I suppose I mean you could treat him with a little extra affection this morning. I’m sure you would do it naturally, my lord. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” And she added, signing, “I don’t know much about happy marriages.”
Vanu froze. She’d never said anything like that to him before, in all the three years they’d been living here. It wasn’t that he’d thought she and Faru were happy—obviously they weren’t—but she was much too dutiful to say anything about it.
“If there’s ever anything I can do,” he signed.
She looked startled and flustered, gathering up the eggs in her apron hastily. “I can’t think that there would be, my lord.”
“Thank you for your advice,” he said formally.
He dropped off the milk, dodged a bleary-eyed Padunu staggering out of Tirtu’s house in the direction of the privy with one hand over his mouth, and returned home.
He made tea, hung his bedding out on the balcony to air, and only noticed that he was whistling when he realized that Lill’s door was open and Lill was standing in the doorway, squinting in the sunlight.
“Shit, did I wake you?”
“No, I was awake. But I heard you and thought I’d come out.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Um … fine.” He raked his hair back with his hand. It was gorgeously untidy.
“I made you tea.” Vanu pointed to the pot on the table. “We’ve had breakfast already, but there’s porridge left. I’ll get you a bowl.”
Lill looked confused and slightly wary. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”
“No trouble.” Vanu took off down the stairs before he could do any of the things he’d thought of in the category of “a little extra affection.” Clearly they weren’t what was called for here.
The plum wine had been nice, and a slight headache the next day wasn’t much of a price to pay, but on the whole Lill didn’t think he was ready to become a serious drinker.
For one thing, he passed by Tirtu’s house around noon and heard sounds of groaning that suggested terrible suffering was going on within.
The other reason was more complex and had something to do with the fact that Vanu didn’t drink wine himself.
It wasn’t that Lill felt he shouldn’t enjoy something that Vanu couldn’t …
of course it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that he thought it would be more enjoyable to drink with Vanu …
no, in fact, it was that. Drinking with the other men of Umtúshta was all right, and he could see himself doing it once in a while.
But he couldn’t see it becoming a habit if it didn’t involve the person he …
The person he talked to the most. That was certainly Vanu. Of course it was; Lill had been quite deliberate about it. He was trying to be a pleasing wife, and conversation at least was something he could handle.