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He stares at his palms An old white scar cuts across his left hand,as I reot it

He looks up "Polodos, you will buy reeds The wo mats We will sleep and sit on these mats only All other furniture is to be covered and not used until after the funeral The women’s ribbons and masks and fripperiesshrouds"

"Burned!" Ahts not to break down

I’oes on "Once the un ill imbibe only water and bread until Lord Ottonor enters his new abode in the City of the Dead The food ould have eaten will be given to the oracles Is that understood?"

Cook is of Patron parentage but she was born and raised in Efea She looks aghast as she protectively pushes the platters closer to Mother

"My lord father, is that necessary?" asks Maraya in her calm way "It is not commonly the custom here in Efea to follow the harsher laws of the old empire I can show you the Archival records of funeral feasts observed even in the greater and lesser palaces…"

"Wewith complete propriety, exactly as it was observed in the days of the empire" Father is a blade of steel, sharp and unle step wrong, as Bettany has seen fit to remind us We are not a palace to bend custom to our convenience"

Mother curves a hand over her belly "My lord, of course the household will obey the holy customs of the old eed and infiroat’s then their blood?"

My mouth drops open Never in my life have I heard Mother question one of Father’s decrees, not in front of us girls

"No" His tone whips us "The gods protect those who are fully obedient to their decrees The oracles see all Everything must be done with the most scrupulous observance"

We stand as silent as if we have had our tongues cut out It is hard to s

Dried blood flakes off his hand "IThe ashes of our vanity will be placed in Lord Ottonor’s tomb when he is interred after the funeral procession"

His gaze holds each of us in turn Even Bettany says nothing, for once cowed just like the rest of us When he looks at ry brow His right eye twitches as if a flash of light has made him want to blink

A terrible idea rises up in ht would happen, not yet, not now He fears what Lord Ottonor’s death will bring But I ahters I a of us at all

12

At dusk we begin burning clothes in a brick hearth hastily built at the open front gate We drape ourselves inshrouds, wrinkled linen sacks with holes cut for arate so everyone can see our piety Ribbons blacken and curl Ash seeps everywhere

Saroese priests sing the proper ritual songs, which drone on and on An elderly Efean servant called Saffron faints and is taken inside Half of the household is coughing frorief I am sorry Lord Ottonor is dead but I aht ahead Shadows haunt entle eyes Bettany is silent Maraya looks as if her carefully tended dreams have been demolished Poor Amaya sobs as she places the three beautiful ht onto the flaear in a rice basket Will the oracles punish all of us for o and fetch it out If I lose the Fives, I will turn into ashes too

Long after everyone has stumbled off to catch what sleep they can on mats on the floor, I sit alone in the faray, burned to cinders My thoughts chase like adversaries through a maze

It is true that Lord Ottonor rode Father’s ain benefit from the achievements of their sponsored men He did not co He allowed Mother to cos and treated her with tolerant respect He could have forced Father to get rid of us daughters but he did not In his oay he accepted us He allowed us to stay together

I bury ht such s about him and noish I could take them all back