and draughts. Not the sort of qualities to make a father proud.
In the end it had been Chaka who’d joined her father in the hunt, and who managed the farm in his absence. On one memorable occasion, during a raid by a Makar force, she had led the defense. “Your mother would have been proud of you,” he’d told her. It was the ultimate compliment.
Lia had died after contracting a virulent illness as Chaka approached adolescence. Her father was killed seven years later in a gunfight with poachers. The farm went to Sauk, while she moved eventually to the villa and established a living as a silversmith and jewelry designer.
Chaka wanted a family. She wanted a good spouse, a man who could engage her emotions, whose spirit she would be pleased to pass on to her children. But she simply hadn’t found anyone like that yet. And, living in a society in which most girls were married by seventeen, she was beginning to feel a sense of urgency. And of fear. Although she would not admit it to herself, this was why Raney was now prominent in her life. She was, at long last, prepared to settle.
The sundial at the foot of Calagua Hill registered the third afternoon hour. Chaka took time to wander through the bazaar.
She had no competitors among the city jewelry shops, who appealed to those customers who were primarily interested in economy and glitter. Chaka had established her reputation as an artist, from whom one could either buy fine pieces off the shelf, or have them custom made. Nevertheless, she knew the people who ran the other businesses and enjoyed spending time with them. So she whiled away an afternoon that seemed strangely restless. Toward the end of the day she stopped by the library and basked in the admiration and gratitude that Connecticut Yankee generated. She was delighted to discover she’d acquired a considerable degree of celebrity.
Silas came in while she was there. He was in a jovial mood and joked about how he and a former student had considered burglarizing Flojian’s place. “He’s out of town, and the militia could go through the house without waking up Toko,” he said. Still, at sundown, she returned to Piper, her mount, feeling out of sorts. This should have been a good time for her, a time to celebrate her fortune. Yet she had never felt more alone.
Raney was waiting at the west gate.
He looked good on a horse, far more graceful than one would normally expect from a shopkeeper. He was handsome, and she did not want to let him get away. He was reasonably intelligent, he treated her well, and he would be a good provider. Furthermore, Chaka lived in a society which tended to dismiss romantic notions as so much petty nonsense. Marriage was for procreation and mutual support and economic stability. Her father had summed up this philosophy when he realized she was imbibing some of her mother’s ill-advised notions. Marry a friend, and preferably a friend with means , he had said. You cannot do better than that . He would have approved heartily of Raney.
“I think you’re right about the book,” she said, as they rode out of the city. “Eventually, I’ll sell it. For now, I’ve turned it over to the Senatorial Library for safekeeping.”
“Good.” His congenial features showed that he agreed completely with this common-sense decision. “Take your time with it, find out what it’ll bring, and get the best price you can. Having the library put it on display’s a smart idea. That can’t hurt.” He grinned. It was a good smile, warm and genuine, the smile of a man at peace with the world. His soft blue eyes were almost feminine. They lingered on her, and expressed more clearly than words ever could his devotion to her. He’d proposed marriage several weeks ago, and she had put him off, told him she was not ready. She’d expected he would sulk or withdraw, but to her surprise he’d laughed and told her she was worth waiting for and he would be patient. “I’ll try again,” he’d
In the end it had been Chaka who’d joined her father in the hunt, and who managed the farm in his absence. On one memorable occasion, during a raid by a Makar force, she had led the defense. “Your mother would have been proud of you,” he’d told her. It was the ultimate compliment.
Lia had died after contracting a virulent illness as Chaka approached adolescence. Her father was killed seven years later in a gunfight with poachers. The farm went to Sauk, while she moved eventually to the villa and established a living as a silversmith and jewelry designer.
Chaka wanted a family. She wanted a good spouse, a man who could engage her emotions, whose spirit she would be pleased to pass on to her children. But she simply hadn’t found anyone like that yet. And, living in a society in which most girls were married by seventeen, she was beginning to feel a sense of urgency. And of fear. Although she would not admit it to herself, this was why Raney was now prominent in her life. She was, at long last, prepared to settle.
The sundial at the foot of Calagua Hill registered the third afternoon hour. Chaka took time to wander through the bazaar.
She had no competitors among the city jewelry shops, who appealed to those customers who were primarily interested in economy and glitter. Chaka had established her reputation as an artist, from whom one could either buy fine pieces off the shelf, or have them custom made. Nevertheless, she knew the people who ran the other businesses and enjoyed spending time with them. So she whiled away an afternoon that seemed strangely restless. Toward the end of the day she stopped by the library and basked in the admiration and gratitude that Connecticut Yankee generated. She was delighted to discover she’d acquired a considerable degree of celebrity.
Silas came in while she was there. He was in a jovial mood and joked about how he and a former student had considered burglarizing Flojian’s place. “He’s out of town, and the militia could go through the house without waking up Toko,” he said. Still, at sundown, she returned to Piper, her mount, feeling out of sorts. This should have been a good time for her, a time to celebrate her fortune. Yet she had never felt more alone.
Raney was waiting at the west gate.
He looked good on a horse, far more graceful than one would normally expect from a shopkeeper. He was handsome, and she did not want to let him get away. He was reasonably intelligent, he treated her well, and he would be a good provider. Furthermore, Chaka lived in a society which tended to dismiss romantic notions as so much petty nonsense. Marriage was for procreation and mutual support and economic stability. Her father had summed up this philosophy when he realized she was imbibing some of her mother’s ill-advised notions. Marry a friend, and preferably a friend with means , he had said. You cannot do better than that . He would have approved heartily of Raney.
“I think you’re right about the book,” she said, as they rode out of the city. “Eventually, I’ll sell it. For now, I’ve turned it over to the Senatorial Library for safekeeping.”
“Good.” His congenial features showed that he agreed completely with this common-sense decision. “Take your time with it, find out what it’ll bring, and get the best price you can. Having the library put it on display’s a smart idea. That can’t hurt.” He grinned. It was a good smile, warm and genuine, the smile of a man at peace with the world. His soft blue eyes were almost feminine. They lingered on her, and expressed more clearly than words ever could his devotion to her. He’d proposed marriage several weeks ago, and she had put him off, told him she was not ready. She’d expected he would sulk or withdraw, but to her surprise he’d laughed and told her she was worth waiting for and he would be patient. “I’ll try again,” he’d
Similar Books
