Quiet Knives by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Page B
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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man. "
Shereen blinked, and bent
her head, fussing with the fall of the hijab across her breast. Inas watched
her, abruptly chilly, though the night was warm and no breeze came
though the windows that stood open onto the garden.
"Certainly," Shereen said, after too long a
pause. "Certainly, our father might wish to keep his youngest with
him as long as may be, since he shows no disposition to take
another wife, and she knows the ways of his books and his
studies."
"And certainly," Humaria said, her eyes open
now, and staring at Inas, where she knelt, feeling much like a
mouse, and not so bold, so bold at all.
"Certainly, on that blessed day when the
gods call our father to sit with them as a saint in Heaven, my
husband will inherit all his worldly stuffs, including this, our
clever sister Inas, to dispose of as he will."
At her father's direction, Inas had read
many things, including the Holy Books and domestic law. She knew,
with a scholar's detachment, that women were the lesser vessel and
men the god-chosen administrators of the universe the gods had
created, toyed with and tired of.
She knew that, in point of law, women were
disbarred from holding property. Indeed, in point of law, women
were themselves property, much the same as an ox or other working
cattle, subject to a man's masterful oversight. A man might dispose
of subject women, as he might dispose of an extra brood cow, or of
an old and toothless dog.
She knew these things.
And, yet, until this moment, she had not
considered the impact of these facts upon her own life and
self.
What, indeed, she thought, would Safarez the
merchant's son do with one Inas, youngest daughter of his wife's
father? Inas, who read as well as a man--a sinful blot so dire that
she could not but be grateful that the Holy Books also stated that
the souls of women were small, withered things, of no interest to
the gods.
Humaria finished the last of her tea, and
sat cradling the blue cup in her plump, pretty hands, her eyes
misty.
"There now, sweet, rest," Shereen murmured,
capturing the cup and passing it to Inas. She put arm around
Humaria's shoulders, urging her to lie down on the couch.
Inas arose and carried the
tray back to the cooking alcove. She washed and dried the teapot
and cup, and put the crackers back in their tin. The sventi she left
out.
She was wise in this, for not many minutes
later, Shereen slipped into the alcove, veils dangling and
flame-colored hair rippling free. She sighed, and reached for the
leaves, eating two, one after the other, before giving Inas a swift
glance out of the sides of her eyes, as if Shereen were the
youngest, and caught by her elder in some unwomanly bit of
mischief.
"Our sister was distraught," she said
softly. "She never meant to wound you."
"She did not wound me," Inas murmured. "She
opened my eyes to the truth."
Shereen stared, sventi leaf halfway to
her lips.
"You do not find the truth a fearsome thing,
then, sister?" she asked, and it was Inas who looked away this
time.
"The truth is merely a statement of what
is," she said, repeating the most basic of her father's lessons,
and wishing that her voice did not tremble so. "Once the truth is
known, it can be accepted. Truth defines the order of the universe.
By accepting truth, we accept the will of the gods."
Shereen ate her leaf in silence. "It must be
a wonderful thing to be a scholar," she said then, "and have no
reason to fear." She smiled, wearily.
"Give you sweet slumber, sister. The morrow
will be upon us too soon."
She went away, robes rustling, leaving Inas
alone with the truth.
* * *
THE TRUTH, BEING BRIGHT,
held Inas from sleep, until at last she sat up within her chatrue , lit her fragrant
lamp, and had the books of her own studies down from the
shelf.
In the doubled brightness, she read until
the astronomer on his distant column announced the sighting of the
Trio of morning with his baleful song.
She read as a scholar would, from books to
which her father,
Shereen blinked, and bent
her head, fussing with the fall of the hijab across her breast. Inas watched
her, abruptly chilly, though the night was warm and no breeze came
though the windows that stood open onto the garden.
"Certainly," Shereen said, after too long a
pause. "Certainly, our father might wish to keep his youngest with
him as long as may be, since he shows no disposition to take
another wife, and she knows the ways of his books and his
studies."
"And certainly," Humaria said, her eyes open
now, and staring at Inas, where she knelt, feeling much like a
mouse, and not so bold, so bold at all.
"Certainly, on that blessed day when the
gods call our father to sit with them as a saint in Heaven, my
husband will inherit all his worldly stuffs, including this, our
clever sister Inas, to dispose of as he will."
At her father's direction, Inas had read
many things, including the Holy Books and domestic law. She knew,
with a scholar's detachment, that women were the lesser vessel and
men the god-chosen administrators of the universe the gods had
created, toyed with and tired of.
She knew that, in point of law, women were
disbarred from holding property. Indeed, in point of law, women
were themselves property, much the same as an ox or other working
cattle, subject to a man's masterful oversight. A man might dispose
of subject women, as he might dispose of an extra brood cow, or of
an old and toothless dog.
She knew these things.
And, yet, until this moment, she had not
considered the impact of these facts upon her own life and
self.
What, indeed, she thought, would Safarez the
merchant's son do with one Inas, youngest daughter of his wife's
father? Inas, who read as well as a man--a sinful blot so dire that
she could not but be grateful that the Holy Books also stated that
the souls of women were small, withered things, of no interest to
the gods.
Humaria finished the last of her tea, and
sat cradling the blue cup in her plump, pretty hands, her eyes
misty.
"There now, sweet, rest," Shereen murmured,
capturing the cup and passing it to Inas. She put arm around
Humaria's shoulders, urging her to lie down on the couch.
Inas arose and carried the
tray back to the cooking alcove. She washed and dried the teapot
and cup, and put the crackers back in their tin. The sventi she left
out.
She was wise in this, for not many minutes
later, Shereen slipped into the alcove, veils dangling and
flame-colored hair rippling free. She sighed, and reached for the
leaves, eating two, one after the other, before giving Inas a swift
glance out of the sides of her eyes, as if Shereen were the
youngest, and caught by her elder in some unwomanly bit of
mischief.
"Our sister was distraught," she said
softly. "She never meant to wound you."
"She did not wound me," Inas murmured. "She
opened my eyes to the truth."
Shereen stared, sventi leaf halfway to
her lips.
"You do not find the truth a fearsome thing,
then, sister?" she asked, and it was Inas who looked away this
time.
"The truth is merely a statement of what
is," she said, repeating the most basic of her father's lessons,
and wishing that her voice did not tremble so. "Once the truth is
known, it can be accepted. Truth defines the order of the universe.
By accepting truth, we accept the will of the gods."
Shereen ate her leaf in silence. "It must be
a wonderful thing to be a scholar," she said then, "and have no
reason to fear." She smiled, wearily.
"Give you sweet slumber, sister. The morrow
will be upon us too soon."
She went away, robes rustling, leaving Inas
alone with the truth.
* * *
THE TRUTH, BEING BRIGHT,
held Inas from sleep, until at last she sat up within her chatrue , lit her fragrant
lamp, and had the books of her own studies down from the
shelf.
In the doubled brightness, she read until
the astronomer on his distant column announced the sighting of the
Trio of morning with his baleful song.
She read as a scholar would, from books to
which her father,
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