way.
Mariata stared after him. ‘What does he mean? Indeed, is he a he?’
‘Tana?’ Rahma smiled. ‘We have no word for what Tana is. I have heard strangers called her an homme-femme , but that does her no justice. God has blessed her twice over, shall we say. In her is to be found the perfect symmetry between the genders and she is a most remarkable person. Sometimes she knows more than normal people know. She was the daughter of our smith, when the village was wealthy enough to keep one of its own, and when he died she stayed and carries out some of an enad ’s duties.’
The inadan were smiths and masters of mystic ritual: a resident smith would oversee ceremonies, kill the sacrificial goats, command the fires and work the things of iron that no Kel Tagelmust, and certainly no woman, could safely touch.
‘Can she not heal Amastan?’
‘She went to see him once after he returned; after that she would not go near him.’
Mariata digested this silently. After a while she asked, ‘And what did she mean about a complete head?’
‘It’s what we say sometimes about an apprentice of medicine coming of age, when their knowledge is complete.’
Mariata felt the panic rising again. ‘But I have no learning of medicine! I’ve never apprenticed at anything.’
‘There are some things that cannot be learnt: gifts from on high; gifts that run in the blood.’ Rahma took her by the arm as if she feared Mariata might run away; and suddenly Mariata was filled with fear: fear that Rahma’s son might be mad and raving, frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, prone to bouts of violence. She was afraid too that he might look quite normal, except for the dancing of the spirits in his eyes. She was afraid she would have no effect on him, that despite her grand ancestry she would be found to be quite an ordinary girl after all. And somehow that possibility was the worst fear of all.
*
Beyond the last of the tents, huts and animal enclosures lay a grove of olive trees, and beyond that, across a stretch of rock-strewn ground, a makeshift shelter had been erected between a pair of tamarisk trees, little more than a simple frame of branches draped with blankets and old grain sacks. In the shade beneath this, Mariata could make out the figure of a man in a black robe and a tightly wound tagelmust that left only a sliver of his face visible, a sliver through which a pair of dark eyes glittered balefully.
The man sat cross-legged on the ground, unmoving, his hands clasped in his lap. He did not change his attitude as they approached, making no effort to greet them in any way. He did not even respond when Rahma crouched beside him and laid a hand against his cheek.
‘Blessings on you, Amastan, my son. You look better than when I left you, I am sure of it. Just take a little rice and milk to cool the excess of heat that is in you.’
She laid the bowl down on the ground beside an untouched dish of bread and dates. He did not so much as glance at it.
‘And see, I have brought you something else as well, a visitor from far away. Mariata ult Yemma ult Tofenat of the Kel Taitok, descended straight and true from Tin Hinan. She has crossed the Tamesna just to see you. Won’t you rise and greet her and make her welcome as befits the master of the house?’
She was attempting to humour him, Mariata saw, for this was no house, and he was clearly master of nothing, including his own wits. She scanned what little she could see of his narrow brown face through the slit in his veil, seeing only that the bones lay close to the surface, that his eyebrows were well formed and that while he was expressionless the crow’s feet at the outer corners of his eyes stood out pale against the dark tan of his skin. He did not, now they were close up, look frightening at all, she thought with some relief, and was just beginning to relax when his gaze flickered away from the ground at which he had been staring so fixedly and came to rest upon her
Mariata stared after him. ‘What does he mean? Indeed, is he a he?’
‘Tana?’ Rahma smiled. ‘We have no word for what Tana is. I have heard strangers called her an homme-femme , but that does her no justice. God has blessed her twice over, shall we say. In her is to be found the perfect symmetry between the genders and she is a most remarkable person. Sometimes she knows more than normal people know. She was the daughter of our smith, when the village was wealthy enough to keep one of its own, and when he died she stayed and carries out some of an enad ’s duties.’
The inadan were smiths and masters of mystic ritual: a resident smith would oversee ceremonies, kill the sacrificial goats, command the fires and work the things of iron that no Kel Tagelmust, and certainly no woman, could safely touch.
‘Can she not heal Amastan?’
‘She went to see him once after he returned; after that she would not go near him.’
Mariata digested this silently. After a while she asked, ‘And what did she mean about a complete head?’
‘It’s what we say sometimes about an apprentice of medicine coming of age, when their knowledge is complete.’
Mariata felt the panic rising again. ‘But I have no learning of medicine! I’ve never apprenticed at anything.’
‘There are some things that cannot be learnt: gifts from on high; gifts that run in the blood.’ Rahma took her by the arm as if she feared Mariata might run away; and suddenly Mariata was filled with fear: fear that Rahma’s son might be mad and raving, frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog, prone to bouts of violence. She was afraid too that he might look quite normal, except for the dancing of the spirits in his eyes. She was afraid she would have no effect on him, that despite her grand ancestry she would be found to be quite an ordinary girl after all. And somehow that possibility was the worst fear of all.
*
Beyond the last of the tents, huts and animal enclosures lay a grove of olive trees, and beyond that, across a stretch of rock-strewn ground, a makeshift shelter had been erected between a pair of tamarisk trees, little more than a simple frame of branches draped with blankets and old grain sacks. In the shade beneath this, Mariata could make out the figure of a man in a black robe and a tightly wound tagelmust that left only a sliver of his face visible, a sliver through which a pair of dark eyes glittered balefully.
The man sat cross-legged on the ground, unmoving, his hands clasped in his lap. He did not change his attitude as they approached, making no effort to greet them in any way. He did not even respond when Rahma crouched beside him and laid a hand against his cheek.
‘Blessings on you, Amastan, my son. You look better than when I left you, I am sure of it. Just take a little rice and milk to cool the excess of heat that is in you.’
She laid the bowl down on the ground beside an untouched dish of bread and dates. He did not so much as glance at it.
‘And see, I have brought you something else as well, a visitor from far away. Mariata ult Yemma ult Tofenat of the Kel Taitok, descended straight and true from Tin Hinan. She has crossed the Tamesna just to see you. Won’t you rise and greet her and make her welcome as befits the master of the house?’
She was attempting to humour him, Mariata saw, for this was no house, and he was clearly master of nothing, including his own wits. She scanned what little she could see of his narrow brown face through the slit in his veil, seeing only that the bones lay close to the surface, that his eyebrows were well formed and that while he was expressionless the crow’s feet at the outer corners of his eyes stood out pale against the dark tan of his skin. He did not, now they were close up, look frightening at all, she thought with some relief, and was just beginning to relax when his gaze flickered away from the ground at which he had been staring so fixedly and came to rest upon her
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