The ten minute walk from the jewellers to the modiste set Kijani’s ribs on fire, but he’d be damned if he let Chantria find out. Holding open the door the soldier let his wife enter first. The bell announcing their arrival was so familiar to the soldier he didn’t hear it. The lighting, was ambient rather than bright. The room was painted cream and smelled as stale as the old man staring through a magnifying glass mounted into his eye socket. A stately man stood creakily and tucked one hand behind his back. He stood like a lord about to ask a lady to dance.
“Good morning Master Abara, am I correct in assuming this is your bride?” the old gentleman said, speaking as if from another time.
“I presume the canopy ladies have been through town?” Kijani said, taking on the stiff tone he used with the rest of the crown.
The Jeweller gave him a small smile. “Naturally, the honoured ladies of the canopy were twittering their excitement at a new addition to their circle.”
The canopy was the ruling class of the crown, the ladies set the trends and gate keep the social sphere. Advancing in any profession as a member of the crown was hard without a woman behind you. Networking and family management was the woman’s job and it occurred to him that Chantria might need some lessons in the finer points of social etiquette. She wasn’t from his world and something told him her former guardian shirked so much of his duty it was disgusting. At least she seemed to know the basics.
Kijani’s amicable smile tensed and he gritted his teeth behind the mask of heavy formality. “I’m glad we missed them, my poor wife would be bombarded.”
“Quite. So, how can I help Master Abara?”
“My wife and I were just at the modiste and Madam Orvue suggested we get some cuffs to match the dress.”
“I’m sure I can find you a suitable piece madam..?”
“Apologies. Master Zadzisai, this is my wife Chantria Keita-Abara. We’re looking for a set of bangles for her introduction tomorrow.”
Zadzisai automatically picked out some suitable pieces from the display beneath him. Thee crown wasn’t wealthy, but they were skilled. Most of his class lived off their estate and, though they clothed themselves in good cloth, they didn’t adorn themselves like the middle rung. The crown’s taste was more practical than showy, they didn’t have the funds to play with gold. Charity was emphasized in the crown, so every extra penny was invested back in to the government in the name of good order. A stipend of profit and good will was issued to them at the end of each year. It’s how is family survived the quiet slaughter of old blood descendants. However, given the increase in casualties from poisoning over the years, his line might be given the stipend they were really due in the near future.
Kijani glanced at the ornate black knife mounted on the wall above Zadzisai’s till. It was made of rippling poison concentrated in to hardened steel. The hilt was sealed with a tree encircled with roots. The weapon could poison even one of the old blood descendants with one blow. The slaughter weakened the army and it hadn’t gone unnoticed that Kijani and his brothers were luckier than most in surviving their injuries. It was more reason for the Canopy to be keeping close watch on them, and make sure they meld to good stock. Chantria will be the subject of scrutiny at her introduction. He didn’t know what they would do if they found her below par.
He watched Chantria make polite small talk with Zadzisai. His bright eyed wife kept all conversation to the jewels and on the jeweller himself. Giving very little of herself away his bride liked to leave herself a mystery by wearing a mirage of boredom. A good tactic for the middle-class backstabbers, but not for the canopy of royals.
“So, Madam Keita, how did you and Master Abara meet? We have all been waiting with bated breath for one of Jambulani’s son’s to match at the gatherings, but the festivities are over for yet another year.”
Chantria kept her eyes on the glimmering ghost wood bangles. Apparently fascinated by the rippling lines and crystal structure. “We met while I was working at The Timber.”
“I see, all honest work is good work, as my grandmother used to say.” The Jeweller declared with a hint of derision.
“I agree entirely. This ghost wood is beautiful. Isn’t it carved from ash and then transmuted by magic?”
Zadzisai raised a manicured eyebrow. “Indeed, my wife was a distinguished craftswoman and then joined the ranks of sorcery after our melding. We are largely retired now, this shop is more of a hobby really.”
“It must be lovely working together on a passion project.”
Kijani sighed. The canopy want those who join their ranks to be distinguished. A woman with her own business despite difficult circumstances was a subject for admiration within the crown. It would bring his little family an inordinate amount of prestige, secure his advancement, set his children up for success… And make sure his line lived. At the moment, the crown saw his family as a fucking breeding project.
The soldier knew he wasn’t book smart, his athair trained him as a tactician, he preferred directing troops and getting in the thick of the action on the field. Good traits for a man born in to a military family, but he needed a woman’s subtlety to manage the politics or he’d sink. Chantria had to impress tomorrow.
“Not many people know of the manufacturing process Madam Keita, where did you learn?” Kijani heard Zadzisai say.
“I took a brief interest at University.”
Kijani snapped out of his brooding and started paying attention. Chantria looked a little rattled.
“Ah, an alumni. May I see your pen, madam?”
Kijani gritted his teeth. It was unusual to ask to see the pen of an alumni, it was an unlikely thing to lie about as the dishonour was more than the short term prestige gained. Once found out, the social penalty was severe. No one would employ you after such a lie and your families reputation was ruined. It was the height of sin to steal honour that does not belong to you.
The soldier watched his wife fish out her pen and prick her finger on the needle hidden beneath the pen cap. Graduate pens are attuned to the blood of the one they’re issued to. The glow when the pen comes into contact with the blood functions as proof of authenticity and ownership.
Chantria handed over the pen without a word and picked a bandage out of the front pocket of her bag.
Kijani was forced to hide a smile as the blush settled on the old jewellers face. “My apologies madam, I never intended to question your integrity.”
"Your intention doesn’t matter to me sir. I wish to keep my family reputation out of public debate.”
The jewellers blush deepened and Kijani didn’t bother to hide a derisive grin. At least Chan knows what her job is.
“I understand completely madam. However, it begs the question: what is an alumni doing working for The Timber? And a triple majour? By the roots.”
“I have my own business, sir. I don’t work for The Timber, I work out of The Timber. I simply prefer to working in the café.”
The old goat handed the pen back as if it were a hot coal. “What do you think of this piece madam? I have a matching set if you would like to part take Master Abara.”
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Kijani raised an eyebrow at the two sets of matching ghost wood bracelets. They were pretty pieces, but not for him. “Maybe some other time Master Zadzisai. What do you think of the pieces Chantria?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet.” Chantria replied, but he followed her gaze to a set of ghost cuff bracelets who’s lines were inset with gold. The ghost wood was of good quality, opaque and simmering in rainbows The rest of the bracelets were inlaid with jewels of varying colours, but there was beauty in simplicity. His wife had good taste and they were well within budget.
“What about these ones?”
“They’re not in my size.”
“I can have my wife resize them madam. It’s not a problem.” Master Zadzisai said taking the set from him.
“But we would need them for tomorrow morning.”
“It’s a quick job madam, it’s really no trouble.
His wife paused one finger on her lower lip in obvious consideration. “As long as it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s not madam. It takes less than 5 minutes for my wife to resize a band. May I take some measurements?”
His bride held out a hand and flinched as the measuring tape wrapped around her wrist. The old man took his que from Chantria and noted down the measurements as fast as possible. For all Zadzisai could be a suspicious prick, he wasn’t uncaring and neither was Kijani. Something ain’t right… but he shook the thought out of his head for now and put it in a mental box until later. He still had to make his wife comfortable at home.
~*~
Kijani threw in the towel for the walk back. He hid the pain from the broken rib well enough but the concentration this required was sapping his strength faster than the injury itself. The soldier briefly thought of going back to the medic and asking for some damned painkillers. Then he remembered all the soldiers that were discharged for addiction. The state wouldn’t help him if he didn’t work. As the man of the house, his wages were meant for his family and the state would supplement his income dependent on the amount of children his union produced. Chantria could support and something told him his wife didn’t have a problem contributing to their family, but it was his job. The soldier’s roles was to provide and Chantria’s role was to nurture the family. A good 70% of the provision for his family had to come from him. That’s not to say he thought of Chantria’s contribution as less than his. Her role was to maintain the mental welfare of the family and therefore not to be underestimated.
The soldier smiled. Since the Meld he felt the spark of magic accelerating his healing process. Magic users were in short supply and once he finished his training next month, given his military record and lineage he was looking at a big promotion to his father’s division. Battle tactics was what he was good at. If only talking to Chantria wasn’t like a battle of wits.
Kijani leaned back against the upholstered seat. “Hey Chan, mathair expects us in the main house for meals, but we have a few hours. Want me to help you get settled?” Chan mentioned she didn’t have ‘a lot’ of clothes and he wanted to see what else she didn’t have ‘a lot’ of. The soldier was sure her uncle didn’t do his duty and provide for the girls in his care.
“There isn’t a lot to put away Kijani, I can manage.”
“That ain’t the point and you know it.”
Chantria gave him a look and sighed. “If you must.”
“I gotta know what you need so I can provide. You do your job and I’ll do mine. You back me and I provide and protect. That’s the deal. You ain’t under your uncles banner anymore.”
“I still have to work, Kijani.”
The soldier restrained his temper. “I ain’t gonna stop you from doing whatever you wanna to do. I’ll have a talk with you if it’s potentially bad for the family. Like, if you want to go out at night, I might say you should wait until morning, but I ain’t locking you in a room. Our family is my priority.”
“As it is mine.”
“I’m glad we agree. So, I don’t need to help you put anything away, you can tell me what you need or you can get it yourself, but presenting yourself as without resources I can and should provide makes me and our family look bad.”
Kijani leaned back and let that sink in. Family was the foundation of the Church of Ash and the foundation of society. Family is responsibility and you can’t have rights without responsibility. Some people, like Chantria’s uncle, pervert this. He was responsible for making sure the girls were cared for, but instead he sat at home while his wards worked. At least that’s what Kijani surmised given the disgraced officer Ayele Keita was unemployed and the sisters were never presented at the gatherings. If the disgraced sergeant had presented all three girls, it was likely they would all be married and in their own households. Their uncle would then only be minimally provided for as the needs of the girls primary family took over. He and their children would be Chantria’s primary family now.
“I’ll likely need more clothing and an office space for my work. I can get those myself.”
“I can clear a space in our out house and I have a desk you can use, the main house kitchen is a bit loud for meetings. Clothing will have to be approved by the family, we won’t force you to wear something you don’t like, but there is a dress code in our circles. Mathair will give you a crash course in etiquette tomorrow morning.”
Chantria stared at the wood panelled floor of the carriage. “Kijani, this is all quite a lot at once.”
The soldier paused and analysed what his wife’s body was telling him. His bride was tense, and avoided his eyes by firmly staring out the window behind him. Chantria subtly shrunk away from him. He reached out to her to and she flinched as if expecting him to hit her.
Eyes widening he stared at his bride and thought back on the last few days. When he first met her. He’d went to the Timber with his comrades after his shift. As usual, he was the oldest one there and, having just been passed over for a promotion in favour of a married man his comrades were fucking razzing him. Then he saw Chantria take her glasses on and felt a spark. Fuelled by frustration and high on adrenaline from the earlier fight he was far too aggressive. Then he broke his fucking rib when he got called back to the wall.
It dawned on Kijani he was being an arsehole. He’d pushed her along with little regard for how she felt with all these sudden changes. He rubbed the tension from his face and took a deep breath shame tightening his stomach. “I’m sorry Chan, I’ve had a traumatic couple of days and my rib is gnawing at my patience. That isn’t an excuse, but can we start again?”
His wife paused, tilting her head to one side in silent contemplation. “I understand, and I forgive you, but I can’t say it’s ok.”
Kijani bit his lip and nodded. The woman had a point. “I understand, what do you need?”
“Could you leave me alone to unpack. I’d like some time to process.”
Kijani felt her words like a kick in the ribs, but he nodded. “I’ll show you where everything is and you can put your stuff away. We’ll work out what you need later?”
Chantria nodded and the carriage came to an easy stop.
~*~
True to his word the soldier showed Chantria the outhouse. It was very plainly decorated, the walls were painted in different shades of grey and crème. The furniture was old, but grandly matured by careful use, yet the outhouse didn’t feel like Kijani lived in it. From observation she didn’t think the décor suited him, but it matched the décor in the main house. Meaning it was likely left over from before Kijani moved in and he simply never bothered to change anything. The only touches of his she could see were in the bedding, densely woven black cotton bedeck a perfectly made bed and, on close inspection, the place was immaculately clean. Chantria’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure she was able to keep this up with children and her work. “Kijani? What is your position on cleanliness?”
“Piuthar-mathair helps with that, as long as things aren’t covered in grime it’s fine. We’ll have kids soon and kids are messy. We both have jobs. We’ll drive ourselves crazy trying to keep the place up to show home standard on our own.”
Chantria dared to give him a small smile. “That’s good, I’d prefer to concentrate on the children.”
“Yes ma’am.” Kijani said with a boyish smile and continued his tour of their outhouse.
Chantria was left to unpack her things in peace as Kijani promised. Though he wasn’t far away, she could hear him snoring in his chair in the sun room from two rooms away. His aunt was going to come and get them for dinner.
It didn’t take long for the editor to pack her few belongings into the oak dresser. Kijani proudly told her he spent an hour cleaning after fishing it down from the attic. Staring up at the clock the editor found she had a couple of hours till dinner and remembered she really needed a bath. Chantria hadn’t had one at home for years and instead bought a pass to the gymnasium to use the showers. She was too terrified of Ayele stepping in while she bathed. He removed the lock years ago out of ‘concern’ he couldn’t reach them if there was an accident, it was easy to slip on wet tiles. Chantria briefly thought about sneaking out to the gym for a shower, it was only five minutes away… but Kijani was sleeping and the bath was just too tempting for her tense muscles.
It didn’t take long to fill the cast iron tub which stood on lions paws beneath a metal tap. The warm water eased ache’s she didn’t know she had and the rhythmic snoring of her husband nearly sent the editor to sleep. Sighing, Chantria forced herself out of the bath far sooner than she would have liked. Wrapped in a white cotton towel the night haired editor towel dried her hair. Doing her best to avoid her reflection's sapphire gaze and thus sight of her body the editor concentrated on meticulously braiding and tying her hair in a bun.
Chantria didn’t notice her husband's snores stopping and the footsteps coming toward the bathroom. She ignored the doors creaking as a symptom of an old home and wiped the steam off her condescending reflection and froze. A first the veil of a long buried memory tricked her in to seeing Ayele in the doorway. Then the foggy veil of memory cleared and revealed Kijani standing behind her in the mirror.
“Who did this?” He said through gritted teeth staring straight at her scarred wrists.