Amais remembered the silk-swathed rooms of her grandmother’s house, the scrolls of poetry in a foreign tongue, the scent of alien incense.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said carefully, too young to analyse the thing completely, aware that she could not defend it in the face of the practical questions of her playmates because they simply could not understand it.
‘My mother says you’re strange,’ Ennea said.
But she had still been willing to stay Amais’s friend and companion for all that, and no more was said on the matter, at least for the time being.
Dan had been cremated, on Vien’s insistence and with considerable trouble – since the body had had to be removed from the island in order for this to be accomplished, and getting the necessary permits was not a totally straightforward matter. In this, the established Syai community in Elaas stepped in to offer a helping hand – and that might have compensated for much, being welcomed back into her own world after choosing to step out of it for Nikos’s sake. But the relations between Vien and her own people remained formal and a little cool. It was as though Amais’s dilemmas were projected onto her mother, written much larger than those plaguing her own small self. Amais was still a child, and therefore obliged only to obey the instructions of those older and wiser than her – but Vien was an adult, with an adult’s decisions to make. Decisions that would affect not only her own life but those of the people who depended on her – her two daughters.
And it soon became apparent that there was yet another voice, perhaps the most forceful of all, that guided Vien’s choices – the insistent ghost of her mother.
When Vien first said the word ‘home’ and meant something other than the small cottage by the sea where she lived with Elena and the children, Amais almost missed it – but there was something in Vien’s face, a soft and yet steely determination that frightened her into paying much closer attention.
The wind of change started blowing quite softly, nearly imperceptibly.
‘I must take Mother home.’
That had been the innocuous sentence that let the first breath of moving air into the cold, stagnant little house, which was thus demoted, without ceremony, into a temporary dwelling. No longer the ‘home’ that Amais had known – the only home that she had ever known.
Elena did miss it, that first time. She simply ignored it, like she ignored so many things in those days. She ignored Vien’s views on how her younger daughter should be dressed, fed, disciplined. She ignored Vien’s older daughter altogether. She tried hard to ignore Vien’s white clothes and the white ribbon she wore woven into that incongruous glossy smooth black hair that now hung long and loose down Vien’s back.
But it quickly became too big to ignore. Mysterious people with inscrutable faces and round dark eyes came to call on Vien at Elena’s cottage, treating Elena herself with scrupulously correct if icy politeness. Vien herself would disappear for several days at a time to the mainland, her only word on her absence that she had ‘arrangements’ to make. When she returned to the island after her final visit to the mainland, she carried something in a large envelope, clutched to her breast as though the contents were more precious than jewels.
That time even Elena had to notice.
‘What do you have there?’ she asked in the voice she now customarily used with Vien when she spoke to her at all, clipped and brusque, as though she had judged her daughter-in-law of some crime and found her unforgivably guilty.
‘Tickets,’ Vien said. ‘We’re going home, the three of us and Mother. Back to Syai.’
Everyone looked up at that, Amais in stark astonishment and Elena with something indefinable that was equal parts fury and fear.
‘It’s a long, wasted journey for a baby to make,’ Elena said at last after a moment of silence, riding her emotions on a tight rein. ‘Really, Vien. Your mother lived on these shores all of her life. She can hardly object to being buried in those hills now.’
‘Did she?’ Vien questioned softly, and Amais began to pay much closer attention. This was starting to sound a lot like the frustrating conversations she had had with her friends out at the rock pools, dressed in her inconvenient white ‘mourning’ garb. ‘I don’t think she ever quite lived here. Not really.’
‘She was born here,’ Elena snapped. ‘As far as I know, she never set foot in Syai.’
‘Her body, no,’ Vien said. ‘But her spirit…I do not think her spirit ever left Syai. She was half a woman all of her days, yearning back to the things that made her who she was. She deserves to rest there, in peace at last.’
‘Syai is a long way to take the child to a funeral,’ Elena said crisply.
Amais bowed her head to hide the sudden tears that welled in her eyes. There was only one child in Elena’s mind, and it was not herself.
Her little sister, untroubled by all this, slept in her crib, oblivious to the conflict around her and about her. She would never know, Amais thought. She was too young for any of this to have meaning. She had never known her father, could never remember him.
‘It is a long way, yes,’ Vien said, and lifted her head, meeting her mother-in-law’s eyes. ‘But it isn’t just a funeral that we would go for, Mother-in-law. We go…to stay.’
Elena’s eyes widened for a moment, in pure shock that she could not hide, and then narrowed again and hardened until they were chips of obsidian in her set face.
‘I forbid it,’ she said, dropping each word like a pebble. Amais could almost hear them rattle as they rolled around on the floor at the women’s feet.
‘I’m sorry,’ Vien said, ‘but you cannot. It is not your place.’
‘This is my son’s child,’ Elena said, crossing the room and snatching up the sleeping toddler out of her crib. Nika woke up abruptly, knuckled her eyes with her hands and began to whimper softly as though Elena’s hands were clutching claws locked around her, holding on tight.
‘It is my child,’ Vien said. ‘And here she would always be wangmei, just like…just like I was.’
‘What are you talking about? What is that? She is my son’s daughter, the last thing of his that I have on this earth. She is no wing…whatever that is.’
‘Wangmei,’ Vien repeated patiently, standing her ground. ‘It means “stranger of the body”, an outsider, someone who obviously does not belong in a community. Someone different. Look at her and tell me how she will fit in here in a few years’ time, when she’s grown enough to want playmates, friends.’
‘Amais never had a problem,’ Elena said defensively, bringing her other granddaughter into the discussion for the first time, but only out of desperation, sacrificing her as a pawn to keep her claim on the younger, the precious one, the now openly wailing toddler in her arms. Amais’s eyes were wide, her mouth parted, her heart beating painfully fast.
‘Amais, korimou…’ Vien said, letting a quick and strangely soft glance rest on her oldest for a moment. She had used the word Amais’s father had called her – it was hard to tell whether she had done it deliberately or instinctively, but either way it suddenly sounded strange to Amais, coming from her mother’s lips. ‘Would you let your grandmother and I talk alone? I’ll come and find you in a few moments.’
‘But, Mother…’
‘Please, Amais-ban. It is important.’
Amais slipped off the chair where she had been perched trying very hard to be invisible and dragged herself outside with unwilling obedience. But this concerned her – this was her life they were discussing in there! – so she didn’t go far. She merely turned the corner and crouched underneath the window. It was shuttered against the sun, but beyond the shutters the window was open and it was