The Secrets of Jin-Shei. Alma Alexander

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       Seven

      ‘For the love of all the Gods, Khailin, and for the last time – not today! The Chancellor …;’

      Khailin’s face set in mutinous lines. ‘The Chancellor! That means I won’t see you until nightfall, and that means I don’t get my lesson today.’

      ‘Think of it as a day of rest,’ said her father, with some impatience. Then he smoothed the frown off his forehead, and sighed. ‘Khailin, knowing your hacha letters is not going to magically –’

      ‘I know,’ Khailin said. ‘I know what it won’t do for me. But there is so much out there that I want to know, and that I will never know if I can’t …;’

      She faltered under her father’s rather stern gaze. ‘And you do remember, I trust, that these lessons are based on a proper attitude on your part. I will not have you interrupting me, Khailin. It shows disrespect to your parents.’

      ‘Yes, Father,’ Khailin said, resigned.

      ‘Good. That’s settled, then. We will resume our lessons when I return from the Palace. In the meantime, I suggest that you pursue your …; other responsibilities. I will have to speak to your mother about that. Within a year or two you may well be married and will have no time for indulging such whims as books and studies.’

      Khailin bowed to her father with the exact degree of respect that was required, keeping her eyes lowered so that he wouldn’t see the rebellion in them. Cheleh, Court Chronicler, permitted himself one affectionate feather-like brush of his hand on his daughter’s hair before bowing back to her with the proper degree of acknowledgement and leaving her alone in her chamber.

      When the door safely closed behind him, Khailin picked up a tasselled cushion from her bed and threw it against the wall with a muted cry. She had just come to an interesting section of a text her father did not know she had purloined from his scroll library, and she had become thoroughly bogged down in it. She had hoped to wheedle some information from him that day, without letting on that she had the scroll, of course, and finish reading the text that evening. It was an old astronomical treatise, written by a Sage from a long-dead Emperor’s court; Khailin could tell, even with her inability to completely understand, that much of it was already obsolete, but there had been several descriptions in there which matched something she had been able to observe herself in the night sky with the distance viewer her father had in his study. She had hoped that she would be able to extract enough information from this scroll to confirm her own observations, and perhaps find out where she could obtain more recent material on one particular celestial object which had caught her fancy, a red-gold sphere with an annulus around it.

      She had started wheedling her father to teach her hacha-ashu, the script of the common tongue, when she first realized that jin-ashu, the script her mother had been dutifully teaching her since she had turned four years old, was not the language in which the really interesting things were written. Jin-ashu was a woman’s language, and it was the heart of a woman’s world. Its writings tended to be confined to poetry, legends, stories, the wisdom of hearth and home, letters between jin-shei sisters (whether separated by the length and breadth of Syai or three streets apart in the same city). Jin-ashu dealt with the everyday and the commonplace, the household chatter of wives and mothers, the pouring out of an unrequited love or the transports of delight of a new wife just initiated into the pleasures of marriage. Khailin had seen a few of the latter, although she was still to undergo her Xat-Wau coming of age ceremony and was considered far too young for what were sometimes frankly erotic letters between grown and sexually initiated women. But Khailin read what interested her, and if she could sneak an astronomy treatise out of her father’s treasured library, her mother’s stacks of jin-ashu letters were a considerably simpler problem to riffle until she found material that caught her eye. She knew considerably more than either of her parents suspected about what awaited her as a young woman who was rapidly approaching marriageable age.

      In fact, she had already started keeping an eye out for likely prospects – young men sufficiently learned to have access to the things that she wanted to find out, or wealthy enough to buy such access, or both. Unfortunately most of the younger suitors she had considered – the ones her parents would consider suitable – were also dismissed early, on the grounds that they were simply too boring to be of any interest. Khailin wondered if she would be able to hold out for a husband who might be considerably older than her but whose age would be traded off for the fact that he could be more easily cajoled by a young wife to allow her to do the things that Khailin had every intention of continuing to do. Study. Read.

      A diffident knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, and at her barked call of admittance a servant, hands together and bowing deeply to her young mistress, came in to announce that СКАЧАТЬ