"I want the Hattavah"
Keilah
The Burning would happen today, after all.
From the arched window in her chambers, Keilah saw the soldiers carrying her mother's body in through the metal-clad front gate. They must have marched without pause through the night to get here so fast. They still sang that haunting funeral song. A crowd of slaves, servants and even some lesser Wayvolkan gathered to bow before her mother's body and sing too. If only she could join in, but the intricacies of the the four-part harmony eluded her.
"Get my blood-red gown," she told Alyssia who scurried to obey, helping her into the flowing dress. At the thought of the funeral ahead, so different from the village-style Remembering, Keilah felt suddenly uneasy.
"Do you think he'll be there?" she asked Alyssia who had begun pinning her hair so it would sit neatly beneath the blood-red mourning cap.
"Who?"
"The Hattavah."
"I don't know," Alyssia said though her amber eyes seemed to brighten. "He could be guarding Lord Rustavan."
"I need him there." Keilah's voice faltered. "He's the only one who knew my mother like I did."
Alyssia's eyes widened but she did not press for further details. "I'm sure you can order him there if you want him."
Order him? Of course. Keilah relaxed. As the heir, she could demand his presence. He'd want to be there to grieve alongside her. Perhaps he'd even hold her hand like he had Alyssia's.
Her confidence restored, she made her way to the priestess's section of the House. Behind her, Alyssia carried a small wooden bowl in preparation for her part in The Burning.
Her Baba was waiting for her in the sparse entrance-way to the priestess's twelve rooms. A mixture of relief and annoyance crossed her face on seeing Keilah. "There you are dear, at last."
Together they went into the third room which was long, narrow and windowless. Keilah coughed as the thick smoke from the burning tapers rushed up her nose and into her mouth. When she finally could breath freely, she scanned the room. It was crowded with the unfriendly relatives she'd met the night before - the lesser uncles and their wives and her mother's older cousins, but the Hattavah was not with Lord Rustavan. She looked at all the slaves at the edges of the room. He was not there either.
"I want the Hattavah." Keilah tried to whisper but in the stillness of the room her voice sounded too loud.
Lord Rustavan, on the other side of her grandmother, leaned towards her with a nasty smirk. "He's not yours to command; he's mine. If you want to spend time with him, you'll have to pay for him just like all the others."
She held his small spiteful eyes for a moment, trying to convey the force of her disappointment before nodding. "I'll pay for him then to be here." It would be worth every last coin Baba had given her to have him share this moment of grief with her.
Lord Rustavan gave her a mock-frown. "Unfortunately he's away for the day, off arranging your entry to the Vixen Trials."
Keilah scrunched her face and turned away, not wanting him to see the tears pricking her eyes. She'd have to bear this alone.
As if on cue, the priestess paraded into the room carrying a large glass urn full of blood. Four tall slave girls followed, bringing in her mother's body and placing it on the stone platform in the middle of the room. Only her mother's head was uncovered, but Keilah could not bear to look at it.
Baba put her soft old hand on Keliah's arm. She put her hand on top of her grandmother's, drawing comfort from its warmth and a newfound sense of solidarity. Her Baba mourned too.
The priestess sprinkled blood on her mother's stinky corpse and said, "Here lies Lady Melisane." Her stately tones contrasted with her blood-stained white robe and shaggy dyed-blonde hair. "She was a traitor to us for most of her life, but she repented at the end."
All the tears that had welled up in Keilah's throat, vanished in her outrage. How dare she?
"Lady Melisane will not dance with the great She-Fox in the afterlife. She will merely crawl in and sit at the feet of the faithful, whimpering for the crumbs from their table," the priestess continued. She dipped her fingers in the blood in the urn then wiped them all over her mother's face. "Lady Melisane could have ruled this House, but instead she deserted her duties. She did not offer the required amount of blood."
The priestess's voice rose in a shriek, "See how she died - without the victory that comes from the Fox, alone in a village of thieves and slaves and outcasts. Despised. Rejected even by them. Only when she suffered from the fever did she come sniveling back to us, seeking our mercy despite offering nothing in return."
This was too much. Keilah took a step forward, even while her grandmother's grip tightened on her arm. "She was loved. She was admired by everyone in the village."
The priestess hissed at her, "She betrayed her own people and denied our faith."
A confusion of tears and anger wrestled in Keilah's chest, making her say in a softer tone, "She wanted to die like a Wayvolkan Lady."
Her relatives all stared at her. If they'd really loved her mother why didn't they speak too? Why didn't they defend her? If they didn't love her why where they here?
"Of course," the priestess sneered. "She wanted all the benefits and none of the cost."
Her grandmother's hand pressed down on her mouth with surprising strength. She struggled against it for a moment then went still. How could she fight her aged grandmother, her main ally in the House? "Continue," her grandmother commanded. "She'll be quiet now."
And quiet Keilah was, holding her tongue even as her mother's body was set on fire. The room cheered and clapped while tears raced down her face. Her mother must have been delirious from the fever after all. She could not have possibly wanted her funeral to be like this.
The slaves that had ringed the room now shuffled on their knees towards the still-burning body, scooping the fallen ash into their wooden bowls. Alyssia was last to fill hers, bending her head backwards to avoid the heat from the flames. She brought her bowl to Keilah who put her finger in and traced a line with the ash from her forehead to her chin, straight down the middle as the ritual required.
"This life-ash is your link to Lady Melisane," the Priestess intoned. "Call on her if you need her help, but be warned. If she has a grudge against you she will howl against you. Even traitors have the right to do that. Put the life-ash on your face and she can find you."
A shudder ran through the crowd and most left their faces clean. Even Lord Rustavan waved his bowl away. Her Baba too hesitated, but under Keilah's watchful eyes drew her line with a trembling hand.
"I don't know if she loved me or hated me when she left," her Baba murmured. "But surely caring for her daughter now will mitigate all the wrongs she thinks I've done."
Keilah bit her lip and did not reply. Her mother had ranted against her grandmother a number of times but towards the end, she'd spoken of her in kinder terms. With a final flourish the priestess left the room, the flames on her mother's body were doused and the other guests began to disperse.
Her Baba rubbed the ash off her face and Keilah copied her. How she longed to stay with her mother's body and offer her praise and thanks for her life. Yet instead she was ushered out into the hallway by the slaves of the priestess. She almost bumped right into the Hattavah. A faint whiff of horse clung to him and a weariness seemed to be etched around his eyes.
"My Lady." He inclined his head. "Do you know where my master is?"
Keilah wanted to bury herself in his chest. She wanted to drag him into the room to see what remained of her mother. She wanted to do her own village Remembering just with him. She paused and he looked at her with an odd expression. No doubt the ash was still smeared all over her face.
"You've had the funeral for your mother," he said quietly.
"I wanted you there."
"I would have come if I could." Then he added in a different, hurried tone, "I have spoken to Lord Rustavan about the need for you to have a bodyguard. He's given permission for me to assign you Jalen."
Alyssia stiffened.
"Jalen," Keilah said softly. "A good choice, thank you."
"Hattavah," Lord Rustavan called. Dakkoul bowed once more his sad eyes still holding hers and his expression changed, so that the sharp grief she felt and her all yearning for him found its echo on his face. He gave her hand one quick squeeze before scurrying off to attend his master.
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