Yalda said, “Tell me about my brother.”
“Lucio? He and Lucia were going to move to their own farm. Vito was going with them. But now…” Ada stopped, unsure what she should say.
“I know about Vito,” Yalda said gently. No one had bothered to tell her when Aurelia’s life had ended, or Claudia’s. Only Vito’s demise counted as a death, worthy of mourning.
When they walked into the clearing, Yalda was overcome with sadness. Even eight exuberant new children could not make up for the three missing faces.
When she’d embraced everyone, Giusto said, “You should have brought your co-stead, he would have been welcome.”
Yalda made a sound that she hoped expressed no more than gratitude at this proposition in the abstract. Although she had never tried to correct the assumption that she was in Zeugma to hunt for a co-stead as much as to pursue her education, she had never actually lied and said that she’d found one.
Giusto led her to the pit that had been dug in a corner of the clearing. Yalda looked down; the body was wrapped in petals, it could have been anyone. She sank to her knees, humming and shaking inconsolably.
When she’d recovered her composure she turned to Giusto. “He was a good man.” Her father had done his best for her, always; she owed him her life and her sanity.
“Of course.” Giusto squeezed her shoulder awkwardly.
“What happened?”
“He went quietly,” Giusto said. “Sleeping. He’d been sick for a few days.”
Mites were swarming around the grave. Yalda said, “Should I—?”
“Yes. Everyone else has been; everyone from the village.”
Yalda shaped her hands into scoops; Giusto knelt and helped her shift the soil back into the pit. She wanted to ask him about Aurelia and Claudia, too—at least to learn how old the children were—but this wasn’t the time. Childbirth was not to be lamented like death. Any hint of a comparison would be treated as a kind of derangement.
Yalda offered to help prepare the midday meal, but there were too many hands already, all accustomed to their own tasks. She watched Aurelio and Claudio affectionately guiding their boisterous children, intervening in the worst spats, making peace without taking sides or becoming angry. Who could condemn such able, loving fathers? But while she’d never know what the children’s mothers had wanted, she could be sure that no one had allowed them the kind of choices she’d had herself.
When the meal was over, Giusto took her aside.
“I want to hear about your co-stead,” he said. “What is it that he does? I should know what kind of business my great-nephews will inherit.”
“There is no business,” Yalda said. “I study at the university. I support myself with tutoring. That’s my life: work and study. There is no co-stead.”
Giusto’s face betrayed no surprise. “So you’re free? That’s good news! I’m glad there’s no one tying you down.”
“You approve?” Yalda was confused.
Giusto said, “Without a co-stead to worry about, you can take your father’s place on the new farm. Your brother can hardly work the farm alone, with young children.”
“Young children?” Yalda gestured around the clearing. “There aren’t enough children here already?”
“It’s Lucio’s time,” Giusto said. “How long should he wait? We’ve bought the farm already. Only Vito’s death has held things up.”
Yalda said, “Here’s a plan: rent out the second farm for a few years, then once your grandchildren are a little older, either Aurelio’s family or Claudio’s can take it over, along with Lucia and Lucio.”
Giusto buzzed derisively. “You want to scramble the generations? You want your brother to be so old when his children are born that his cousins’ children have to raise them for him?”
“What Lucio and Lucia do is up to them,” Yalda replied. “But I’m not going to work on that farm.”
Giusto was growing angry now. “So you’ve forgotten your own family?”
“My family doesn’t need me,” Yalda said calmly. “I’ve told you how you can make the second farm work.”
“Your duty is to take your father’s place there.”
“I doubt that would have been his opinion.”
“What is it that you think you’re doing in Zeugma?” Giusto demanded. “I’d like to know what’s so important that everything else in your life can be neglected.”
“I’m studying light,” Yalda said. “Star trails. The Hurtlers.”
“Hurtlers?”
“They’re a bit like shooting stars. We saw one, here, years ago—”
Giusto cut her off impatiently. “I taught Aurelio and Claudio to recite the sagas, and I’m willing to do the same for you. If you want a real education, start with six ages’ worth of knowledge.”
“All of it at least six ages out of date,” Yalda retorted.
Giusto stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. As far as Yalda could tell, his whole idea of knowledge was as something static, perfected in the distant past by the great poets and philosophers. The only truth to be had was passed down from them; there was nothing new to be found.
“I’m not leaving Zeugma,” she said. “No one understands light fully, yet, but people are working toward it—in Zeugma, in Red Towers, in the other cities. You can’t ask me to walk away from that! It’s the most exciting thing happening in the world right now. And I’m part of it.”
Giusto looked away, disgusted. “That was your father’s first mistake.”
“What mistake?” Yalda demanded angrily.
“Flattering you,” Giusto replied. “Letting you think that you were something special, as a compensation for having no co. That, and sending you to school.”
Yalda hadn’t expected to find it easy to sleep, but it felt perfectly normal to be lying in the clearing again, with the soil beneath her and the stars above. Ada had taken Aurelia’s spot, but she was asleep long before Yalda settled into her own old indentation. The flowers arranged around the sleepers glowed softly in every hue, but if Yalda raised her head slightly she could see the wheatlight beyond them.
She woke well before dawn, confused for a moment to have heard no bells, but sure of the time regardless. She rose and walked over to Lucia’s bed, then crouched down and touched her sister’s shoulder.
Lucia opened her eyes; Yalda gestured for silence, holding a motionless hand in front of her tympanum. Lucia climbed to her feet and followed Yalda to the edge of the clearing.
“I’m going now,” Yalda said. “The trucks leave the village early.”
“Do you have to? I’d hoped you’d stay a few more days.” Lucia sounded disappointed, but not greatly surprised.
“Why don’t you come with me?” Yalda suggested.
“To Zeugma?”
“Why not?”