The Family Tree by Sheri S. Tepper Read Free Book Online Page B

people. I’d learned all about poisons, which many of the concubines preferred, and hired assassins, which only the sultanas had sufficient treasure to procure. Every female in the harim was constantly jockeying for position, if not for herself, then for her children or friends.
    “Put your veil down,” said the eunuch, as we turned a corner and went through the tall, fretted door that marked the beginning of the salamlek, strictly male territory.
    None of us harim dwellers veiled ourselves, usually, not unless Sultan Tummyfat brought kinsmen in, but we all wore the veil, nonetheless, usually folded back over the tops of our heads. Mine was all wrinkled from crying in it, and it took some doing to get it straightened out and pull the two embroidered ribbons apart, one straight across my nose with a fall of filmy stuff below, the other high across my forehead, its fringe falling across my eyes. When it was in position, it fell to my waist, hiding my arms to the wrists.
    “What does the sultan want with me?” I asked as we came to a halt outside another door.
    “Let him tell you,” he said. “Turn around.”
    I turned, feeling him tug at the veil, smoothing it out behind, brushing the fringe forward, combing it with his armored fingers until it fell evenly, tapping me on the lower backbone so I stood up straight.
    “Now,” he said. “You follow me with your head bowed. Watch my legs so you don’t bump into me. When I stop, you stop. If the sultan asks you a question, answer it clearly, briefly, keep your head slightly bowed. Understand?”
    I was suddenly conscious that my mouth was dry. If the sultan asked me a question, I wasn’t sure I could answer him at all!
    The eunuch opened the door, went through, then turned to close it again, which was confusing because Ihad to make a little circle in order to stay behind him. Someone laughed, and I felt my cheeks burning. I must have looked silly, like a baby guz following its mother. Soaz muttered under his breath as we crossed the huge room, carpet on carpet on carpet, like walking on mattresses. He prowled, I stumbled after. When he stopped, he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me mindlessly putting myself behind him again when he stepped to the side.
    “I have brought the slave as the lord commanded.”
    “What is its name.”
    “Its palace name is Opalears, Lord.”
    “Show me its face.”
    Soaz lifted my veil, then put a calloused fingerpad under my chin and lifted my face. I closed my eyes.
    “Open your silly eyes,” muttered Soaz. “He won’t eat you.”
    I felt them pop open, like pea pods. There were two males seated on the divan, young and old. I had seen Lord Tummyfat before, when he came to the harim, a round person, smoothish in the face, without much hair. He had never looked at me before, however, and the look was disconcerting.
    “You’re the storyteller?” he asked.
    “I tell stories,” I gasped. “Sometimes.”
    “You cook, also.”
    “Yes, I do….”
    “How did we get her?” Lord Tummyfat asked the eunuch.
    “Her father was Halfnose Nazir, who was falsely accused of theft by the regent and executed; her mother was a suicide; her brother fled; this one was left alone. Seems to have been enslaved as an act of mercy,” said Soaz.
    “Ah.” Long pause. “I often think of Nazir. A good servant. She doesn’t look like much.”
    “No, Sultan. She is very skinny. Like a stick.”
    “How old is she?”
    “How old are you, girl?” asked Soaz.
    “Middle of my third age, sir.” The first being babyhood, then childhood, then adolescence, all of which were well understood. There was some controversy about when the fourth age, that of reason, started, and I didn’t worry myself about it. I hadn’t found life reasonable yet, and something told me I might never.
    Soaz nodded heavily. “The family was originally from Estafan, Lord. There are many ponjic people there, and as the Lord knows, ponji are bony, like posts, as well as being