Journey's Start

It took only a day to finalize the arrangements for leaving Klain. The emissary and small entourage would travel to the Sea alongside a small contingent of Klain soldiers, two of Duncan's personal representatives, and the two women: Mayra and Naomi.

In the end, it was an excellent idea for all involved that Naomi should have a female companion on the journey. She was not terribly outspoken about her needs, unlike Mayra's assertive nature. It would have been even better to have some kind of matron or widow along instead of two young single women, but the grouping was satisfactory to all.

Naomi had very little to her name, and in the time before leaving, Mayra, Finn, and Ashley had put their heads together to alter a few gowns that would look good on her. It would do no good, in their opinion, for a bride to show up completely destitute. Ashley had plenty of gowns to spare, and Finn had one or two that she doubted she would ever fit into again once her pregnancy was over.

She was all too happy for the moment to rid herself of the reminders of how thin she once was in the face of how enormous she'd grown. Naomi was overwhelmed by the kindness, and humbly accepted the gifts. She had not worn Klain clothing before, and was interested in its style.

Rhone clothing was simple and functional, all a bland sandy color with no embellishment. Klain was far more varied. Even the simplest clothes were often in soft, nice tones with touches of detail that made them prettier.

Naomi finished packing her new things into her bag, a 'wedding' gift from Mrs. Sherman, and smiled. She was almost tempted to stay here in Klain if only for the nice people she had met since arriving.

"Come on! We don't want to miss the caravan!" Mayra exclaimed as she entered the room with her own bag.

"I'm coming," Naomi took one last look around the room to make sure she was forgetting nothing, and followed the other woman out. Hugs and goodbyes were given. A group of boys ranging from about thirteen down to five was present with a woman who looked like an older version of Mayra.

Mayra kissed each head as she passed them, though she had to go on tiptoes for the first two, who obligingly ducked their chins to help her reach.

"Bye, Mama. Don't worry, I'll be back!" Mayra cheerfully hugged the older woman at the end of the line. Naomi reflected on how different this parting was from leaving her own mother not long ago.

Naomi's mother had not wished her ill, but did not have any expectations of seeing her daughter again. The parting had been colored by the permanent separation, and it was as if Naomi had already left. There was no reason to linger over a relationship that was being cut off forever.

Looking away, Naomi straightened her dress and left Mayra to the rest of her goodbyes. Suddenly, her hand was caught and she looked back to see Mayra's mother holding onto her.

"Just a moment, please. Naomi, correct? I'm Amelia. As you're off to be married, I thought you might be in need of a blessing." She smiled warmly at the girl and placed one hand gently on each of her cheeks, shocking Naomi to her toes.

"May you be blessed, may your children be many. May your husband's love be as strong as his will, and may both protect and keep you from harm. May your family have sufficient laughter and joy to sustain you through times of sorrow. Let your home be a place of peace, hope, and love, always."

Amelia pulled Naomi's face down to kiss her forehead gently. The younger woman was too shocked to cry, although she felt the hot tears burning behind her eyes.

"Thank you," She nodded at Mayra's mother solemnly. The words were all she could manage. Amelia clasped her into a tight hug before letting her go on her way.

It was a beautiful and bittersweet way to start the journey. Beautiful in its kindness, bitter in that Naomi had experienced more love from these strangers in less than two days than her mother had managed to give her in the last two years since her father had died.

The world was a strange place.

___________

"I refuse." Caspian stared at his father with hard eyes.

"You cannot." Haf stared back at his son with a nearly identical gaze.

"The agreement with Rhone, according to the messenger, is that either party to the proposed union can refuse. I refuse." Caspian said again. It was insulting.

"You mustn't," Cora put in, laying a hand on her son's arm. "Please, it is important to our people that this union occur."

"And it falls to me to take on a foreign bride because Edmar is far too good for one." Caspian turned on his mother.

"Your older brother is to lead our people when your father dies," Cora soothed. "He needs a wife that knows our ways. You have the honor of setting the example amongst our people that these Rhone girls are the key to our future. We simply do not have enough women left to sustain us."

Cora felt intense guilt at being one of the survivors of the tragedy that had wiped out so many women of their nation. The Festival of Women was held once a year in the spring as a way to bless and encourage all unmarried women. The mothers of the women also attended, but as Cora had only birthed sons, she had only opened the gathering ceremonially, and then retired to her place at the edges of the celebrations.

It was always such a blessing, to see the girls enjoying the sisterhood, building their friendships in a strong way that would survive marriage. With the men often at sea, women relied on each other for much. These bonds were vital to their way of life, and so the Festival was a way to nourish them.

No one could have predicted the river's mighty fury. Many women waded along its banks together in laughter and fun. They all knew not to turn their backs on the sea. Danger had never come so suddenly and with such ferocity from inland.

Cora closed her eyes against the memory and refocused on the present.

"Caspian, please." She pleaded with him. Without more women, there would be few in the next generation.

"I do not beg you, I command you. You will marry this woman, and if you attempt to refuse, you will be cast out." Haf empathized with his wife but brooked no argument from his son.

Caspian's lips pressed together in suppressed anger, and he whirled and walked away without answering.

"What will he do?" Cora whispered anxiously.

"He will sulk. And then he will obey. He is a dutiful son underneath his bluster." Haf projected an air of confidence, but underneath, he only hoped he was correct. He hoped whatever Rhone woman was coming to marry his son would be up to the challenge of taming the stubborn young man.

Caspian heard his father's last words, though he pretended he didn't. He left his parents' dwelling near the center of their settlement and moved South to the sandy shore. As he stepped close enough for a wave to touch his bare feet, he relaxed a little.

Staring out to sea, he felt a deep calm in stark contrast to the water's capricious ways. He breathed deeply of the salty air, letting it cleanse his foul mood. His father was right, mostly. He cared what happened to their people, and knew an example was necessary.

Though the sea was changeable, the people who lived at its mercy were far less so. Traditions held strong for generation upon generation without altering. The people were sturdy and steady, tanned by the sun and roughened by the salt of the waves. Acceptance of outsiders was a rare thing, but now change was badly needed for the survival of their culture.

So he would set that example. Publicly, he would put on the mantle of dutiful second son of the Commodore. He would marry whatever strange sand-dweller was brought to be his bride and swear himself to her for the rest of their lives. The other men would follow his example and take wives for themselves from the foreigners.

Their way of life would endure, and his duty would be complete. No one would find fault with his performance or the good it brought to his people.

Privately, it chafed him deeply to be treated as second best, simply because he was second born. His brother deserved a wife from their people, but not him. He was forced to accept the dregs of the Rhone that could not find a husband among her own people. He pitied the ugly thing he was sure to marry. He would treat this woman being forced upon him with politeness, but nothing more. He determined that this wretched creature would be his wife in name only.