She wore the accepted dress of Phondra, a single piece of blue and orange cloth wound around the body, held in place by the cunning of the folds (a knack known only to Phondrans). The free end of the cloth is draped over the right shoulder (to show she is unmarried—married women place the fold over the left shoulder).
Silver ceremonial bracelets adorned her arms, silver bells hung from her ears.
“I’ve never seen you wear those bracelets, Alake,” I said, making conversation to break the silence that was so terribly silent. “Are they yours or your mother’s? Were they a gift?”
To my surprise, Alake, who is usually fond of showing off any new jewelry, made no reply and averted her face.
I thought she hadn’t heard me. “Alake, I asked if—”
Devon jabbed me in the ribs with his sharp elbow. “Shush! Say nothing about her jewelry!”
“Why not?” I whispered back irritably. To be honest, I was getting sick and tired of tiptoeing around, fearful of offending someone.
“She wears her burial adornments,” Devon returned.
I was shocked. Of course, I’d heard of the custom. At birth, Phondran girl-children are presented with silver bracelets and ear-jangles which, it is hoped, they will wear at their wedding and pass along to their own daughters. But, if a girl dies untimely, before her marriage, her bracelets and other jewelry are placed on the body when it is sent out to join the One in the Good sea.
I felt miserable, tried to think of something to say to make everything all right, realized that nothing I said would help. So I sat, scuffing my heels against the floor and trying to take an interest in what Alake was doing.
Devon sat beside me. The furniture aboard the ship was built for dwarves. I felt sorry for the elf, who looked most uncomfortable, his long legs, encased in the silken folds of Sabia’s skirt, spraddled out on either side of his short-legged stool.
Alake was taking an interminable length of time to set up the objects on the altar, stopping to pray over each one.
“If all humans pray like this over every little thing, my guess is that the One fell asleep long ago!” I spoke in what I thought was an undertone, but Alake must have heard me, because she looked shocked and frowned at me in reproof.
I decided I’d better change the subject and, glancing over at Devon wearing Sabia’s clothes, I came up with something I’d long wondered.
“How did you manage to persuade Sabia to let you go in her place?” I asked the elf.
Of course, that was wrong, too. Devon, who had been keeping up a cheerful front, immediately grew sad, and turned his face away.
Alake darted over to me, pinched me, hard.
“Don’t remind him of her!”
“Ouch! This does it!” I growled, losing patience. “I’m not to speak to Alake about her ear-jangles. I’m not to talk to Devon about Sabia, despite the fact that he’s wearing her clothes and looks uncommonly silly in a dress. Well, in case you’ve both forgotten, it’s my funeral, too, and Sabia was my friend. We’ve been trying to pretend we’re on a holiday cruise. We’re not. And it’s not right to keep our words in our bellies, as we dwarves say. It poisons the food.” I snorted. “No wonder we can’t eat.”
Alake stared at me in startled silence. Devon had the ghost of a smile on his pale face.
“You are right, Grundle,” he admitted, casting his gaze down ruefully at the tight-bodiced, ribbon-bedecked, lace-covered, flower-ornamented gown. Elven males are nearly as slender as elven females, but they tend to be broader through the shoulders, and I noticed that here and there a seam had given way under the strain. “We should talk about Sabia. I’ve wanted to, but I was afraid of hurting you both by bringing up sad memories.”
Impulsively, Alake knelt at Devon’s side, took his hand in hers. “I honor you, my friend, for your courage and your sacrifice. I know of no man I hold in higher esteem.”
Rare praise, from a human. Devon was pleased and touched. His cheeks flushed, he shook his head. “It was my own selfishness,” he said softly. “How could I go on living, knowing she had died and . . . how she had died. My death will be so much easier, thinking of her safe and well.”