The Gilded Ones

Deka is preparing for the ritual of purity, where she will be tested to prove her eligibility to marry and belong in the village. She is worried about the possibility of being found impure and taken away by the priests. Deka's father is also concerned about this, as their family has been shadowed by a past incident of impurity. Deka and her friend Elfride navigate the village square, filled with visitors and festivities for the occasion. Deka is excited but also anxious about her future and the secrets she must keep hidden. The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna. Chapter 1. Today is the ritual of purity. The nervous thought circles in my head as I hurry towards the barn, gathering my cloak to ward off the cold. It's early morning and the sun hasn't yet begun its climb above the snow-dusted trees encircling our small farmhouse. Shadows gather in the darkness, crowding the weak pool of light cast by my lamp. An ominous tingling builds under my skin. It's almost as if there's something there at the edge of my vision. It's just nerves, I tell myself. I've felt the tingling many times before and never once seen anything strange. The barn door is open when I arrive, a lantern hung at the post. Father is already inside, spreading hay. He's a frail figure in the darkness, his tall body sunken into itself. Just three months ago he was hearty and robust, his blonde hair untouched by grey. Then the red box came, sickening him and mother. Now he's stooped and faded with the roomy eyes and wispy hair of someone decades older. You're already awake, he says softly, grey eyes flitting over me. I couldn't sleep any longer, I reply, grabbing a milk pail and heading towards Norla, our largest cow. I'm supposed to be resting in isolation like all the other gals, preparing for the ritual, but there's too much work to do around the farm and not enough hands. There hasn't been since mother died three months ago. The thought brings tears to my eyes and I blink them away. Mother forks more hay into the stalls. Blessings to he who waketh to witness the glory of the Infinite Father, he grunts, quoting from the Infinite Wisdoms. So are you prepared for today? I nod. Yes, I am. Later this afternoon Elder Derkes will test me and all the other sixteen-year-old gals during the ritual of purity. Once we're proven pure, we'll officially belong here in the village. I'll finally be a woman, eligible to marry, have a family of my own. The thought sends another wave of anxiety across my mind. I glance at father from the corner of my eye. His body stains. His movements are laboured. He's worried too. I had a thought. Father, I begin, what if, what if, I stop there, the unfinished question lingering heavily in the air, an unspeakable dread unfurling in the gloom of the barn. Father gives me what he thinks is a reassuring smile, but the edge of his mouth is tight. What if what, he asks me. You can tell me, Decker. What if my blood doesn't run pure, I whisper, the horrible words rushing out of me. What if I'm taken away by the priests, banished? I have nightmares about it, terrors that merge with my other dreams, the ones where I'm in a dark ocean, mother's voice calling out to me, is that what you're worried about? I nod. Even though it's rare, everyone knows of someone's sister or relative who was found to be impure. The last time it happened in Erfurt was decades ago, to one of father's cousins. The villagers still whisper about the day she was dragged away by the priests, never to be seen again. Father's family has been shadowed by it ever since. That's why they're always acting so holy, always the first in tempo. My aunts masked so absolutely, even their mouths are hidden from view. The infinite wisdom cautions, only the impure, blaspheming and unchaste woman remains revealed under the eyes of a Yoma. But this warning refers to the top half of the face, forehead to the tip of the nose. My aunts, however, even have little square of sheer cloth covering their eyes. When father returned from his army post with mother at his side, the entire family disowned him immediately. It was too risky, accepting a woman of unknown purity and a foreigner as that into the family. Then I come along, a child dark enough to be a full Southerner, but with father's gray eyes, cleft chin and softly curled hair to say otherwise. I've been in Irfut my entire life, born and raised, and I'm still treated like a stranger, still stared and pointed at, still excluded. I wouldn't even be allowed in the temple if some of father's relatives had their way. My face may be the spitting image of his, but that's not enough. I need to be proven for the village to accept me, for father's family to accept us. Once my blood runs pure, I'll finally belong. Father walks over, smiles reassuringly at me. Do you know what being pure means, Daka? He asks. I reply with a passage from the Infinite Wisdoms. Women are the meek and subservient, the humble and true daughters of man, for they are unsullied in the face of the Infinite Father. Every girl knows it by heart. We recite it wherever we enter a temple, a constant reminder that women were created to be help-meets to men, subservient to their desires and commands. Are you humble in all the other things, Daka? Father asks. I nod. I think so, I say. Uncertainty flickers in his eyes, but he smiles and kisses my forehead. Then all will be well. He returns to his hay. I take my seat before Nola, that worry still niggling at me. After all, there are other ways I resemble mother that father does not know about, ways that would make the villagers despise me even more if they ever find out. I have to make sure I keep them secret. The villagers must never find out. Never. It is still early morning when I reach the village square. There is a slight chill in the air, and the roofs of nearby houses drip with icicles. When in, the sun is unseasonably bright, its rays glinting off the high arching columns of the temple of Oyomo. Those columns are meant to be a prayer, a meditation on the progress of Oyomo's sun across the sky every day. High priests use them to choose which two days of the year to conduct the spring and winter rituals. The very sight of them sends another surge of anxiety through me. Deka! Deka! A familiar gawkish figure waves excitedly at me from across the road. Elfride hurries over to me. Her cloak pulled so tightly around her, all I can see are her bright green eyes. She and I both always try to cover our faces when we come into the village square. Me because of my coloring, and Elfride because of the dull red birthmark covering the left side of her face. Girls are allowed to remain revealed until they go through the ritual, but there's no point attracting attention, especially on a day like this. This morning, Erfrut's tiny cobblestone square is thronged with hundreds of visitors, more arriving by the carousel every minute. They're from all across Oterra. Hottie Southerners with dark brown skin and tightly curled hair, easy-going Westerners, long black hair and top knots, tattoos all over golden skin, brash Northerners, pink skin, the blond hair gleaming in the cold, and quiet Easterners in every shade from deep brown to eggshell, silky-straight black hair flowing in glistening rivers down their backs. Even though Erfrut is remote, it's known for its pretty girls, and men come from far distances to look at the eligible ones before they take the mask. Lots of girls will find husbands today, if they haven't already. Isn't it exciting, Dekka? Elfriede giggles. She gestures at the square, which is now festively decorated for the occasion. The doors of all the houses with eligible girls have been painted gleaming red, banners and flags fly cheerfully from windows, and brightly colored lanterns adorn every entrance. There are even masks to dancers and fire-breathers, and they thread through the crowd, competing against the merchants selling the bags of roasted nuts, smoked chicken legs, and candied apples. Excitement courses through the air at the sight. It is, I reply with a grin, that Elfriede is already dragging me along. Hurry, hurry, she urges, barreling past the crowds of visitors, many of whom stop to scowl disapprovingly at our lack of male guardians. In most villages, women can't leave their homes without a man to escort them. Elfriede, however, is small, and men are a scarce supply. Most of the eligible ones have joined the army, as father did when he was younger. A few have even survived the training to become jatu, the emperor's elite guard. I spot a contingent of them lingering at the edge of the square, watchful in the gleaming red armor. There are two of them. One of them is a young man. He is wearing red armor.