In general, Josharons didn’t think very highly of Terrans. Actually, nobody in the Andarian Dimension had a high opinion of Terrans as far as Jenny knew. Even the Centaurs, who were considered the illiterate barbarians of the world, thought Terrans were backward.
And if Barb and Jim were planning to attend Tolan’s memorial dressed like that? They weren’t helping their case.
Jenny seized Meg’s arm as they both stopped to stare at their new friends from Terran, striding through the gates of Chandan Village, both dressed in black clothing, somber and horrifying.
“What are they wearing?” Jenny hissed.
“I—don’t know.” Meg scowled.
“Didn’t you tell them this was a funeral?”
Meg glared at her. “Of course, I did.”
“Why are they wearing black?”
Meg disentangled her arm, still frowning. “I don’t know, Jenny. Maybe they brought clothes to change into?”
“That reminds me.” Jenny poked her sister in the ribs. “Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Bring your robes?”
“Yes,” Meg snapped.
“Are you sure? Because you didn’t bring them last time.”
“Jenny.” Meg set her hand on Jenny’s shoulder. “I have them. I promise.”
Jenny started to speak, and Meg set a firm finger over her lips.
“And so does Danny.”
Jenny huffed. There was a first time for everything, apparently. But, in this instance, it was a Godsend, because Barb and Jim simply could not walk around a memorial service dressed in black. Not if they wanted to make a good impression.
“Mickey is helping Yasira with miti muragi for the evening meal. I need to go make sure she has what she needs and that she’s got a place to change. Can you help them?” Meg grabbed her other shoulder.
“Of course, I can.” Jenny smiled.
“Don’t nag Barb.”
“I don’t nag Barb.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I do not.”
Meg leveled a stern expression at her and started walking toward the other end of the village. Hopefully she really did have her ceremonial robes. If she didn’t, Velanna would be really embarrassed.
As Barb and Jim walked toward her, she grabbed her rucksack from the corner of the gathering hut and slung it over her shoulder. The sooner Barb and Jim changed out of those horrid dark clothes, the better. And she might as well change while she was at it too. There probably wouldn’t be a better time.
“Hey, Jenny!” Jim greeted her with a sparkling grin, towering over her head like a long-legged stork wearing glasses. “Where did Meg dash off to?”
“She had to help Mickey with something.” Jenny adjusted her bag. “What are you two wearing?”
Barb scowled, vibrant green eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t Meg tell you this is a funeral?”
Barb and Jim cast a confused glance at each other, and Jim grimaced.
“Yeah,” he said. “So we dressed appropriately?”
Jenny arched her eyebrows. “But you’re wearing black!”
“Yes,” Barb said slowly.
Jenny took a step back and gawked at them. Surely they weren’t serious.
“Do you mean—Terrans wear black to funerals?” Jenny’s jaw dropped.
“What other color would they wear, Jenny?” Barb groaned. “Fuchsia? Magenta? Chartreuse?”
“Are those colors or naughty words?”
“Jenny.” Barb slumped her face into her hand.
“Well, here, the only time you see black clothes is at weddings.” Jenny scoffed.
“Weddings?” Jim yelped.
“So showing up in all black to a funeral is totally rude.” Jenny looped her arm into Barb’s. “Didn’t you wonder why everyone is staring at you?”
Barb rolled her eyes. “We don’t have fur? Or tails?”
Well, she had a point.
“Come on.” Jenny pulled Barb with her. “I have spares.”
“Spares? Like spare clothing?” Jim perked up.
“I sure do.” Jenny patted her rucksack with a grin. “And you’re both in luck because for the first time in an age, Meg and Danny both remembered their ceremonial robes.”
Jenny dragged Barb along beside her as she made a beeline for the nearest Josharon hut. The drape hanging from the hut’s front door swung in the gentle breeze, the golden yellow fabric dotted with the traditional batik-patterned symbols of sandalwood blossoms, mountains, and sunbursts made her hesitate.
Fareiba, who lived there, was on the council and had often offered the place for general village use. Allowing Jim and Barb to change into clothes that wouldn’t offend the sensibilities of the entire dimension qualified.
Jenny pushed the door open and and flashed a smile at the Taylor siblings. “Come on in.”
Barb made a worried face. “We can just go in?”
“We can.” Jenny beckoned them. “Nobody’s home, and the owner doesn’t mind.”
“You sure?” Jim winced.
“Promise.”
Barb still hesitated. Jenny pulled Barb inside Fareiba’s well-appointed hut, and Jim flailed along after them with his overly long legs and arms spindly and waggling.
In comparison to Yaasha’s hut, Fareiba’s home was a mansion. Three times the size with upholstered furnishings, plush rugs, and a wooden floor. She even had wooden ceilings as well, studded with aelon stones that cast a brilliant white light into the dark corners of the main room.
She had a huge kitchen too, with running water, marble counters, carved wooden cabinets, and dozens of shelves for extra storage of all her dried goods and preserved. Even more ironic, since Fareiba didn’t cook for herself.
Jenny stepped away from Barb and looked Jim up and down. “Nope, all of it has to go.” She pointed to the carved privacy screen in the corner of the main room.
Jim scowled. “What am I supposed to do back there?”
Jenny set her bag on the central meal table and opened it, shoving her arm inside and pulling out two sets of white kurtas.
“What do you think, Jim? Take your clothes off.”
Jim’s face turned as red as the tomatoes in Jenny’s garden. “What?”
Jenny held up the piles of white fabric. “You can’t wear black to a Josharon memorial service. It’s rude. So get back there, take your clothes off, and change into what I give you.”
Barb snickered as Jim slunk behind the screen, his face still red.
Jenny turned on her heel and pointed at Barb. “And you?”
Barb’s laughter died instantly, and she glared again. “What about me?”
“Braid your hair.”
“You’re awfully pushy today, Jenny.”
Jenny sank onto a cushion at the table as she pulled the set of trousers in Danny’s kurta set into her lap. “Trust me. You want your hair braided.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a small dagger, which she used to cut the stitches at the bottom of the trousers.
With a sigh, Barb sat across from her on another cushion and started braiding her hair. “So—black wasn’t a good call?” She smirked.
“Who wears black to a funeral anyway?” Jenny stabbed at the stitches. “Is it all Terrans? Or just you guys?”
Barb laughed. “Well, it is a western culture sort of thing. So in America, yeah. England too. Parts of Europe.”
“Not here. We wear white to funerals.”
“And you’re mutilating Danny’s pants—why?”
Jenny looked up from her stitch ripping. “Danny’s tall, but he’s not Jim tall. If I don’t let out the hem on these trousers, Jim will look like he’s wearing shorts.”
Jim snorted from behind the privacy screen. “Well, we definitely want to make sure my hairy ankles are covered.”
Jenny smirked. “We certainly do.” She emphasized the words carefully and bit her lip as she waited.
Hesitantly, Jim’s voice piped. “That’s right. Why do we want to do that?”
Barb arched an eyebrow, and Jenny winked at her. “Jim, hasn’t Meg told you anything?” She finished letting out the hem on the trousers and stood up. “Showing your ankles in public is the prelude to Josharon courtship.”
Behind the screen, Jim squeaked.
At the table, Barb covered her mouth with her hand, green eyes sparkling.
Oh, yes. He fell for it.
Jim thrust his hand out so Jenny could give him the kurta and trousers. He tossed his black slacks and shirt over the top of the screen as he did so.
“Ankles, huh?” He asked, his tone wobbly.
“Ankles.” Jenny patted his arm.
He muttered something and retreated behind the screen to change.
Jenny giggled as she handed the set of white robes to Barb. “You can change in the corner, if you like. I’ll change when you’re finished.”
“I was going to ask.” Barb nodded toward Jenny’s sturdy outfit of overalls and boots.
“Yeah, it takes a lot of prep work for a festival like this.” Jenny beamed. “But—it will be worth it.”
Barb accepted the stack of clothes with a smile and moved into the dark corner of the hut to begin changing.
“Can I leave my tank top on? Please say yes.”
“Yes. I mean, unless it’s neon pink.” Jenny shrugged.
“Nothing I own is neon pink, Jenny. Who do you think I am?”
Jim cleared his throat as he came around the corner of the screen and stood for Jenny to assess his appearance. Jenny bit her lips. Letting the hem out of the trousers had been a good idea, but it didn’t provide enough length.
Not even close.
Jim Taylor had legs like a giraffe.
Jenny gave him a thumbs up. “You look great, Jim.”
“But.” His lower lip quivered. “Ankles?” He pointed.
Jenny stifled the urge to laugh. “Don’t worry. Only a handful of the female kits will notice, and they’ll just follow you around for a little while.”
Jim whimpered.
Barb emerged from the shadows in the corner, her lips quirked in a mischievous smile. “You could always ask Meg to protect you, Jim.”
Jim scowled at her.
“She might like to see your ankles.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” Barb set her clothes on the table. “Give me your stuff. I’ll make sure it gets home.”
Jim snagged his clothes off the privacy screen and chucked them at Barb, who caught them with a laugh.
“Okay. Are we done, Jenny?”
“Jim is.” Jenny nodded.
Jim huffed in relief and scurried for the door.
“What?” Barb looked down at herself. “Have I got something on backward?”
Jenny smiled at the image of Barb in the elegant white kurti set. The loose fitting pants flared around her calves and fell quite a bit short of her ankles. But then, Meg was also shorter than Barb.
The kurti tunic itself fell to her knees. On Meg, it draped much lower. But it was white. And Barb wouldn’t stand out or offend as much as if she were wearing black.
But—there was one more thing she needed.
Jenny dove back into her bag. “Barb, I do have a question.”
“Just one?”
“Are you married?”
Barb teetered sideways on her heel. “Am I what?”
“Married.” Jenny shrugged. “It’s just—you never wear a head covering in public. So what am I supposed to think?”
Barb sagged. “I’m not married, Jenny.”
“Oh.” Jenny dug around in her bag and pulled out a white length of fabric, holding it out to her. “You need to wear this. Wrap it around your head and shoulders. Be sure you cover your ears.”
“My ears?” Barb sneered.
“Ears and ankles, Barb.”
Barb flushed. “Oh.”
Not really.
But sort of.
Better safe than sorry.
Barb carefully began wrapping the scarf around the thick flaming red braid of her hair. Jenny dug her own ceremonial clothing out of the bag and quickly began to change, clambering out of her boots and stripping her clothing off.
If her changing in the middle of the room bothered Barb, she didn’t say.
“I can’t believe you thought I was married,” Barb chuckled.
“Honest mistake.” Jenny shrugged and pulled her kurti over her head.
Barb shook her head. “Meg doesn’t wear a headscarf.”
“When we’re here, we’re home. It’s not public.” Jenny said, pulling her trousers off and slipping into the loose pants that matched her kurti.
“She doesn’t wear it in public either.”
“Well, not now. She’d stand out.” Jenny rolled her eyes. “And don’t you know, none of us should stand out.”
Barb narrowed her eyes at Jenny’s tone. She needed to cool it. Barb was perceptive and would pick up on any conflict between Jenny and her sister.
“Here, for traditional events and special occasions, we do the Josharon thing.” Jenny pulled out her own headscarf and wrapped it around her hair. “We always have.” She flashed a smile at Barb. “If you see a Josharon female in public without a head covering, she’s married. And you can tell what clan and family she married into by the pattern on the fabric.”
“Like on the doorway,” Barb said.
“That’s right.” Jenny straightened her skirt and neatly stacked her trousers and blouse on the table. “Velanna wears a headscarf too, but hers is beaded. It’s a little different from a Josharon headscarf.”
“Because she’s something else—Celtican, right?”
“Right.”
Barb shook her head. “It’s a lot to keep track of.”
Jenny frowned. “Well how do you know if someone is married?”
“They usually have a wedding ring on?” Barb held on her left hand and waggled her fingers for some reason.
“That doesn’t seem very easy to spot,” Jenny said. “A ring? Why a ring? Why not a bracelet? Or an arm brace? Or even a necklace. That would be way easier to tell.”
Barb rolled her eyes. “Are we done?”
“Sure.”
Barb headed for the door, and Jenny shoved her clothes into the bag. She pulled it over her shoulder and followed at Barb’s heels.
“Tolan and Velanna got married under a blue lampflower arch,” Jenny said.
“Uh-huh.”
“That was a long time ago,” Jenny said. “But I bet it was beautiful. He always said there were fireflies hanging around, and he was glad because I guess not very many people came to their wedding. So it was a good thing the fireflies were interested.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do Terrans get married under blue lampflowers?”
“I—don’t know what that is.” Barb frowned.
“Oh, Barb, they’re the most beautiful flowers ever!”
“Right.”
Jenny tucked her free arm into Barb’s in spite of the older girl’s squirming. “You don’t seem to be very interested in weddings, Barb.”
Barb sighed. “No, I’m really not.”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to be married?”
Barb stiffened.
“You’re so pretty. Are Terran boys just blind? They don’t pay attention to pretty girls?”
“Jenny.”
Jenny tilted her head. Meg had called the courtship of Terran couples something. What had she called it?
“It’s something to do with calendars, right?” Jenny asked.
“What?”
“The courting rituals in Terran.”
“You mean a date?” Barb sounded tired.
“Yes, that’s it!” Jenny beamed. “Have you been on a date?”
“Jenny, I don’t really want to talk about this.”
“Please, Barb? Meg won’t tell me anything about Terran, and I really want to know. So if you’ve been on a date—?”
Barb stopped and turned sharply, taking Jenny by the shoulders. “Jenny, we’re not talking about dates today.”
Jenny smirked at her. “Why not? It’s because you haven’t been on one, have you?”
Something flashed in Barb’s eyes, a dark expression that turned her face to granite. “This is your father’s memorial service, Jenny. We’re not talking about dating or courting or whatever you people call it. This should be a time to remember him. Okay?”
Jenny lowered her gaze, stung. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Barb released her and stepped back. “Now where did Jim go?” She stepped away and headed toward where Meg stood closer to the center of the village.
Jenny watched her leave.
It wasn’t Barb’s fault.
She hadn’t known Tolan. If she had, she would have known that the greatest joy of Tolan’s life was being wed to Velanna. He loved to talk about their union. He spoke of the delicate scent of the blue lampflowers with as much awe as if the wedding had just happened.
If Tolan had been able to attend his own memorial service, that’s what he would have been talking about, because he always did anyway.
Clutching her bag close, Jenny followed Barb to where Meg was standing.
Something darted in the forest, a shadow figure. Jenny paused and turned, peering into the gathering dark for any indication of what it might have been.
Probably a Yodha.
That was the best explanation. Tolan had been held in high esteem by the warrior class of Josharons as well, so it wasn’t unheard of that several of them would have attended his memorial. And it also wasn’t unheard of that they would keep to the shadows.
That’s where the Yodha lived, after all.
Still—Jenny felt a chill break out across her skin, shivering down her spine.