The Snake Stone

95

The valide leans forward. Some things, she says to herself, do not change: they must not. I did not believe it, when I was young. I fought the old women: I scandalized them. But I see it clearly now: this is my role.

She watches for a deviation. She can remember her last visit; she compares it with this.

Now he drinks the pure water from the cup, and now he dips his bread in a plate of salt, to show his brotherhood.

The watermen cross their arms flat against their chests.

They bow to the new recruit. There are spots of color on his cheeks.

The sou naziry, the chief of the watermen’s guild, raises his hands. “Water is life.”

“Water is life,” the new recruit answers in a firm voice.

“It is the blessing of the spirit.”

“And the spirit is with God,” he answers.

“Be He blessed, the Merciful, the Creator.”

“And may His blessings fall upon us, as the rain.”

The sou naziry steps forward and places his hands on the other man’s shoulders. He kisses him three times.

The valide almost smiles: it reminds her of gentlemen on Martinique.

She glances around, to share her smile with Yashim.

But Yashim isn’t there.