***
Francesca looked down at herself and wished for a mirror. She had no idea how she looked in the Sansoussy dress of coarse-woven brown cloth that Mina had provided.
At least she was clean. She had washed thoroughly, standing in a shallow wooden tub and soaping herself all over and then rinsing with a bucketful of water. After she had dried herself off, she had put on clean underclothes and the Sansoussy dress that felt so strange—rough and heavy.
A scratching at the door frame caught Francesca’s attention. “Yes?”
Mina stuck her gray head into the room. “The shaman will see you now, if you’re rested.”
It sounded like an invitation to a guest, but Francesca didn’t want to press her luck by declining. “I’m rested.”
Mina seemed annoyed as she stood watching Francesca pull on her stockings. Was she miffed at having to wait on a city dweller? Francesca needed information. “Where’s Ran-Del?”
Mina’s mouth set in a straight line. “He’s in his room, resting,” she said in flat, uninviting tones.
“Is he all right?” Francesca asked, a little alarmed at this attitude.
“He’s fine,” Mina said, her stern expression easing. “The shaman is waiting.”
Francesca pulled on her own boots. The moccasins Mina had brought were too small to be comfortable. “I’m ready.”
She followed Mina through a room that seemed to be another bedroom, and then back into the storage room. Mina ducked into Ji-Ran’s great room and waited until Francesca had joined her to speak.
“The woman is here, Father-in-law,” she said.
“Thank you, Mina,” the shaman said from his chair. “You need not wait.”
She bowed and ducked out through the door, leaving Francesca alone with the old shaman.
“Come nearer, Francesca Hayden,” Ji-Ran Jahanpur commanded.
Francesca walked closer. Ji-Ran nodded at a stool near his feet. “Sit.”
Francesca decided to take this as an invitation and not an order. “Thank you,” she said, sinking down on the stool.
Ji-Ran Jahanpur showed his teeth, and his shoulders shook in a silent laugh. Air might be leaving his lungs, but no sound came from his throat. “I hope Mina has made you welcome.”
“She has.” Honesty compelled Francesca to add a rider. “She gave me much more of a welcome than Ran-Del got in our house.”
Ji-Ran let some sound escape when he laughed this time. “But it seems that your father planned for you, at least, to make him very welcome.”
Francesca couldn’t help but smile in return. “He did, but Ran-Del had other ideas.”
The shaman raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “And yet Ran-Del came around in the end.”
Francesca gave him a hostile stare. If he already knew what she was thinking, there was no point in being diplomatic. “Maybe the people here are used to you mucking about in their minds, but where I come from, we give each other a little privacy.”
Ji-Ran didn’t seem offended by this criticism. “Ran-Del has confided the truth of what happened to his grandfather.”
“There wasn’t a whole lot to confide,” Francesca said. “I don’t see why you’re all making such a fuss over nothing.”
Ji-Ran’s brow creased in a solemn frown. “Your ways are not our ways, young woman. Our people consider physical intimacy to be of more than passing importance.”
“That’s all well and good,” Francesca said, “but Ran-Del and I were not intimate.”
“Only because you yourself have some principles.”
Francesca lost her patience. “Did you ask me to come here only to talk about a brief moment of well-bridled passion? I would have thought you had better things to do.”
The shaman nodded, his eyes twinkling in appreciation. “I do. Give me your hand, Francesca.”
Instinctively, Francesca clenched her hands together. “Why?”
“Because I want to touch you while I ponder the future,” Ji-Ran said imperturbably. “Give me your hand!”
It sounded a little like a fortune teller at a carnival, but then she remembered the way he had pulled the flexitron cable apart. Well, why not? She wouldn’t mind knowing the future. She held out her right hand. The old man’s touch was dry and cool. His fingers were bony, and he held her hand tightly while he shut his eyes.
Francesca sat and waited, feeling very foolish. It was quiet in the room. The small fire crackled faintly, accompanied by the almost imperceptible sounds of tree branches scraping the hide walls. Ji-Ran Jahanpur’s face was motionless, and Francesca was afraid to speak to him. She thought for a few moments that he had fallen asleep, but he stirred, and she realized it was very much like when Ran-Del meditated.
After several minutes, the old man lifted his head and stared at her. He sighed, as if from a great sorrow, and shook his head. “It’s not enough.”
“What’s not enough?” Francesca asked, feeling cheated. How could he say he would look into the future and not tell her what he saw?
Ji-Ran shook his head. “Mina will come for you,” he said, his voice weak.
In a moment, he was proved right when his daughter-in-law came into the room.
“Take her away and find Isayah,” Ji-Ran said, still sounding weary. “Send him to me.”
“Yes, Father-in-law,” she said, waiting for Francesca to join her at the door.
Francesca went reluctantly, not certain if it was safe to leave the old man alone. Mina didn’t seem worried, so Francesca followed the Sansoussy woman out the door.
She had no idea what to make of the interview. It was, she realized, one of the few times in her life when she had absolutely nothing to say.