“ ‘Why do the flowers bloom so, everywhere around camp? If I offer the flowers at the entrance to his sister’s tent, will he pretend not to see me?’ ”

Orphan glanced at her, and away at once, since it wasn’t proper for any man not related by blood to stare at a woman. She forced her gaze away from the rippling muscles of his back and swung around behind her aunt’s big tent. Feder’s song faded to whistling.

Her aunt was weaving in the shade of the awning. Seeing Kirya, she set down her shuttle. “There you are, Kiri. Take that milk to Edina. Then you and Mari take an offering to the holy Singer’s tent and get his blessing for the marriage. Then go round to see if the Oliski tribe has come in. I want to talk to Mother Oliski as soon as she is ready to negotiate.”

“Yes, Aunt. Can I take the little ones? They’d like to see all the different people.”

“There’ll be time for that later.”

“What about just Kontas, then? He’s old enough to—”

“No. I don’t want them underfoot to get in your way or say the wrong thing. We need the blessing of the Singer if we hope for a marriage.”

Mariya had her head down, polishing the silver necklaces, bracelets, and headpieces that made up the riches of the tent.

“The cloth I found might be a powerful gift, Aunt. We can expect something better than the Oliski tribe’s castoffs.”

“Did I ask for your opinion, Kirya?”

“No, Aunt, you did not.”

“Then do as I say.”

“Yes, Aunt.”

Beyond the shelter of the awning, her youngest aunt, Edina, was hanging strips of meat to dry in the sun, singing the first verse of a child’s counting song over and over because it was the only verse she knew. The churn had already been set up for the sheep’s milk. Kirya poured the milk into the churn, savoring the rich aroma. She unhooked the ladle from the churn and dipped out a portion for herself. After drinking it down, she licked her lips. Wind sighed in the canvas of the tent, inhaling and exhaling. She carried a ladleful of milk into the tent.

Mother lay on her side, propped on pillows, but she was asleep. The illness had ravaged her, a nest of agony inside her bones. She so rarely fell into a true sleep that Kiri couldn’t bear to wake her even for a sip of strengthening milk.

Back outside, Mariya had gathered up a leather bag with the best haunch of meat inside, as well as a length of backstrap sinew suitable for presentation to the holy one. Defiantly, she wore the beaded nets, and she gave Kirya a strong stare to warn her not to say anything, so Kirya said nothing, just slung the bag along her shoulders and headed out toward the distant smoke of gathered fires. Mari hurried along behind.

In any confluence, tribes sited their camps according to an unspoken order. A tribe as weak and poor as theirs had to set up their tents on the fringe of the confluence grounds, well away from the well-connected and rich tribes around which the councils and settlements and marriage offers would pool. They had to tramp through tall grass for quite a ways, passing well-guarded herds of sheep and horses, before the sprawl of the major encampments came into view, and then they had to trudge through the lesser granddaughter tribes and the tribes losing position owing to raids or famine in their herds and inward to the positions of greater importance.