Moma smiled. It came over her wrinkled face slowly but it was a wide smile. For such an old woman, her teeth were very good. “That she would,” she agreed, pleased and thoughtful. “That she would.”
Something seemed to have been settled between the two women, something I did not grasp. They were both very pleased with themselves, as if they had reached an important accord. After that exchange, they traded, but in an oddly congenial manner. I sensed that Moma gave us very good value and she insisted on choosing for Olikea the largest dried mushrooms and the preserved herbs with the best color. She carefully folded our purchases into little packets made from woven reeds. The packets filled a substantial net bag. Some of Lisana’s jewelry she took in exchange, but the most of it Olikea returned to the pouch. At the last, however, Olikea held out a pair of large silver hoop earrings rimmed with drops of amber.
“Always you have been so kind to me,” Olikea told her. “Ever since I was a little girl, you always had a kind word for me. Please accept these as a gift, as a sign of our friendship. I know it would please my Great One if you wore them as a sign of the warmth he feels toward you.”
Olikea held them out in her palm, not to Moma but to me. Subtly she jostled her hip against mine. Soldier’s Boy took her hint. He lifted the earrings from her hands. Holding them delicately, so they dangled appealingly, he offered them to Moma. “I would be very pleased to see you wearing these.”
She lifted one hand from her cane. Her fingers were like a careful bird’s beak as she plucked the proffered earrings from his fingers. She did not hesitate. “Help me, please,” she begged Olikea in a hushed voice, and the young woman obliged. The silver and amber earrings dwarfed all the ones the old woman already wore. They glittered in the sunlight. Moma gave her head a slight shake and the earrings swung against her neck. “All will notice these,” she said with quiet satisfaction.
“That they will, and by them know how kindly you have treated this Great One and how highly he regards you.”
Moma nodded her head low to me and then reminded Olikea, “But you have not told me his name.”
“He has two, and both lie oddly on my tongue. The first is Soldier’s Boy. The second is Nevare Burvelle.”
“I fear these are not lucky names,” Moma replied with concern.