“Agni sat at his father’s side when he was not dancing among the men. The king was stronger and more hale to look at than he had been since Agni could remember. He looked almost young again. He even danced the Stallion Dance with the rest of the men, whirling and stamping and shouting, shaking his long white mane and laughing, light as a boy. Some of the new-made men were gone long before the sun rose, Agni could well imagine where. But although many a pair of eyes smiled at him over a veil, non...e was the color of water below a brow as white as bone. Rudira was not among the women. He searched for her as best he could with so many eyes on him, so many people watching. Neither she nor Yama was anywhere to be seen. No one spoke of Yama as absent. Agni saw his tent in the rounds of the dance, set where it always was, somewhat west of the king’s. And yet he had not shown his face at this great rite, nor had his wife slipped away to see if her lover had returned. That was the only stain on Agni’s joy, that she could not see it.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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