Emeravwe went through the next day much as she had the previous—almost delirious with joy. And she did not let the Omote's teasing despoil her mood. When they smelled the scent of the oil on her and rudely questioned her, she answered prudently that Aye Omojewe acquired it for her.
Even when Omote Oluchi and Ngozi, who were among the Omote she worked with that day, began to harass her with the topic that hurt her most, of her origins, Emeravwe found the courage to confront them.
"I cannot believe we are stuck outside on such a hot day!" Omote Oluchi grumbled. They were cleaning one of the large stages behind the Bureau of Music and Royal Performers. "And working beside a worthless, valued child at that! I get enough of you in our chambers!" she said, flinging her wet rag so it smacked Emeravwe in the eye as she walked by.
Emeravwe wiped her face, blinking against the tears of pain till they disappeared.
This was nothing; she was used to such treatment.
"How did a nameless child end up in the palace anyway?" an Omote they worked with questioned. "Only children from known noble families can serve in the palace."
"How else?" Omote Ngozi said, "It must be because not even the ruby they slapped on her forehead could cover up how worthless she is. So, her parents decided to throw her away here. They were so ashamed they even asked the Aye to keep their clan name a secret!"
"What a waste of a perfectly good ruby!" another Omote mocked.
"You feel bad for the gem, but what about us?" Omote Oluchi griped, "We have to see her useless face every day just because her parents did not want to. How unfair!"
The Omote burst in laughter. And though Emeravwe was used to such taunts, they hurt, nonetheless.
It was then that she remembered what Eunuch Aslan said, and her pulse quickened nervously.
She sat breathing deeply on the stage. Then clenched her fists and got shakily to her feet.
"Th-the palace is no place for parents to abandon children," she began meekly. Her voice rose as she continued, "That is an insult to the Orodje and if you say it again, I will report you to the Bureau of Corrections!"
The Omote stared. Her retaliation took them all by surprise, including herself, for she had never confronted them in such a manner. Omote Oluchi and Ngozi scoffed at her, but they returned to their work and did not harass her again that day.
Emeravwe was exhilarated by her new-found strength. She went about the rest of the day with her head held just a little higher, her insides a riot of giddiness.
She had her new friend to thank for it all!
That night, Eunuch Aslan did come to the garden, and Emeravwe told him all about the wondrous day she had had and how she stood up to Omote Oluchi and Ngozi.
He said little as he sat rigidly on the bench, but he listened pleasantly.
Emeravwe noticed his formal carriage—his yellow headcloth reminded her of his superior status—yet felt strangely at ease with him.
Because of his headcloth, she suspected he was a Eunuch of the Royal Secretariat. Since only those who worked in the Royal Secretariat or the Inner Palace wore yellow. (But as Eunuchs of the Inner Palace did not frequent the Outer Palace, Emeravwe was sure he was the previous.)
Despite their difference in rank and his stiff bearing, she found she was not as meek around him as she was with the Maidens. She spoke without reserve until he saw it was getting late and advised her to return to the Maidens' Quarters. He bid her good night and watched her go.
It was thus that Emeravwe spent her time in her new friend's company. She went to the garden each night to await his arrival, though he did not always come. On such nights she returned to her chambers thoroughly disappointed.
But on nights on which he did, she spoke to him tirelessly: about her education to become an Omote, her maltreatment by the other Maidens because she was a valued child, and the strenuous work of the Bureau of Halls and Chambers.
She reasoned that she felt so relaxed with Eunuch Aslan because, though he bore formal airs, he encouraged her to speak without restriction. He gave her freedom to express herself however and as much as she pleased. This was something she could do nowhere else in the palace, so Emeravwe readily welcomed his company.
However, there were several occasions when she caught him watching her with an awfully sorrowful look. Whenever she saw that look, she worried she might be burdening him. But he always set her mind at ease again with his warm amber eyes and gentle smile.
Thanks to him, Emeravwe now had something to look forward to each day, and time in the palace no longer seemed to drag on.
Before she knew it, a month had passed, and then three.
One night, Aslan asked her how she was faring with the other Omote.
Emeravwe danced happily around the garden. She wove in and out of the plants around the pond as she hummed a song they sang at the Palace Chapel that past Edidjana*.
Since her last confrontation with the Omote they had, for the most part, left her alone.
The Aye of the Bureau of Halls and Chambers somehow discovered that some Omote shirked their duties, and doled out punishment by cutting their wages. Many of them suspected Emeravwe reported them, so now they scorned her silently.
"And what of Omote Oluchi and Omote Ngozi?" Aslan asked when she told him about the Omote. "Do they still trouble you?"
"Mm, sometimes," she answered, jumping from stone to stone around the pond. "But they have found someone else to trouble. And I am glad because I get my fill of them in our chambers!"
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, hiking up her skirt and jumping from one of the stones to land squarely before Aslan.
As she rose from her landing squat, she lost her balance and tumbled head-long into his waiting arms.
She burst in giggles as he helped her upright. Inexplicably, she had known he would catch her. That he did just so filled her with ticklish warmth.
"Miguo, Aslan," she thanked him with a broad grin, addressing him by his name alone, for he had given her permission.
"Vrendo," he answered, his own smile soft. "Tell me, Emeravwe, who is this Omote who Omote Oluchi and Omote Ngozi have been troubling? Do you know her?"
She shook her head, and climbed on the bench to settle beside him. "Uh-uh. I have worked with her in the bureau, but I have never spoken to her. She is very short and tiny, and the other Omote tease her because of this. They also call her a name. Hmm, what was it?" She placed a finger on her chin in thought.
Aslan watched her with a slight tilt of his head. "And this makes you glad?"
Emeravwe faced him, her heart sinking as she remembered her words. "N-no! No, I just—I…"
She lowered her head in shame. Tears welled in her eyes as a familiar lump rose in her throat.
That was not what she meant. She did not want Aslan to think badly of her. He was the only one she could freely speak with in all the Sun's Court. If she lost him, she did not know what she would do.
She felt Aslan's hand rest lightly on her head and apprehensively lifted her teary gaze to his.
Petting her head reassuringly, he said, "You are simply glad the Omote no longer harass you, correct?"
She gave a timid nod, and the tears fell.
"That is all right," he assured her. "It is only natural that you should be happy in such a case. However, you have suffered much because of the Omote's harassment, have you not?"
She nodded.
"I am sure this Omote is also suffering. Perhaps you could try to help her."
Drying her tears, she looked up at him questioningly. "How?"
Aslan said, "Perhaps she is like you, and simply needs a friend."