“You said this started as a Hindu practice,” Cassie remarked. “Is a Kumari in India as big a deal as in Nepal?”
Griffin shook his head. “There are festivals in India where a Kumari is honored for a day or two, sometimes only an hour or two. However, in Nepal she’s a permanent fixture.”
“Then why is she so important here?” the pythia persisted.
The scrivener paused to consider her question. The twins remained silent during this interchange, listening intently.
“I suspect the importance of the Kumari to the Nepalese may stem from the importance of the divinity she represents. Although Durga is the name of a Hindu deity, her origins can be traced back to an ancient mountain goddess worshipped by the tribes who inhabited the Himalayas.”
“Wait a second.” Cassie stopped him. “I remember you saying there was a sky goddess who lived at Mount Kailash and that she was older than Hinduism and Buddhism.”
“Well spotted.” The scrivener smiled approvingly. “The sky goddess Sipaimen of the indigenous Bön religion is said to dwell at Kailash. In all probability, she is the prototype for the Hindu Durga. Since the people of the Himalayas already viewed the source of creation as female, that tradition continues in their reverence for the Kumari.”
Griffin’s lecture was interrupted by the appearance of their waiter bearing a tray of salads. Hands flew in all directions as condiments and plates of bread and butter were passed around the table. After that, conversation was suspended while the quartet gave their undivided attention to their food.
As they ate in silence, Cassie carried on an internal debate regarding the qualifications of her new associates. She liked the twins, but they both exuded an air of innocence and joviality that made her question whether they were up to the challenge of a relic hunt, especially one as dangerous as the pursuit of the Sage Stone. She realized she was the last person who ought to discount them simply because they were young. The pythia remembered her own resentment when Erik dismissed her as incompetent without even giving her a chance to prove herself on their first mission. Still, she felt that somebody ought to vet the twins before she and Griffin trusted the newbies with their lives.
When the waiter returned to clear the plates away, Cassie folded her arms on the table and leaned forward to scrutinize the twins. “You say you’re from California? When did your family come to America?”
“Some time after World War Two,” Rinchen replied.
“They were the lucky ones,” Rabten remarked. “Our grandparents on both sides of the family lived in Lhasa. They were prosperous enough to afford to leave when they saw the way the political wind was blowing. Right before the Chinese invaded Tibet, they made themselves scarce.”
“Then where does the Arkana connection come in?”
“Our parents met while they were both studying at Berkeley,” said Rinchen. “The Tibetan-American community on the west coast is pretty small, so everybody knows everybody else. Our dad majored in archaeology and mom was an anthropologist. Both of them ended up as professors. Eventually, the Arkana found them, and they were recruited—”
“—when we got old enough they told us about their work and offered us a chance to join. We decided that the family business sounded pretty interesting.”
“But why did you guys get picked to work with us on this retrieval?” Cassie still couldn’t see an obvious reason for their involvement other than ethnicity.
Rabten looked at Rinchen. They seemed to hesitate.
“I’ll start,” offered Rabten.
“No, you always get to start. I’ll start,” Rinchen countered.
“Fine.”
Rinchen, the twin in the black shirt, began the narrative. “We were doing research interviewing villagers in some of the more remote parts of the country where polyandry is still being practiced. It used to be the norm throughout the Himalayas.”
“Polyandry,” Cassie repeated. “You mean one wife with multiple husbands.”
“Yes,” Rabten agreed. “But in these cases, it’s usually fraternal polyandry meaning all the brothers in the family marry the same woman.”
“I always thought polygyny was screwy enough where one guy marries a dozen women,” the pythia observed. “But why would anybody think polyandry is a good idea?”
“Allow me to explain,” Griffin interjected. “Polyandry is a natural form of birth control. It limits population growth. Whereas polygyny can produce a frightening number of offspring, polyandrous families are limited to the breeding capacity of a single woman. In geographic regions like the Himalayas where resources are scarce, polyandry prevents the land from becoming overburdened with excess population. Fraternal polyandry, where all the brothers in one family marry a single wife, is also very useful in preventing squabbles over property.”
“But how do they know who fathered each kid?” Cassie protested.
“The mother always decides,” Rabten answered.
“Of course, the eldest brother is called ‘Father’ by the whole family and all the younger brothers are called ‘uncle,’” Rinchen said.
“And everybody is happy with this arrangement?” The pythia’s tone was dubious.
“They seem to be—”
“—from what we’ve observed.”
“Polyandry has been around for thousands of years,” Griffin remarked. “In Kerala which we recently visited, the Nair caste was polyandrous until about a hundred years ago. In contrast, polygyny is favored by overlord cultures. Because overlords live by the sword, a certain percentage of the adult male population is always killed off in their endless bouts of warfare. This would leave a surplus female population and also a need to produce more male offspring as cannon fodder. Actually, spear fodder might be the more accurate term.”
“If polyandry is still so popular in the Himalayas, I’m guessing overlord values didn’t gain much of a foothold here,” Cassie speculated.
The scrivener
