Authors: Wendy Orr
Dragonfly Song (17 page)
Kelya is alone, sitting on a stool to sort seeds by feel, when Lyra brings Aissa in. âI've brought you No-Name,' she says. âI have an idea.'
Aissa hears a tremor in the young woman's voice.
Kelya's the boss!
she thinks.
Just like Squint-Eye with the servants.
If a wise-woman is nervous, an outcast servant should be terrified. But as Aissa approaches the old woman, something in her relaxes.
âLittle one!' says Kelya. âCome here; sit.' She points at the floor in front of her, and Aissa obediently squats at her feet. The wise-woman reaches down, sighing as she runs her hands over Aissa's face.
âCall Lena and Roula,' she says to Lyra.
She doesn't speak while Lyra's gone, except to sigh, âLittle one!' again, but she goes on stroking Aissa's hair.
The others return, staring in surprise at No-Name squatting by Kelya's feet. Roula shuts the door behind them.
Aissa tries to be invisible, but it's impossible when they're all studying her. All she can do is sit still as stone, forcing her legs not to get up and run away.
âI found her picking the mushrooms left for the goddess,' says Lyra.
Lena hisses in shock.
âI beat her!' Lyra assures them.
Roula and her mother nod in approval.
âBut she scattered them in appeasement when I told her,' Lyra continues. âShe did it well â and she'd gathered the mushrooms with respect. For someone raised in the servants' kitchen, she seems to understand the hills and their plants.'
Kelya doesn't mention that she used to take Aissa up into the hills for herbs herself, when the girl was tiny. It never hurts to keep a few secrets for when you need them. âShe always used to gather the kitchen greens for the twins,' she says.
I thought nobody knew that!
Aissa thinks.
What else does she know?
Watching from beneath her lashes, she sees that Lena and Roula are shocked, but Lyra looks a bit more sure of herself.
âSo my idea is: what if she became a gatherer for us?'
âBut she's a servant!' says Lena.
âShe can't be an apprentice!' splutters Roula.
âNot an apprentice,' Lyra says quickly, âa servant-gatherer â just for us. To help Roula.'
Kelya hides a smile.
âShow them your sling,' Lyra orders.
Aissa stands up. She hands Kelya her rope sling, and her cloak as well. Kelya starts in surprise as her fingers sink into the thick wolf fur, and finally she smiles, as if she's made up her mind.
âJust for a moment, let's think of this child as a girl, not a servant. A girl with skills at hunting as well as gathering â she's known what to pick to survive since she was thrown out of the kitchen.'
I'm glad they don't know about the figs and the diarrhoea!
Aissa thinks.
âA girl who will never speak of our secrets,' Kelya concludes.
âA girl to keep out of the Lady's way,' Lena reminds her.
âWe don't need to bother the Lady with servant affairs. We're simply taking one that the kitchen doesn't want.'
Aissa squats
at the wise-woman's feet
while the others pull their stools
in a circle around her,
listening
with ears and heart,
mind whirling
but not with fear â
or not so much â
wondering if she can believe
what she hears:
she's going to be safe.
Maybe even
better than safe.
âStand, child,' says Kelya at last,
âthis is my decision:
from this time on
you will serve only us,
learning the herbs
and plants we gather
for healing and wisdom.
You will sleep in this chamber
on a fleece by my bed.
Roula will bring you
food when she's eaten,
for you don't belong in the Hall
and aren't safe in the kitchen â
though I shall make it known
that you belong to us
and are not to be harmed.
No-Name is the label of a slave.
A server to wise-women
can't bear a slave's name.
From now on you'll be known
as the wise-women's server.
And in this room,
or alone with us,
you'll be called by your name:
Aissa.
Aissa's never known
there could be tears for joy.
She cries so hard
she has to hide her hot face
on the cold stone floor
and kisses
Kelya's feet.
Because safety is good
but having a name is better.
It's not till dark,
lying by Kelya's bed
on a clean thick fleece
with her wolf fur on top,
her belly full
of hot thick soup,
that other thoughts hit,
hard as Lena's stick:
she will never sleep
with the cats again;
feel Gold-Cat's warmth
under her chin;
hear the murmuring purr
of dozing kittens.
She's happy to leave
her treasures of rock and shell,
goddess-thanks patterned in the dust,
but losing the cats
tears at her heart.
And so does knowing
she will never again lie
in her secret place
to spy on the Lady's magic,
or hear the snake song
as if it were for her.
She chooses safety
but the price is high.
And with that thought,
there's a sound at the door.
Aissa jumps in fear
that Squint-Eye's coming â
the goddess punishing her
for mourning the loss
of her outcast freedom.
But the sound is Gold-Cat,
mewing impatiently
because he's left his mother
and siblings behind
and is waiting to scamper
onto Aissa's mat
to sleep under her chin.
The wise-women are much more than healers and midwives.
They collect health-giving herbs from all over the island, from beach to mountain top. Each plant tells its own story, as do the spiders spinning their webs, the birds in the trees and the crabs on the beach. The wise-women listen to them all, so they know better than anyone whether the coming season is going to be hard, hotter or drier or wetter than usual. They keep track of the moon's phases and the sun's warmth, and know if the figs will ripen early and the best day to plant beans.
It's also their business to know what's going on with the islanders. People tell secrets when they're worried or in pain, and healers hear them. Women gathering greens in the sunshine sometimes forget who they're talking to, and say more than they intend. They gossip about mean-spirited neighbours and loving relatives; about a fisher who's lost his luck or a herder her goats.
The wise-women's real wisdom is that they'll listen to anyone, even the servants. Servants not only spill their masters' secrets â sometimes their own are worth listening to.
Yet the wise-women are also the only people the Lady truly trusts. It's their knowledge that lets her judge exactly what each islander owes the goddess. It's their wisdom that guides her on the dates for sowing and harvesting.
Until twelve years ago, the Lady went out into the fields and hills herself. She observed the birds and took what she saw back to the sanctuary to tell the snakes. She danced in the sacred mountain spaces until she felt the goddess speak.
But the goddess hasn't spoken to the Lady since the night she sent her baby daughter to be killed. She lives in fear of displeasing the gods again, and goes out only for the ceremonies that demand it. And although she still reads the oracle, she always sends for Kelya before she starts. Her maid is sent out, the door is closed, and voices murmur for an hour or two until finally the Lady goes to the snakes' cave to read the future.
Now that Kelya is blind, she relies on the younger wise-women's sightings, and decides not only what is significant enough to be passed on to the Lady, but the best way to describe it. If a hawk carrying a dead dove is attacked by an eagle, is it more important that the hawk has lost its prey, or that it survived the eagle's attack? Or is the significance in the death of the dove? The signs are often so clear to Kelya that she can't help hinting how the oracle might interpret them.
So there are many reasons why Aissa can never become an apprentice. People aren't going to share their news with her, and she certainly can't be a midwife â no woman wants a cursed child delivering her baby. Even her spying skill is useless if she can't pass on what she's learned.
But Aissa's never dreamed of being an apprentice to anyone, let alone the wise-women. A full belly and not being spat at â those had been her dreams. Now she has food at every meal, even if she eats alone. The constant pain in her stomach disappears. Her arms and legs are filling out and she must even be getting taller, because in just one turning of the moon, her tunic has got shorter. Now it's a spare, for when her new one is being washed. She's safe, warm and fed; she's learning, listening and not being beaten â and as long as she sticks close to the wise-women, no one dares spit at her.
One cool, cloudy morning, out helping Roula dig up nettle roots for the winter, her hands stinging and her back aching, Aissa is suddenly so full of joy she feels she's going to burst. Roula stops to stretch and groan, but Aissa throws herself into a cartwheel â awkward at first, then whirling free, over and over down the hill.
She can't imagine she could ever ask for more.
Roula is glad
to have a servant under her
though she wishes that Aissa
could eat in the kitchen
and that she, Roula,
wise-women's apprentice,
didn't have to serve food
to her servant.
And sometimes
when she sees Gold-Cat purring
on Aissa's chest
she wonders how a servant
can have a cat
when the cats belong to the Lady
and Roula can't have one.
But Kelya says
to bring the food,
don't ask about the cat,
and Roula knows better
than to disobey.
Not because of fear,
but because Kelya
is usually right â
and besides,
when she brings a meal
Aissa thanks her
with hand on heart and light in her eyes,
as grateful as if Roula
were the Lady herself.
Aissa knows
that Roula doesn't like her,
but she likes that Roula
is kind anyway,
or at least, not unkind.
She feels Lyra and Lena watching
to see what she does wrong
as if they haven't decided yet
what they think of her.
But now that Kelya doesn't care
what the world thinks,
now that Aissa is finally
under her protection
in the wise-women's chamber,
the gentleness of her hands
on Aissa's face
sometimes feels
like the licking of Milli-Cat's tongue
on her precious kittens.
But there's still fear
in the pit of her belly
when she leaves the warm room
to pass the kitchen
or the market square.
She'd thought she'd be glad
to imagine the rage
of the twins or Squint-Eye,
at knowing she's safe â
but when she sees
Half-One pale on a bench
or Half-Two strutting her hate
her body doesn't know it's safe
and shivers.
And now
on her way back from the servants' privy â
the path clear, no one around â
the servants are all
in front of the kitchen
laughing
at Half-Two in a frenzy,
furious because
her sister's still not quite her sister.
She blames Aissa
but can't touch her,
so she's thrashing Pigeon-Toe,
screaming that the floor's not clean,
lashing out with feet and hands.
The little boy's cries
go to Aissa's heart,
and white rage rises
from her belly
to her burning eyes.
No time for fear,
she shoves through the crowd â
servants or townfolk, she doesn't care â
grabbing raging Half-Two
by the shoulders,
so they both fall backwards
with the twin on top
and Pigeon-Toe free,
running as fast as he can
away from the fight.
The crowd laughing harder,
shouting and jeering
as Half-Two scrambles up,
sees her attacker,
howls in horror
and jumps with both feet
at Aissa's belly.
Aissa rolls
just in time â
but Half-Two swoops
and yanks her upright
by her hair â
Aissa has grown,
but Half-Two is still bigger.
Time goes slow;
Aissa can hear the whistle
of the twin's raging breath
above the shouts of the crowd,
the barking of dogs;
can see Half-Two's fist
pulling back for power,
flying towards her
like a charging ram,
and knows that at last
Half-Two is triumphant.
Time slower still,
waiting for the pain
that doesn't come
as Roula bellows, âStop!',
grabbing Half-Two's arm
so the punch never lands
and Aissa's hair is let go,
her head so loose
it might fall off.
The crowd disappears
as if they were never there,
and a guard arrives,
asking Roula
if she needs some help.
Roula doesn't say
he could have come sooner
but looks at him hard
till he stares at the ground,
and she says loud,
âIn case you've forgotten,
I am Roula,
daughter of the wise-woman Lena,
apprentice to the wise-women
who care for you
when you're ill â
as your sister is now;
who advise you
in times of trouble â
and I advise you now:
this girl is the server
to the wise-women and me,
under their protection
and mine.'
That night
Roula tells the story
and the wise-women smile.
Roula was right
to protect Aissa, they say,
and Aissa was right
to follow her heart
and protect someone smaller.
Aissa hadn't known
she was strong enough
to do it
or that someone could care enough
to do it for her â
or that both those things
could feel so good.
And in the next days
though little Pigeon-Toe
runs from Aissa
and Roula
as well as Half-Two,
Aissa becomes
not so much Roula's servant
but an almost-apprentice
as if Roula is teaching her
all that she can.