The Ugly One (10 page)

“I think I'm too big. I have never seen another pregnant woman like this,” she said. The Paqo and I nodded. It was true. Tica's middle was rounder than Mama Killa at her fullest.

“New Voice, why is she so large?” the Paqo asked.

I studied Tica with my hands and my heart, listening to the spirits around us and the new life growing inside her. Tica massaged her back, which was clearly paining her. The life within her moved. It was strong, but there was a strangeness to this movement that made me ask, “Are there two babies?”

The Paqo smiled. “I believe so.”

Tica's eyes grew wide in surprise. “Two babies? Are they healthy?”

The spirits didn't speak to me of any troubles inside her, just the two heartbeats. “They seem to be,” I said.

“No wonder I'm so big!” Tica laughed in relief as she rubbed her belly.

“We can give you medicine that will help with the swelling,” I told her. “But I think it won't be long before the babies are ready to be born.”

Tica left the
wasi
kissing her fingers and offering both of us her thanks. The Paqo and I smiled at each other. The birth of one child was cause enough for celebration. Two babies was a bountiful gift from the gods.

The very next day I saw Tica carrying a new blanket through the center of the
llaqta
, waddling as she went. I offered to carry it for her, and she accepted with a look of gratitude. We walked slowly, Tica with both hands pressed firmly against her lower back, me admiring the blanket's intricately woven patterns of leaves and feathers.

“It's for the babies,” she explained.

“It's beautiful,” I told her. Sumac bobbed his head and squawked his bird agreement from my shoulder, causing Tica to laugh. Then he lowered his head carefully under her chin and held it there, something he had only ever done with me before.

“He is asking you to pet his head,” I said in surprise.

Carefully, Tica raised her hand and petted him. “Like this?” she asked. Sumac moved his head to the other side, showing her his favorite spot.

“Yes. I think he likes you very much!”

The Handsome One grabbed a piece of Tica's hair in his beak and preened it slowly, carefully. “I think you're right,” she replied with a pleased smile.

We chatted about the babies as we made our way to Tica's home, and she thanked me as she took the blanket from me and went inside. I'm certain that this casual talk as we walked side by side through the village for all to see was a small thing for Tica, tinier than a pebble, but it meant so much more to me. I wondered if this was what it felt like to have a human friend.

13

T
WO
moons passed before I realized that danger lurked in the shadows, licking its lips and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I had thought Ucho was done tormenting me, but he came back with a surprising vengeance.

I was lying on the ground after my morning sun prayer, watching Sumac fly in the sky world. I had tried often to repeat my magical flight with him, and it is true I had joined the Handsome One many times as he soared through the air. But I wasn't certain it was the same. I think I was reliving the memory of the first time I had flown with him rather than joining him in spirit again. Every day, he stayed in the sky a little longer and flew a bit farther away. And each time he left, my heart beat more quickly, both in hope that this time I would join him right and true, and in fear that he would choose to stay with Inti forever rather than return to me.

On this morning, Sumac had flown far enough that I could no longer see him. I squinted against the bright rays of Inti and kept my eyes on the horizon, thinking the same words I always did when he flew too far away:
Come back to me
.

Suddenly, a large clump of dirt hit me in the face, exploding into many smaller pieces that filled my eyes and nose, making me cough and sputter. I stood quickly. Ucho's cruel laughter echoed slightly as he strode toward me. I rubbed the dirt from my face and ran my fingers through my hair to cover my scarred cheek. It was a gesture I had repeated countless times in the past, but ever since Sumac had chosen my right shoulder as his constant perch, I hadn't needed it. The thick black strands fell over my right eye, but I watched Ucho with my left as if he were a jaguar ready to pounce. At least he was alone.

“Finally, that feathered menace is gone long enough that I can do what I want!” Ucho snarled.

He pushed me roughly, but I stood stiff and tall. I would not let him knock me over. I would not let him see my fear.

“
You
might think we're finished, but we're not,” Ucho went on. “I don't care that you fixed my brother's shoulder. There is no balance between us, Ugly One! My mother rambles on and on to me about you. I know I must be in your future, and I won't ignore my duty. But I warn you, I will make you miserable every day.”

His scarred nose and hot breath were too close to my face. His anger pulsed its way through my skin and squeezed my heart. Why did he hate me so? Were these new threats because of what Sumac had done to his nose? Or did Ucho torment me because I was so ugly?

“And that evil shaman friend of yours? He won't be protecting you much longer!” Ucho continued with another shove. “There is already talk of sending him away. He is the reason the rains don't come. All the people are saying so. They will drive him out of the village forever, and they will kill your bird. Then I will come for you, Loathsome One!” He shook his head in disgust. “That hair doesn't hide anything. My scar is nothing compared with yours. You are hideous. Who would ever choose a life with you? I would poke out my eyes so I wouldn't have to gaze upon such a hideous wife.”

A loud squawking from above suddenly gave me hope. I risked glancing upward, and true enough, Sumac was flying toward us. I was filled with gratitude, but taking my eyes from Ucho was a mistake. He seized the opportunity to push me off my feet. I landed on my side with such force, my breath rushed past my lips. As I lay on the earth, dust rising up in a thick haze, Sumac plummeted toward me with a loud cry. There was no confusing the sound he made. He would attack Ucho with his entire feathered being. Ucho realized this, for he scrambled off just before the Handsome One landed next to me.

I felt a pain above my eye, and when I put my hand to my forehead, it was wet and sticky. I pulled my fingers away and saw a small smear of blood, as red as Sumac's regal back. A sharp rock glistened next to me on the ground. I must have hit my head on it when I fell. Sumac bobbed his head in agitation. I reached out with my other hand and petted him, trying to soothe him as much as myself.

I considered telling someone about Ucho's attack. Ucho had often hurt me with his words, but never before with his hands. This wasn't the way of our people. But what if he blamed Sumac? What if it was decided that the bird was somehow at fault? I couldn't risk losing my feathered companion. He was so much more than a friend to me. He was my shield in life, my link to Beyond, my connection to my own self. I held him close to my face, breathing in his feathery belly, trying to reassure both of us.

As soon as I felt steady, I rose and made my way to the Paqo's
wasi
. He was the one person who could comfort me and bring stillness to my spirit. Thoughts spun about in my mind like a swirl of dust caught in the wind, but the ones that spiraled back the strongest were Ucho's words about the shaman.
He is the reason the rains don't come. They will drive him out of the village forever
.

***

The Paqo and I sat outside his
wasi
by a small fire he had built. He had treated my forehead with a poultice of dried plant leaves mixed with water.

“It's a small scrape. There will be no scar,” he said, but his voice was detached, and his eyes studied the faraway mountains, as if he were not truly with me.

“Thank you,” I said. Then, to lighten the heaviness I felt, I added, “I didn't think I needed another one.”

This brought a chuckle from my teacher. “Scars are interesting things, New Voice. Ucho will carry the one on his nose for the rest of his days.”

“I think he must be very angry about that,” I replied.

“Who would be happy to gain such a scar?”

I touched the river skin by my lip. Ucho's nose wasn't nearly as horrid to look upon as my disfigured face. Then again, he hadn't given me my scar, and I was partly responsible for his.

“He said he will make me miserable for the rest of my days.”

“The boy speaks rashly. He lives up to his name, Hot Pepper.” The Paqo sighed. He spoke slowly now, and each word seemed weighted with meaning. “Names are interesting things.”

I studied my feet as I whispered, “Yes.”

“Your sister, she calls you Micay.”

“Yes. It's my birth name.”

“Micay. Beautiful Round Face.”

“I've been told I was a beautiful baby with a perfect, round face,” I said. It was impossible for me to imagine this baby self. I had always been the Ugly One. Beautiful Round Face was some other person, some other baby, not me.

The Paqo said, “Strange how close the two names are. Micay. Millay. Beauty and horror just a click of the tongue apart. One moment in time, and a life veers off on a different path.”

“Yes.”

We sat in silence. The fire cracked and popped.

“Why do you sit on the rock?” he asked.

I didn't understand. My bottom rested flat upon the earth. But then, I never knew when an unexpected question might wind its way to me from the shaman. “I'm not sitting on a rock,” I said cautiously, wary of a trick from my teacher.

“The rock you sit on so often. Why do you sit on that rock?”

He meant my
huaca
. Did he know it held a spirit? I wondered if he might take it from me if I told him, but to lie to the shaman wasn't possible. “It holds power. It is a
huaca
.”

The Paqo waved his hand dismissively at what I had thought was an important revelation. “Of course it is a
huaca
. But there are many
huaca
. What drew you to that one?”

I had never wondered this before. “I'm not certain. I think it must have called to me.”

“It's good that you have it. You will need its strength,” the shaman said, and then his gaze fixed itself once again upon some faraway point. His eyes became distant, like secrets carved in stone.

I wanted to ask if I would need the strength of the
huaca
because the Paqo would be leaving soon. Were the people going to drive him away? Did he know this already? And I wondered, if he had truly been a mighty shaman in the capital city of Cuzco, why had he left there to come to our small, unimportant
llaqta
? Had he done something terrible? I needed him here with me. What would I do if he left? These questions lurked in my throat, but I remained quiet as I sat next to my teacher. As long as I didn't ask them, I didn't have to act on the answers.

***

It was as I sat on my rush mat, eating the meager evening meal with my family, that I gathered the courage to place my questions into the air for others to hear. “I've been told that the people blame the Paqo for the lack of rains,” I said, forcing my voice to be clear and steady. “I've heard they want to drive him out of the village. Is this true?”

Mama, Papa, and Chasca went still, their spoons frozen in midair. Only the steam from the quwi stew continued to move lazily upward, as if nothing unusual had just happened. Without them saying a word, I knew it was true. Ucho had been right.

The silence became awkward. Father cleared his throat, and I could see he was about to rattle off some nonsense. Chasca leaned toward me and spoke first. She put her hand softly on mine and smiled faintly. “Don't worry, Micay. They are too scared of the shaman to actually do it.”

I nodded at my sister, and my family continued with the meal, trying to pretend all was well when it was not. I wondered,
How long will it be before the people's fear of hunger overpowers their fear of my teacher?

14

T
HREE
worlds dwell within the night sky,” the Paqo said as he pointed toward the stars flickering their small, icy fires. We were lying on the ground studying the countless twinkling daughters of Inti and Mama Killa on this most important of nights, Capac Raymi. It was the shortest night of the year, the only night when, for one breathless moment at dawn, the barriers between this world and the spirit world were bridged.

“There is the below world, the land of the past and our ancestors, home of the ground-dwelling fox, the toad, and the mighty serpent.” The Paqo pointed low in the black cloth of the night sky, and there, in the pattern of the stars, were the ground animals. He continued. “Just above is this world, the place of now, the dwelling of the plants, the people, and the fierce jaguar.” Here he pointed to midsky and the stars outlining the jaguar ready to pounce. “And higher yet is the upper world, the future, home of the sky spirits, the rainbow, lightning, stars, sun, moon, and condor.” He pointed to the stars in the uppermost sky, drawing the shape of the condor in flight with his fingers.

The Paqo sat up, and I did the same. “Each animal has its own message, its own meaning,” he said. “The serpent below, the jaguar in the middle, and the condor above, one sitting atop the other. And all three worlds are connected through the spiral.” With his finger, he made a rising spiral in the night air. His voice was quiet and solemn as he asked, “But what else is there, New Voice, aside from the spiral, aside from these worlds?”

Like most people, I knew of the three worlds and the spiral connecting them. But I had not heard of anything else. “There is more?” I asked in surprise.