The Mapmaker's War (29 page)

You thought of Wei, then of the twin, the girl. Her weight against your leg. The boy was a shadow. Sorrow welled into you. As before, you will not get to keep this child. You had no doubt Sisay had peered into you. You could not conceive how she made sense of what she saw.

The old woman halted near your favorite stand of fir trees. She grasped your palms. Her gaze, fierce and loving, focused on you.

Had they not been, Wei could not be. This is a truth beyond fact.

Why? you asked.

That is beyond our understanding, said Sisay. You have served her well. Have no doubt.

AFTER SISAY WAS GONE, YOU DECIDED TO ASK WEI HOW SHE EXPERIenced her gifts. She had never spoken of the glimpse beyond her father and the horror of his scar. Aza's intervention was meant to spare her memory. If she retained any vestiges, she didn't speak of them. That instance had been the most extreme. You knew her glimpses didn't always yield physical proof like blood.

The two of you took an afternoon walk to the lake.

When you find your root and witness, what happens? Explain to me. I want to understand.

Look into the lake, Ahma. What do you see?

The reflection of the trees and sky around us.

She took your hand and led you to stand in another place.

And now.

I see the shallows below. A small cluster of fish. If I turn my gaze, I also see the trees and sky again.

Wei knelt on the bank and plunged her hand into the water.

Nothing has changed, but I'm in both places at once, said she.

An echo tingled your bones.

When you were a little girl, Ahma, you knew, but you didn't know what it meant.

How do you know that? you asked.

I peeked. I apologize.

A hardness formed inside of you. Wei flinched. In moments like that, you were afraid of your daughter. Still. To be guarded all the time was impossible. You did your best to accept her gifts and that she was a child still learning to use them. Yet when she penetrated your life before, you feared what she could know. You willed yourself to take her hand with gentleness. Wei's fingers hummed in your grasp.

Wei, remember what Aza, Edik, and Sisay told you. We discuss this now and then.

I must respect every person's sheath.

Yes. Do you not have thoughts you wish to keep to yourself? you asked.

I do.

As do I and Ahpa and everyone else.

I mean no harm, said she. But sometimes I can help when I glimpse. If people let me.

WINTER SETTLED ON THE LAND. THE LONG WAIT FOR SPRING HAD begun. The wait to learn Wei's fate ended.

Edik and an elder visited your home one afternoon. Leit fed the fire as they sat with her. They told her she had been chosen to be a Voice on the trails. She would translate for her Guardian companions when that was needed. Her role was to protect them and Egnis through her awareness. If she heard or felt that any persons were in danger, she was to tell her companions. They, not she, would be responsible to thwart the possible harm and settle all into balance.

They explained that she would be away from her home, family, and friends for seasons at a time. There would be long visits in between to rest. She may withdraw her service if she no longer felt fulfilled. She wouldn't be asked to serve past her fourteenth year.

Wei sat still as they spoke to her. She paid close attention. She smiled and nodded. They said she was to make the decision from her heart. She was to talk to her parents and friends if she wished, but they were not to interfere. She must decide for herself.

No surprise. Wei was a decisive child who consulted but did not depend on you or Leit. You tried your best not to influence her about the trails. In truth, you didn't want her to go. The separation from you was one matter, but more so were the dangers she would face. The mothers born among knew by hearsay what was beyond your peaceful borders. You knew by experience. You had not forgotten.

Leit was as conflicted as you. He loved his daughter with affection, respect, and tenderness. He was proud of your little girl. As to her gifts, he confessed to awe. Leit had traveled with several Voices and knew Wei's abilities far surpassed theirs.

In the quiet of your bed, Leit admitted that he wished Wei wouldn't go. He knew the pain Wei would feel. The people felt sorrow for what the warriors sacrificed, but the warriors felt a unique sorrow for the Voices. The girls sacrificed their innocence to confront the neglect, cruelty, and violence away from their homes.

He hoped she would serve as Aza and Edik did, safe within a settlement. He still believed the war unleashed a darkness that would claim more than it would spare. He worried that the world away had the power to shatter a child as beautiful as Wei.

Some nights, Leit sat next to your sleeping daughter. The past crept into the space he left next to you. You thought of your father. He didn't encourage but also did not deny your mapmaking apprenticeship, then duties. He acknowledged you served a greater purpose, whether he liked it or not. Your beloved spouse understood Wei was called to higher service as well. You wondered, for a moment, what these two men would think of each other.

Leit returned to bed and pulled you against his chest. He held you while he could. His time to return to the trails approached. Your daughter's entry would follow in his footsteps.

I WILL, SAID WEI.

Not, I want to, or I wish to. I will.

Settled, then. Your daughter had chosen for herself. Leit gathered her in his arms. Wei kissed his wet cheeks.

I'm brave like you, Ahpa, said she.

Braver, said he.

Soon after Wei agreed to be a Voice on the trails, she turned seven. You and Leit had pondered a gift for her. You decided to give her the dolls within dolls, presented to you at her birth. She played with them more than with her own toys. Wei jumped with glee.

Thank you, Ahma, said she. They are so beautiful, like you and me.

She celebrated the day among friends. She asked for musicians to entertain. You provided players on string, pipe, and drum. The children danced with joined hands, snakes and circles in the snow. You loved to watch her in those moments. She was fluid and graceful. The love around her made her buoyant. She ran to you and pulled your hand. Come, Ahma, said she. Join the dance. You surrendered to her joy.

The next time you danced with your daughter, it was before her goodbye.

You were told of the ritual to honor Wei's new role. She and you had parts to play. Wei needed a simple white frock. You required a specific costume. A young man known for his skills with cloth and thread was elated that you asked him to provide the raiment. He gathered talented friends to help him complete the task. When they were finished, you studied their effort with amazement. The costume lay before you full of life.

The ritual was held on a beautiful cool spring night. All the people of the settlement gathered on the plain. Hundreds of men, women, and children ate, drank, sang, and danced to celebrate your daughter's duty. They hugged, kissed, and thanked her. Nothing in your life prepared you for their sincere love.

Leit drew you from the perimeter of the wide swirling circle to the center. He stood ahead of the ranks of warriors. They wore their ceremonial best. In front of them was a mountain of wood that rose toward the sky. Aza gave you an unlit torch. Leit opened a tinderbox red with the want of flames. You placed the moss end of the torch inside. The fire took its breath. You touched the tongues to the wood and watched the pyre ignite.

So it begins! Aza shouted.

She led you and Wei to the forest margin. Your closest friends separated you to prepare each for the ritual. They sang songs of joy and songs of mourning. They gasped when you moved within the costume, animated that arcane skin.

A drum chorus resonated in your organs. The enactment began. A corridor opened from the forest to the fire. You felt the balanced weight of the red wings on your shoulders. You flapped with grace as you approached. The people who clapped fell into a hush as you walked among them.

Egnis, she who first saw All.

On the ground within the fire's glow was a child. Its skin was blue from head to toe. It wore a loose white garment. You brushed your giant head from its feet to its crown. The child jumped up, alive.

Egnis and Azul danced. They circled the flames opposite each other in perfect orbit. The drums beat faster, and the witnesses hummed. The drone became a force that drew them together. The Red Dragon and the Orphan linked hands. They twirled around the fire until the dragon took the child in her arms. Azul disappeared in Egnis's embrace, then rose again. The child tossed jewels into the circle around them. A rain of stars.

Leit ran toward Wei. He lifted his daughter on his shoulder. He wore the warrior's blue tunic with a gold breastplate embossed with a coiled dragon. | made by Ingot | He placed Wei on the ground where you knelt. Wei took off your mask. She kissed the full moon of your face as you held her.

Aza and the council of elders stood before Wei. Edik opened a small box. He withdrew a pendant on a chain. Circle, triangle, square. Everyone, everyone, knelt as he placed the object around her neck.

Forged by Ingot, kissed by Incant, hallowed by Egnis, this gold amulet marks your transition. You danced in the skin of the Beloved Child, and you will continue within your own to keep our promise to the Three and the promise they asked of us, said he.