The Ugly One (18 page)

“I meant to ask it to take away my scar. I don't know why I asked for the rains. It was a mistake! I made a mistake!”

The mighty shaman raised his arms to the skies, and the winds quieted, as if he had commanded them to do so in order that he might speak. Even the rain sounded apologetic as it fell around us, tiptoeing its way to the earth. “It was no mistake,” he said. “The Sacred Rock has served you well.”

I concentrated on the Villac Uma's moving lips, trying to stay with his words. But I didn't understand what he meant. I clenched my hands together. The nails dug into my palms.

“We have known for some time that this drought would happen. We also knew that a young girl would rise to power and appease the spirits, but it would have to be the proper girl, right and true. The spirits told us this girl would be marked by one of their own so we would know her.” Here the Villac Uma raised his arm and traced his finger along my scar, reminding me of that long-ago day when the
yunka
stranger had done the same.

“The Paqo and I were both rising priests in the capital city. We knew one of us was destined to be the Villac Uma and the other was to find the Marked Girl and be certain she was the one. When we heard of a little child who had been scarred by a jaguar, the Paqo chose to move to her village to watch over her and be certain she was strong enough to follow her destined path. That child was you, Marked Girl.”

I couldn't accept that my teacher had kept such secrets from me, had allowed me to suffer as I had. “He knew? The Paqo knew all of this? Why would he keep this from me?”

“You had to find your voice and learn the way, the path of helping the people. We were watching to see if your choices showed us you were indeed the Marked Girl.” The priest lifted his hands toward the Sacred Rock in reverence. “You came to Sacred Sun City and spoke with the rock. You asked it the true question of your heart. It responded to you and gave us the rain. Marked Girl, you are the one we have sought, right and true. The jaguar marked you so there would be no mistake. If you so choose, you will study with me and become a shaman priestess, a mighty shaman priestess.” The Villac Uma smiled down at me as a father would a child. “Do you accept the fate the spirits have handed you, Marked Girl?”

I was too overwhelmed to speak. The tears returned as I nodded a disbelieving yes. The nod became more vigorous, chin to chest and then to the sky. I wanted no confusion in my answer. Yes! Yes! Yes!

The powerful priest smiled in true joy. “The feast tonight is in honor of Inti, but it will also be in honor of you. Try to rest now. We will celebrate all night, and you will begin your training and duties with me at dawn. You will swallow the sacred drink and journey to Beyond to assist me in the ceremony.”

The Villac Uma left me then. I dropped to my knees the moment he was gone from sight, unable to hold my own weight any longer. I was the Marked Girl, worthy of studying with the Villac Uma himself? It seemed an impossible thing. There must have been a mistake.

No
, the Sacred Rock whispered.
There is no mistake, Marked One. You will become a most powerful priestess
.

I crawled to its base through the mud and rain and placed my hand against its rough body once more.
You are worthy, most worthy,
it reassured me. I bowed my head, trying to accept its message with grace and gratitude. I was worthy.

23

Y
OU
might not think I could sleep upon finding out I was the Marked Girl. But I had stayed awake the night before, and speaking with the rock and then the Villac Uma had left me exhausted. True, nagging worries filled my head. What if I drank the sacred drink and didn't go to Beyond? Would Inti refuse to rise? Would the Villac Uma decide not to train me? I had sought Beyond and had failed time and again. How could I find it on command during the Inti Raymi festival? I told these worries to hush, that it was my sacred duty to be well rested and refreshed when the evening's festivities began. I walked back to the
wasi
in an exhausted trance. Sumac was nowhere to be seen. I lay upon the floor and fell into a deep sleep.

Mother Jaguar came to me in my dreams and spoke tenderly. “Come. Play with my children.” The two cubs were frolicking in the corner of the cave. I crept to them slowly, wanting to surprise them. With a fast pounce, I caught the tail of one and the hind leg of the other. They spun and nipped at me playfully. The larger of the two nudged my forehead with his own, a tender cat caress of friendship. In this way, I was finally able to play with the cubs that I had approached when I was four.

“Thank you,” I said to Mother Jaguar. “Your children are lovely.”

I awoke from this dream abruptly. Two Sun Maidens were kneeling over me, gently shaking my arms to rouse me. Their faces were so beautiful, the cloth of their dresses so fine, the scent of their perfume so delicate, I was unsure what to do or say. I jolted upward, swinging my head to cover my cheek with my hair. Too late I remembered I had cut off my long, flowing strands and couldn't shield my scar from their gaze. I would like to say that I was at peace with this shorter hair, but I felt horribly exposed and uncomfortable.

“Marked Girl,” one of them said in a hushed voice. “We have come to prepare you.”

The other Maiden smiled warmly, and I realized it was my very own sister, Chasca! We beamed at each other and embraced. To have her with me, to see her again, was a gift from the gods. I said nothing as each of them took one of my hands. I hoped Chasca and I would have the chance to be alone together, but now was not the time to talk.

The rains had stopped while I slept. The three of us walked as one to the Acllahuasi, the Sun Maidens' convent, and the air was full of the fresh, earthy smell that a strong rain leaves. The Acllahuasi was a blur of beautiful faces and fine scents and giggling voices. A group of Maidens gathered around me in a room filled with cloth and jewelry. They studied me intently, discussing how best to present me. Chasca stayed by my side the entire time.

An older Maiden stepped forward with an air of authority. “I am Ocllo.”

I nodded to her, not sure what name to offer. Finally, I said, “I am the Marked Girl.”

She accepted the name. “The hair”—she pointed to my head—“must be evened. And I think braided would be best. Let us cleanse her first.”

They led me to a fountain. I stripped off my dirty travel wrap and stepped in. The water was soothing and abundant. In a year of no rains, this was the most luxurious of baths.

One of the Maidens said, “This water flows from the direction of your home
llaqta
. It will make your skin soft and glowing.”

Hands rubbed me with pumice and scented cleansers. Oils were rubbed into my hair and skin. The Maidens used a small knife with an ornately embellished golden handle to cut and smooth my hair, and many hands began twining small strands into a series of formal hanging braids.

I could see from her demeanor that Chasca was still adjusting to her new life. This Sun Maiden world of baths and fine jewelry and formal hair weaving was foreign to her, and she was no longer the prettiest girl whose beauty demanded the attention of everyone around her. Was she happy here? And how had she felt when she heard that I was the Marked Girl? Again I hoped we would have time together without the others hovering about.

“Now the clothing,” Ocllo said. Several dresses of finely woven cloth were brought out. Some had beautiful patterns of red and yellow lines crisscrossing the fabric. Some had feathers or shells woven into the designs. “Which do you like?” she asked me.

I was to choose? They were all so lovely! Shyly, I pointed to one with red feathers woven across the chest, in honor of Sumac.

The Maidens nodded in approval and slipped it onto my body. Never had I felt material so soft. Someone secured a necklace of large red oyster shells around my neck, and a broad bracelet of silver was pushed onto my wrist. One of the Maidens draped a shimmering shawl about my shoulders and secured it with a shining golden
campu
. Someone else placed a headdress of pure white feathers atop my head. In the center, a lone golden feather, the mark of a new shaman, stood tall and bright. Soft sandals were placed in front of my feet, and I stepped into them.

“Here, attach this at your side,” Ocllo said, handing me a
koka
bag made entirely of red feathers. “The Villac Uma will give you the dried leaves that all shamans carry, and you can place them inside.”

I nodded and secured the bag at my hip.

The Maidens stepped back to look at me. I was self-conscious under their scrutiny. The clothes and scents and jewelry were lovely and special, but I was the same girl underneath all this finery. I still felt like the Ugly One. My scar was completely exposed, and it took all my will not to cover my cheek with my hand.

Ocllo came toward me. “May I?” she said with her arm extended. She was asking to touch my scar. Of course I didn't want her to, but how could I refuse?

With all the Maidens watching and my sister holding my hand protectively, Ocllo reached a tentative finger to my face and rested it on the corner of my eyebrow. Her touch was soft and curious as she followed the mark down my face to the corner of my mouth. “It looks like the Apurimac River,” she said with awe in her voice, and the others nodded their heads in agreement. “You are lucky the spirits have touched you so. Every girl here wishes she were the one to have been marked in such a sacred manner.”

This was too much to accept. I bowed my head.

“Are you ready?” Ocllo asked me.

“Yes,” I said. I was nervous, but I was also eager to begin the night's festivities. I tried not to think of what was required of me just before dawn.

24

I
N
a rush of fluttering hands and laughter, the Maidens and I went outside to the central area of the city. It was a large field near the temples in which the people could gather.

Inti had set, and dozens of fires rose up into the night sky, burning so powerfully that they lit the field almost as if it were daytime. They reminded me of the mighty fire that had bitten its keeper at the Gathering. Each of these fires had a keeper as well. The huge blazes were meant to light the way during this longest night of the year, so Inti would see the path to come back to us. They were a flaming invitation to the Sun God not to abandon his children forever.

Drums beat insistently, and wooden flutes cast their haunting spells on the many people gathering in the field. They were all dressed in their finest clothing and jewelry, strutting about and feeling joyful on this celebratory night. Aromas of freshly cooked food wafted about, intermingling with the scent of the sweet woods burning in the fires.

In a year of such drought, taking a bath as I had done was a luxury, but it was nothing compared with the feast that evening. There were foods I had never seen or smelled or tasted—a strange creature called a shrimp and some sort of rare fish. Platters of duck and partridge, rabbit and bird eggs, and seasoned venison passed by in dizzying numbers. Kidney beans, peanuts, green and red chili peppers, sorrel, cress, and quinoa, yucca and cucumbers, and of course potatoes and corn were piled, steaming, into the people's bowls. There was honey, fat, and vinegar to spice each dish. Sweet plums and bananas and rough-skinned cherimoyas spilled over the edges of rush mats, ready for the taking. Not a single morsel would be dropped to the ground or go wasted, for it was said that if the food were able, it would weep tears at being misused in any manner.

The people did not misuse the food. Such a grand feast was appreciated by all as they sat in groups about the fires, scooping large helpings and licking their fingers. Aca flowed in abundance, adding more laughter and happiness.

I thought of the meager Inti Raymi meal the people back home would be scrambling to put together. They would smile and pretend that all was fine, but it would be no feast. How lovely it would be if Mama and Papa and Hatun could be here with us. I wished all the Incan people could rejoice on this sacred night with such a bountiful celebration.

Chasca and I walked with the Sun Maidens. They were excitedly pointing here and there, calling out to one another to try this, sample that, look at this unusual color, see how that one steams in its dish just so. I chose some familiar foods and a few new items, but I was too nervous to eat much. The people kept glancing at me from the side, trying to view the Marked Girl who had brought them the rains. Many smiled at me if they managed to catch my eye. It was an odd sensation, to receive so much attention, to be so admired, after a lifetime of rejection and scorn.

Chasca took my hand and we moved away from the others. We sat alone to eat and talk, to be sisters together.

“You look beautiful!” she gushed as she settled herself next to me on a rush mat. “How do you feel?”

“Wonderful,” I replied, but something in my tone caused my sister to pause and study me intently.

“What's troubling you?” she asked in concern.

“Nothing. What could possibly be wrong?” I replied in what I thought was an innocent voice.

Chasca laughed. “Don't try to fool me, Micay. I was there when you were born!”

I tried to smile at my older sister, but my face faltered. “Chasca, this all seems so impossible. What if everyone is wrong? What if I'm not the Marked Girl? What if I can't travel to Beyond at the ceremony? What if I fail the people? What if all I have ever truly been and ever will be is the Ugly One?”

“They chose right and true,” Chasca replied in a fierce tone. “Do you think the Villac Uma could make such a mistake?”

I had reassured myself with the very same thought.

“And,” Chasca added, “the rains came when you asked for them, didn't they? I have always known that your path was special. Sacred. I've told you this before. You didn't believe me, but I knew.”