Daughter of Three Suns
Chapter 6
Life continued. Each wake time was filled with harvesting the bounty of our plants and fish. I was given a sharpened stone knife and taught how to gut and clean the fish, how to remove their tough skin, and how to slice the tender meat into thin strips. The adult women took the skins and meat to the top of our rock island and laid them in the sun to dry. The intestines were scattered on the sand dunes below, where they were eaten by animals or dried to dust and blown away by the never-ceasing winds. I learned the basherti ate the remains, too. It was messy work, and Mother made me bathe and change clothes before letting me come home each day.
It was strange being the only child in our home. Mother spent more time with me, answering my unending questions and teaching me more of our histories as well as more practical skills. The only thing she refused to answer were my questions about babies and the basherti. She hushed me when I asked about the dried herb powder they breathed at the Anamnesis ceremony. This was woman's knowledge she told me, and I was not a woman yet.
We were eating last-meal when I asked about my grandmother.
"Mother?"
"Yes." She was feeding Charles little bits of fresh fish and not really paying attention to me.
"There is something that is troubling me. Something I don't understand."
She set the half-empty bowl in front of her basherter, then turned to me. "What is it, Bella?"
"Rosalie's daughter, Emma, is your granddaughter. Yes?"
Mother nodded.
"Auntie Charlotte is Jessica's grandmother, and Auntie Sue is Rachel's grandmother."
"Yes. What is it that you do not understand, daughter?"
"I don't understand why I don't have a grandmother."
Mother didn't answer me immediately. I saw much sadness wash over her face and for a moment I wished I hadn't spoken. Then she smiled at me. "I shouldn't be surprised at your question. You've always been a curious child. My mother, your grandmother, was named Marie. She waited until you were born and then she sought the sands."
"Why?"
Mother patted the floor beside her. I scooted closer and leaned against her. "Your grandmother had much sorrow in her life," she began. "Her basherter was sickly. It had sustained a great injury before she rescued it and it never fully recovered." Mother's hand rubbed absentmindedly up and down my back. It felt comforting and I snuggled closer. "Then her second daughter, my other sister, was lost during her Metanora."
"What?" I drew away surprised. "She didn't come back?"
"No. My oldest sister, your Auntie Charlotte, took her out into the desert. She stayed long enough to know that the change was beginning, then returned to our home. But Esme was never seen again."
"Esme? Was that her name?"
Mother nodded. "She was a good sister. I missed her very much." She reached over to stroke Charles' head, humming softly to herself. I waited quietly until she was ready to speak again. "Your grandmother seemed to lose her joy then. Although she tried to be a good mother to me, I could tell she only stayed because of her duty."
"Her duty?"
"Yes, she was a third daughter, just as I am and just as you are. It is our duty to stay to see our third daughter's, third daughter born. After that, we may seek the sands if we so chose."
"Is that only for third daughters and not first or second daughters?"
Again, she waited to answer my question. Instead, she took both my hands in hers. She ran one finger over my old scar, then looked closely at the new burn that was still healing. "We should put more salve on this one."
"Mother?"
"Yes," she finally answered. "The duty is only for third daughters."
"Why?"
My mother gave a great sigh, then chuckled lightly. "You will not let this go, will you?" When I shook my head, she continued. "There is a prophecy from long ago that says a third daughter will come who will restore balance to our world. We stay to protect our third daughters."
"I don't understand. What—"
"Enough, Bella. We will not speak of this again."
She began to pull away but I grabbed her hands. "You promised me you would not seek the sands before my third daughter's third daughter. But will you stay longer?"
"Yes, daughter mine," she replied with a soft smile. One hand reached up to cup my cheek. "I will stay a very long time."
"I have one more question."
Mother laughed. "Why am I not surprised. What is it, dear child?"
"Auntie Charlotte is my aunt because she is your sister. I am Emma's aunt because Rosalie is my sister. But we call all the women aunties. Why is that?"
"Auntie is a word of honor, so we call all those who are older than we are 'Auntie' to honor them. Girls who are your age or younger are called cousins. Actually, if we traced our lineage, we are all related in one way or another. The words 'auntie' and 'cousin' remind us that we are one family, and we should care for each other as family."
I nodded and we returned to our meal. Her words settled deep within me, and I would often think of them as I grew older.
Charles started spending more time with me, too. Sometimes it would perch on my shoulder, accepting tidbits from my fingers. It would follow me to work, watching carefully as I climbed the appa vines or picked rubus berries. But it was when I used my knife that it would hover protectively, screeching and scolding when I cut myself––which I did quite often.
I missed Alice. My bed was empty and felt strange with no sister beside me. I found it difficult to sleep and often woke to find myself searching for her comforting presence. Then, I would lie awake wondering what she was doing and if she were happy. Sometimes in the quiet stillness, I thought I could hear my mother's voice in her room, but I could never determine what or to whom she was speaking.
Rosalie's belly grew, and I was excited to have another niece. Some of the other women were with child but not as many as before. Now that I understood each woman had three babies and the babies came after each Anamnesis, I started noticing how many women should have had babies growing inside them but didn't.
There was an unspoken tension in our community. I could feel it in the air, see it in the worried faces of the women. The lack of new babies was troubling, but more disturbing was the disappearance of the four girls who had gone to their Metanora with Alice. None of them had returned.
We waited and waited. The basherti took to the skies. They were gone a long time. They returned, weak and hungry, but found no signs of the missing girls. The women organized groups to search for them. Some returned with scraps of clothing or an abandoned weapon or tool, but no other traces of the girls were found. A heavy sorrow settled upon us. Like the stifling heat of Daughter Sun, it sucked all joy and happiness from our faces.
When the heat once again became unbearable, we abandoned our cave homes and moved deeper underground. The darkness and the cold-water pools did little to lift our spirits. There was no singing, no storytelling, no splashing or play. We worked, ate, and slept.
Only two things brought a smile to my face. Rosalie had her baby girl. Mother caught her new granddaughter, and I was allowed to help clean the baby. Rosalie named her Elise. Emmett stood in one corner with Emma, singing and trilling its excitement while keeping one wing around Emma, who refused to be still.
As excited as I was to become an auntie again, I was even happier to see Alice. I knew the heat and light from Daughter Sun was dangerous to the seers, and I understood why she had to stay hidden away for so long, but it was hard to accept her absence. When we moved underground, I finally had a chance to see my sister again.
We both had duties to complete during each waking cycle, but after our work was done, we were free to enjoy our time together. Alice took me to her room. I followed her down dark twisting rock stairs as we descended deeper and deeper underground. Alice had no trouble finding her way, but I stumbled and tripped my way behind her. When we reached her room, she laughingly lit a twisted knot of reeds and apologized for forgetting I couldn't see in the dark.
The room was much like a woman's room: a bed, piled with blankets and pillows, and carved wall niches holding storage baskets for extra clothing. Her walking staff and knife hung on wall pegs. I wondered why she still kept them but did not ask. There was no baby sling hanging from the ceiling and no perch for a basherter. It seemed strange she should have no one to share it with, but she assured me she was not lonely and enjoyed the solitude it provided.
We sat on her bed, talking of our mother and sister, our aunties and nieces. Alice asked me all kinds of questions: about Emma and Elise, about Mother and Charles, about what I did each wake time. At one point, she reached out and traced the tough brown skin of my old burn. "Does it hurt?" she asked.
"No, but the other one still does," I replied.
"What?" She frowned at me before grabbing my other arm. Her fingers followed the line of puckered skin and lingering scabs. "When did you do this, Bella?"
"After you came back."
"Why?"
"Because …" I began, then stopped. How could I explain to Alice that I was angry at the Grandmother Spirit she served? How could I justify my indignation that she had taken my sister from me?
"Because you were angry," Alice finished for me.
"Yes," I finally conceded. "You were taken away, separated from us with no basherter and no possibility for children. How is that right, Alice? How can she ask that of us, of you?" My voice shook with my anger, but Alice only smiled, shushing me like the small child I sounded like.
"Bella, Bella. Grandmother Spirit gives me so much more. To see what she shows me, to be one with her, is worth the sacrifice she asks. Besides—" she smiled again—"I still have Mother, Rosalie and her daughters, and you. One day, I'll have your daughters, too."
Alice was still holding both my arms, her fingers slowly rubbing the raised skin of my scars, a strange look upon her face. "Thrice times thrice times thrice born," I heard her mumble to herself. "And thrice burned."
"What do you mean, Alice?"
But she only shook her head. "Nothing. Just an old saying, an old story. It means nothing."
The chime for sleep time rang out before I could question her further. I rose to leave, but Alice grabbed my hand. "Stay with me, sister mine," she whispered. "Stay." I crawled into her bed and slept with my sister once again.
It was at first meal that something happened. Something so horrible, so terrible, that it would eventually change everything I thought I knew. Alice was sitting beside me when she began to shake.
"Alice?" I turned to her just in time to see her white eyes roll back in her head. In their place was a deep hollow blackness from which an intelligence seemed to stare back at me. She stood and turned to face a room, gone completely still and silent.
Her gaze swept the room before settling on Auntie Carmen. "A lost daughter returns," she said. "Go quickly." She blinked once, her eyes returning to their usual whiteness, then sat and resumed eating as though nothing had happened.
All the adult women began rushing from the room. When I rose to follow, Mother told me to stay. "This is not for you, Bella. Stay here and take care of Emma and Elise." Then she, too, hurried up the stairs.
"Go," Alice commanded as soon as they left.
"But you heard Mother. She told me to stay."
"It is important that you see, Bella. You must see and remember. They will take her to the healer. If you hurry, you can get there before they arrive. Hide yourself inside the nearest doorway, but make sure you can watch everything." I handed Elise to her and fled up the stairs.
The healer's home was at the very end of the oval that shaped our rock island. It was opposite the entrance where the women were headed, so when I reached the first level I turned right, running as quickly and as quietly as I could. I ducked into the nearest home, pulling the curtain so I was hidden behind it. I could hear them coming.
Rosalie and Auntie Carmen were carrying Irina. The other women were grouped around them, each trying to help. For a moment, I wished I had stayed with Alice. The sight before me was so unknown to me, so shocking to my inner self, that I had to bite my fist to keep from crying out. For a brief moment, I thought Rosalie might have heard me because she glanced directly at my hiding place, then turned away.
I'd seen injured people before. We always had our share of bruises and cuts, and once, a girl had fallen and broken her leg, but I'd never seen anyone so battered and bruised as Irina. Her body was a mottled mass of color. From the deep, dark purple of fresh injuries to the fading greens and yellows of older hurts. Even her face had not been spared as one of her eyes was so swollen she couldn't see from it. She was very thin; her bones and ribs were easy to see beneath the damaged skin that covered them.
She wore no clothes to speak of, only thin rags tied around her. The longest was looped over one shoulder and under the opposite arm, creating a type of sling she clutched tightly with one hand. As she passed by me, the fabric shifted, and I could see her basherter wrapped inside. Its head was drooped forward, eyes closed, and beak gaping slightly. I wondered if it still lived.
The worst of Irina's wounds were around her wrists and ankles. Something had worn the skin away, leaving raw abrasions that still wept blood. There was a sharp clanking sound, and I looked down to see a strange wrapping around one ankle. It looked hard and heavy but was not made of stone. This must have been what had caused her wounds.
I recalled Alice's instructions to see and to remember, so I continued to observe everything until they passed me and entered the healer's home. I knew I would have no problems remembering what I had just seen.
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AN: Thank you for reading and reviewing. Your thoughts and ideas about this story bring a smile to my face. Thank you to Sally for correcting my mistakes.
The TwiFic Fandom Awards were announced yesterday and I was honored to be nominated in several categories. The Protector and The Bookstore are also nominated. Thank you to the person or persons who submitted my name and stories. When I started writing five years ago, I never thought my name would be on any voting lists. I'm beyond gratified that people still read and enjoy The Protector. The very talented Ipsita, who makes my beautiful banners, was also nominated in the Da Vinci category, and Sally, (Alice's White Rabbit) beta extraordinaire, is nominated in the Grammar Guru division. I hope you will consider supporting them.
Thanks again for everything. Next chapter on Wednesday.
