Daughter of Three Suns
Chapter 8
Rosalie kept her promise to make sure I was properly trained. Every wake cycle after first meal, she appeared at our home's entrance leaving Elise and Emma in Mother's care while we went to the sands to practice. Our game of push and shove evolved into a contest of attack and defend. She taught me how to block, to strike, to thrust, to spin. She would yell at me, telling me it was important for me to try harder, to hit her harder, but I could not. It all seemed like a fun, although sometimes painful, way to spend a few hours with my sister. I knew she was losing her patience with me. I knew she thought I didn't take her lessons seriously enough. It was difficult though, to strike, to hit, to thrust with the intent to harm. I couldn't do it.
After one of our training sessions, we returned home for mid-meal. She left in a huff, taking Elise and Emma with her, refusing to look at me or tell me when she would return. I sat on a floor pillow, sad and confused. Mother entered with our food, handing me a bowl before settling on a cushion beside me. I played with my food, taking only a bite or two before pushing it away.
"What is troubling you, daughter?" Mother asked.
"Rosalie is upset with me."
"And why is that?"
"Because …" I thought of all that was being expected of me: the training, the journey to an evil place, the pressure to be hurtful. With a weary sigh, I turned to face her. "I cannot do this, Mother. It is too much. You expect too much. It is not within me to be cruel and cause harm."
She studied my face and then smiled. "I am proud of you, Bella. It is our way not to hurt, and that's a good thing. Yet, sometimes, we must protect ourselves and those we love by being cruel."
I shook my head, turning away in defeat.
"Bella. Do you love Charles?"
"Yes." I smiled at the beautiful basherter perched on a pillow next to mother.
"What would you do," she asked, "if someone were to do this?" Mother's hand reached out and circled its thin neck. "And what would you do if someone were to begin squeezing, like this?" The muscles in her hand contracted. Charles let out a squawk, its eyes began to bulge, and it flapped its wings helplessly.
"Mother! What are you doing? Stop!" I yelled.
"And what if someone were to pick it up and hurl it against the wall?" She raised her hand, and Charles hung there helplessly, squawking and shrieking in pain.
I began yelling, screaming at her to stop, but she only ignored me as she drew her arm back, preparing to throw her basherter. My training took over. I used one elbow to jab at her neck while bringing the edge of my hand down on her wrist. She dropped Charles immediately. It landed on the pillow, smoothed its ruffled feathers, then settled with a chirp.
I stared at it, realizing it was unhurt, before turning angrily to my mother. "Why would you do such a thing? You were going to hurt it!"
"You said you couldn't cause harm, Bella," Mother said, rubbing her wrist where I'd hit her. "And yet you did. Why?"
"Because, because––" I sputtered.
"Because you thought something you loved was going to be hurt," she finished for me. "You protected it, and that was the right thing to do. That is what Rosalie is trying to teach you. Your basherter, the captured women, even your own self, these are things worth protecting. Even if it means causing great harm."
Mother picked up my abandoned meal and handed it to me. "Eat, my daughter. You need your strength." She held her arms out to Charles. It hopped to her lap, and she hugged it to her body.
"You weren't really going to hurt Charles?"
"No." She smiled at me. "I could never hurt it."
I leaned my head against her shoulder, content to be with them.
"Mother?"
"Yes."
"Did you have to go to a bad place to find Charles?"
"Charles' world was ending. It was being pulled apart by two great suns. The sky was filled with fire and smoke and everything was dying. Grandmother Spirit sent many women there so they could save the basherti."
I stared at Charles. Our faces were on the same level, both of us leaning against Mother while she absent-mindedly hummed. Its glowing eyes regarded me, and I wondered what it could be thinking.
"Mother?"
"Yes."
"How will I know which basherter is mine?"
"Oh, you will know," she assured me. "As soon as you see it, your souls will recognize each other. It will be like you have finally found a long-lost missing piece of yourself. It helps, too, that you can hear its thoughts."
I pulled away and stared at her in astonishment. "You can hear what Charles is thinking?"
"Yes." She chuckled. "Right now, it's thinking how very proud it is of our daughter and that she looks very tired."
I wanted to ask her more, but Charles was right, I was very tired. I laid my head in her lap and was soon asleep.
…..
The next time Rosalie came for me, she was carrying two packs. "We'll be gone for several cycles, so I packed supplies for us. Put this on," she said before helping me arrange it over one shoulder and under the opposite arm. She gathered up the second pack, then handed me my staff. Changes had been made to it. The knob at one end had been enlarged with a fist-sized stone. It was wrapped in layers of hardened fish skins and thumped loudly when I hit it against the rock floor. It was also much heavier.
The other end had also been altered. A sharp blade, like that of a knife, had been attached to the tip. I cringed when I saw it, but remembering Mother's lesson, I took my staff and followed my sister out into the dunes.
"Where is Emmett?" I asked when I realized we were alone.
"With the girls," Rosalie answered. "We thought it would be easier on them if it stayed. They aren't happy that I'm leaving again."
"Sorry," I whispered, feeling that this was somehow my fault.
"No," she said. "What we are doing is important, Bella. What you are going to do is important, and helping you get ready for your journey is important. Emma and Elise will be fine with our mother."
We walked for a long time.
In the distance, I could see rocks rising from the sand. When we got closer, I realized it was another bare-rock island like our home, only much smaller. We reached the entrance and passed under the overhang, entering to find an almost round center. Water bubbled up in the interior pool, and I could see the sleek forms of fish swimming in its depths. Appa and rubus vines grew twinning over the inner walls. Wedrok algae and reedy fanio grew in the shallow edges. A wide walkway edged the pool, and there were dark openings of several cave homes.
"What is this place, Rosalie?"
"A place of solitude and renewal," she answered.
"Have you been here before?"
"Yes. Emmett, Emma, and I used to come when we wanted to be alone. It was easier for Emmett to be here."
I was confused by her answers but knew sometimes it was best to just listen. "Are there other places like this with other women living in them?" I finally asked.
"I've been to other islands but have never seen anyone there, although I think that perhaps in the past, people may have lived in some of them. Come," she said. "Let me show you."
We entered one of the homes. I was surprised to find blankets and baskets neatly stacked in one corner. A small table and floor cushions were nearby. "I made those and left them here for our use," Rosalie explained. She led me into the woman's sleeping room. It was much like those in our home with storage niches, a woven sling for a baby, and a basherter perch. What caught my attention, however, was what covered one whole wall of the room. Someone had taken the ink and brushes we used for our writing and made marks on the rock.
"That is not writing," I finally said.
Rosalie nodded. "In Emmett's world it's called art or pictures. People paint images of what they see around them so they have something beautiful to look at. It can be a way of remembering, too."
I stepped closer to study the pictures. Some of the images looked vaguely familiar, but others were so strange I had no words to name them. "Do you know what these are?" I pointed to some tall brown and green objects that looked like they might be plants but none I had ever seen.
"They're called trees. Some of the other worlds have them."
"Did Emmett's?"
"At one time, they had many, but most had been destroyed. I only saw a few when I was there."
There were people of all sizes in the pictures. Some I recognized as adult women and young girls. Then there were others, both large and small, whom I didn't recognize at all. Some were doing things that look familiar––harvesting food and weaving baskets. Others were engaged in activities I couldn't understand.
Basherti seemed to be everywhere. They wheeled overhead, sat perched in the plants called trees, and rode on the shoulders of the woman, girls, and the other beings I had no name for.
There were many animals, too. Once again, some that looked familiar, but many I had never seen.
"Is that …"
"A sand cat," Rosalie finished my question. "I surprised one when I was on my journey. It didn't like being disturbed." I glanced at the deep scratches on her thigh. They were almost healed but would leave scars. She nodded at my questioning look.
"They don't look that dangerous here," I murmured while we both studied the image of the cat curled in a young girl's lap.
Rosalie only shrugged. "I don't know, Bella. There are many great mysteries here. Look at this." She pointed to another part of the painting. "It looks like water, but it is not inside an island. How can this be?"
"Do you think this is an image of one of the other worlds?" I asked.
"I thought so, at first," she answered, "but then I saw this." My sister moved to the very right end of the picture. High up in one of the corners was the unmistakable red face of Grandmother Sun. Underneath was one of our bare-rock island homes. It was drawn in such a way that the interior could be seen. There were appa vines and rubus berries growing on the walls. Fish were swimming in the central pond. A woman stood at the entrance with a basherter on her shoulder.
"This looks like our world," she continued. "The rest does not. Emmett thinks it's a picture history. It begins at the other side where things are so different and ends here, with Grandmother Sun and the rock island."
"Emmett thinks? Can you hear its thoughts just like Mother said she could hear Charles' thoughts?"
"Yes, all women can hear their basherter's thoughts."
"Can it hear yours? Sometimes, you speak to it."
Rosalie stopped looking at the pictures on the wall and turned to me. "Emmett can't read my mind like I can read its mind, but we are so familiar to each other that it can sense my feelings and intentions. Remember, little sister, your basherter is your soulmate, a part of you. It is your partner and companion for as long as you both live. And then, after you've lived a long and happy life, you will seek the sands together and rest with Grandmother's spirit forever."
I thought of her words, then nodded. "That is a good thing."
My sister smiled at me, then chuckled. "Yes, it is a very good thing. Now," she continued. "This is where everything changes." She turned and pointed toward the middle of the painting. There was a large white circle near the top. Long thin lines streamed out from it. Some hit the water, the people, and the animals. After that, there were no more trees, and most of the people and animals were gone. I saw sand.
"Daughter Sun," I whispered.
Rosalie nodded.
"And Mother Sun?"
"There." She pointed toward the right. The yellow glow of Mother Sun was rising over the horizon. It bathed the sand dunes in warm light.
Silently, we examined the scene before us. My eyes roamed this thing Emmett called art. So many details, so many interesting things to examine, but I couldn't focus on just one. "Do you think our world was once like this?"
Rosalie shook her head. "I think perhaps it was, but I don't know, sister mine. I do know that we have much to do before rest time." I followed when she began walking toward the cave entrance.
"There are no chimes at the overhang. How will we know when to rise and when to sleep?" I couldn't imagine not having some way of marking Grandmother's circling.
"Like this," Rosalie answered. She picked up a tall pole that was leaning next to the doorway. It had a long piece of cloth attached to the top. I followed her to the island's entrance and watched as she stood it in the sand. "Where is Grandmother Sun?" she asked me.
The cloth was fluttering in the wind and pointing to the left of the pole. "There," I said, pointing to the right.
"And how do you know?"
"Because the wind always blows from Grandmother Sun. That's why we call it her breath."
My sister grinned at me. "And how will we know when it is time for first meal?"
"When we see her face there." I pointed straight ahead of us. "And the cloth is pointing toward the entrance of the island. The opposite will be true when it's time to sleep." I grinned back at my sister.
"Yes." She laughed. "Now, we still have some work to do before we rest."
"Are we going to practice with the staff again?"
"Soon, but not right now. Instead you are going to start making more knives and a chest sheath to carry them."
"That sounds like a lot of work."
Rosalie started to scold, a frown on her face, but then she saw my teasing smile and laughed. "I guess it is a good thing there is someone here who will help us."
We reentered the island to find someone waiting for us beside the pool. She turned, and I gasped. It was Irina.
.
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AN: Thanks again for reading and reviewing. Your thoughts and ideas make my day. Several readers have asked questions about Bella's age. She's still very much a child, which is one of the reasons she hasn't been told a lot of things. When I was plotting out this story, I imagined the Anamnesis ceremonies as being approximately five to six years apart. Daughter Sun appears and stays in the sky around two years, then Mother Sun comes back for another three or four. The cycle repeats. This means the girls are between 15-18 years old when they go through the change to become women and go on their journey. In this chapter, Bella is around 13-14. However, she is not approaching puberty. That happens all at once when they go through the Metanora. More about this in the coming chapters.
Many thanks to the wonderful Sally for her beta skills and for loving this story.
