The next day I told her what God had told me about her. I thought to punish her for humiliating me, and almost I thought it had worked. She nodded and said, “Yes, Dollmage. You are right.”
How was I to know that she would learn from my rebuke? It is so rare. I did not anticipate.
“The story! The story!” the children complain.The children speak, but even the adults tire of my wisdom and wish me only to get on with the story. You are helpless before it. Poor. Poor. I weep for you, for soon we come to the part of the story that will drag down your heart.
Men were set to watch the village at night, and in the day they searched for the robber people in the lower parts of the mountain. So it was that Manal Masterhunter found the remains of Oda’s sheep Follownot. He found her bones and the ribbon she had been wearing, all beside a fire built and left by the robber people. Follownot had been cooked.
Soon after I heard the news, I found Renoa hiding in her mother’s root shed.
“Come, Dollmage Renoa,” I said. “You threw the sheep into the fire and now it is cooked. Your naming ceremony will be at the next full moon. Prepare yourself.”
Chapter 8
Inscription on the War dolclass="underline"
Thabana Firstpeople had a son who nursed hard upon her, making her nipples bleed.
“What is blood ” she said, “so long as my child has milk?”
I see you tire of this never knowing.
Try to think of me for a change.
You, Greppa Lowmeadow, chafe at the length of my story. Your execution feast is eaten. Give us those baked eggs then.
Renoa worked hard the next day. When I wanted to rest, she said, “No, Dollmage, teach me more.Teach me everything.” Her hands were strong and wise. I announced Renoa’s naming day. The people relaxed a little, confident that the new, young Dollmage would find a way to rid us of the robber people.
That night, three sheep were stolen. Also two saws, a trowel, a ladder, five pitchforks, and a pig.
I took Renoa to the back room where the village doll lay under the sky blanket.
“Why is the sky blanket no longer protecting us?” I asked her.
“You ask me?” Renoa sneered.
I gripped the edge of the table and leaned over it.
“Hide us,” I said.
Fear stopped up Renoa’s mouth as she realized she had not the power to save herself. How could she have known that the story of the village was being made in another place, in broad daylight, and by other hands?
You villagers, in your anxiety and distress, could hardly eat that day, never mind attend to your labors. I do not criticize. It was understandable. A crowd of you came to my door.
“Why do you not protect us, Dollmage?” the fieldmaster asked. There were supportive murmurs throughout the crowd. “The robber people make our lives hard, and one day it will be impossible to stay in our valley. What are you doing about it? Will you let our crops be carried off? Soon it will be women and children.”
“How dare you question me!” I retorted. Bil Brokehoe cowered a little before me, which made me benevolent.
“Forgive us, Dollmage Hobblefoot,” said Norda Bantercross. “We are afraid.”
Everyone fell silent, then. To speak it aloud made it more real. I punished you with your fear for a time, and refused to comfort you. Then, I said, “Renoa will be named the new Dollmage at the next full moon.”
In your fear of the robber people, you had forgotten your uneasiness with Annakey. Furthermore, Manal, who everyone respected, had been talking.
“Dollmage,” said Norda, “we have talked among ourselves and discussed this over the common fire. Annakey has shown her gift, and so has Renoa. Who should be Dollmage? The one who made the sheep that was cooked? Or the one who threw it in the fire? The one who made the cow who was drowned, or the one who threw it in the water? The one who made the sky blanket that hid the village doll, or the one who put it over the village doll?”
In my rage I could not speak. Norda cleared her throat.
“Could it be that God knew in advance of our trouble, that he knew it would be trouble enough for two?”
“Two is divisive,” I said. “There can only be one in a village. The law is clear.”
Annakey spoke from the edge of the crowd. “Do not fear,” she said gently. Her voice was soft, but everyone heard. “We will save you from the robber people. I promise.”
Making such a promise was as absurd as promising her mother that she would be happy. Now Annakey had made two promises in her life.That is two too many. But the people were calmed by her words, as if there were a power in them.
“She can make no such promise,” I said.
“She is not the Dollmage,” Renoa said.
Renoa and I were not willing to stake our reputations and what we took as our good graces with God by risking such a rash promise.
“So, if Renoa is the Dollmage, then we are doomed?” someone called. There came murmurs, then a woman began to freely weep, and her baby to wail. Another woman fainted.
Renoa said sharply, “I will do what I can to protect you, of course, but we are in God’s hands.”
“A contest,” someone said, and I saw that it was Manal.
“A contest, a contest,” took up the crowd.
I saw that they would not settle. “I will do as you say,” I said above the clamor. When they had quieted somewhat, I said, “There will be a contest to which all of you may be witness. Whoever of the two girls can make the best doll, a doll with power in itself, that girl you must support unquestioningly as the new Dollmage. The other will have to swear and promise before the entire village that she will not use her powers again forever, or be banished alone to the mountains. It will be decided at the full moon.”
At this the crowd began to disperse. When they were all gone, Renoa stood before Annakey and slapped her face. Annakey did not back away.
“You had no right,” Renoa said fiercely to her. “How could you promise to save them? Only the Dollmage can save them, and that is me.”
I said, “You have brought embarrassment upon yourself, Annakey”
“I have obeyed your counsel, Dollmage,” she said. “I will no longer be afraid of what is in me. The story of the village will have a happy ending. I have decided.”
I watched her in silence as the welts rose on her cheek. I took a secret comfort in the promise she had made to save the village. I did not hear her practically confess that she had stolen the story of the village from my hands.
“Go away from me,” I said.
She did not move. “I must learn what I can from you.”
I took a deep breath. “Well,” I said, “now there must be a contest. Renoa, you may begin now to make your contest doll. Annakey, for your presumption, I have work for you to do. It will keep you too busy to attend the village dance tonight.”
Ribb Wifebury had wanted to build a potting shed in his garden. I made it, and placed it in the village doll, in the center of the Wifebury garden, beside the sundial in the middle of the long daisies. I set Annakey to cleaning up the mess I had made in my creation, and to add Ribbs muddy boots beside the chopping block. I went about my business. When I returned in the evening, she had cleaned up the mess, as well as dug up a bucket of rutabagas for breakfast. I hid my pleasure and surprise, until I saw what she had done with the potting shed.
Besides the boots, she had made for the potting shed doll a miniature coil of rope, a broom, an ax, a workbench, and a bag of seeds. There were tiny seedlings on the workbench, and for the garden, most marvelous of all, bees. Almost invisible they were. Tiny bees in the garden—they would make the Wifebury garden the most luscious in the valley. How had she learned to do such beautiful work?