I did not know that she had also found time to make the doll of a house for Manal, a warm house for winter, a cool house for summer, a sound house to last the life of a man.
“It is marvelous,” I said, touching the tiny seedlings that lined the window of the potting shed.
“Thank you, Dollmage,” Annakey said. She was glowing with joy to be free finally to do dollwork.
I looked at her long, then. Could it be that she was winning my heart? How different they were: my Renoa, who tamed deer and fed hawks from her hand and knew the mountain as well as the valley; and Annakey, who loved hearth and home and all the art of it.
The miniatures she made worked their magic on me, and I said, “Annakey, you have done enough today.You may go to the dance.”
Annakey smiled. “Thank you, Dollmage.” She went to the cupboard and took out of it a lovely little cake, decorated with icing flowers. “I made this for Renoa, so that we might be friends. I will give it to her at the dance.”
“Why do you do this? Renoa struck you,” I said.
“If I were to make the village story, it would be with all of us at peace together,” she said firmly.
I was too concerned about the robber people and too enchanted by potting shed bees to be overly annoyed that the frowning doll I had made for her was not working still. I listened at my window to the music and the laughter.
The dance was a ploy. Our people are born into the promise that we will not kill, unless it is to defend our children. Since the robber people had not taken a child, we could not defend ourselves from them in that way. Still, we were not born into a promise to be afraid. Fieldmaster Sodder had declared that there would be a dance that night so that the robber people would see that we were not afraid.
Even though we were.
The common fire lighted the village and the music filled the valley as Annakey approached the dancers. The ones who had loved her as boys now loved her as men. Miller touched her arm and spoke to her, smiling. Tawm Herson twirled her gently and asked her to dance. Miller watched her with resigned eyes as she made her way over to Renoa. He knew she would never love him.
Is it not so, Miller? Is that why, in spite of your love, you have a stone in your hand? If you cannot have her, you would that no one has her. In thinking this way, you have broken every promise you were born into. Put down your stone.You, at least, will take no part in Annakey’s execution if I am unable to persuade the rest.
Annakey gave Renoa the cake she had made for her, smiling and saying something kind.
Renoa did not smile, and because she did not, neither did her friends. Renoa’s story maker was so powerful that others submitted to it and allowed themselves to be mere characters in her world. Once they were in her story, it was difficult to escape, for if they did they might disappear.
Of course Manal was there at the dance, waiting for Annakey. He saw her take the cake to Renoa and offer it to her. Annakey’s hair was disheveled from her work, but it framed her face even more beautifully. Her frock was thin from wear and a little too short, but that only allowed him to imagine more fully the narrow hips beneath.
Now, you must understand. To be loved by Manal was not a small thing. He had a self-promise of which he was deeply aware and which he honored above all other promises. Manal had promised himself that he would have a great love. This self-promise was Manal’s only flaw in an otherwise perfect man, a man of spare promises. The promise to love is the biggest and most generous and most terrifying promise of all, and we all know what trouble it can cause.
And so, when Manal fell in love with Annakey, it was like an earthquake. Though it appeared as only a quiver on his lips, a momentary rocking on his feet, it changed everything. Like an earthquake, it made waterfalls where none before had been, hills to rise and valleys to fall. Poor Manal.You see why he cannot help that he must try to stop as many of you as he can if you stone his Annakey. You see why he must die trying to defend her. That night, however, he wanted only to spend his life with her.
“I knew Dollmage would let you come,” Manal said. “She is not evil, only afraid.” He said it, not I.
Annakey shook her head and laughed. “I cannot recall ever seeing Dollmage afraid of anything.”
Manal laughed. “Nor I, but one. She is afraid of your frowning promise doll.”
“Everyone is afraid of it,” Annakey said. “Even my mother was.”
“I am not.”
“Not?”
“I understand what it means.”
“Теll me.”
Manal shook his head and smiled. “I will. For a kiss.”
Annakey said nothing for a long time. She looked thoughtful. Finally, she said, “My mother taught me that a kiss was a kind of promise, and that great care must be taken with such promises. So ... no.”
Manal laughed, and then he stopped laughing, for everything she said and did made him love her more.
“I made you a house,” Annakey said.
“I will come and see it tomorrow.”
“Do you remember this dance?” she said, taking his hand and laughing. “The Lady-Under? We learned it as children.”
“My head forgets, but perhaps my feet will remember.” They joined into the dance. Their bodies understood each other. I could see that, as they danced the jigs and reels. Star, square, circle, promenade: They moved in rhythm to the music and to each other. They danced as if they had been dancing every day of their lives.
I have told you that Manal was the best boy in the village, and so of course who should set her sights upon him other than my Renoa. She loved the way he knew the forest paths as well as she, and respected him for his understanding of the wild beasts. She flirted with Manal, and he had responded to her in the pure delight a man takes in any woman. Since he had fallen in love with Annakey, however, he had been distant with Renoa. She did not know why. She only knew it made her desire him more. Now, when Renoa saw Annakey and Manal together at the dance, she saw that while she herself was any woman, Annakey was the woman.
That night, Manal and Annakey danced together every dance. They laughed and talked at the surface of things and at the bottom of things. Though Manal had been Annakey’s special friend since childhood, Annakey of late had begun to look at him with the yearning eyes of one who looks upon her treasure. As she danced, she touched his shoulders and arms as one who outlines her world with her hands.
I told you that Renoa had her eye upon Manal. Now I will tell you that Areth had his eye upon Annakey. He did not love her, as Manal did, because of the art of her hands, or, as Manal did, because she always smiled even with a frowning promise doll. He did not love her, as Manal did, because of the way she breathed and moved and dreamed. Areth loved her because she was beautiful, but more than that Areth loved her because Manal loved her. Also, because he thought she was easy to boss.
My Renoa was not entirely spoiled. When she saw that Manal wanted Annakey, she turned her attentions to Areth. When she saw that Areth wanted Annakey too, she became filled with hate. How can I blame her? Annakey was stealing everything that made Renoa smile. Renoa told herself that Annakey was draining the smiles from her promise doll as she had with her own mother.
Why is it that everything that was bad in her life made Renoa miserable, whereas when bad things happened to Annakey, she remained happy? Annakey had promised herself she would be happy. What had Renoa promised herself? That she would have what she wanted. There is the difference. Of course, that may be the moral of the story, but I will not punish you by explaining it.The bad egg and the gristly stew and the woody potatoes all together do not add up to such abuse. As I told you, I am selfish and weak, not evil.