The Ugly One Read online

  With sure motions, the Villac Uma removed the heart of the black llama and held it up for all to see. Here was the first bad omen. The heart stopped beating immediately, a clear sign that the path would continue to be difficult.

  The Paqo held up a silver goblet that shone in the clear light of the moon. He poured some aca into the goblet and handed it to the Villac Uma. The two men concentrated on the heart of the llama, and all the gathered shamans also studied the heart intently, speaking to it in praise and trying to listen to its message. The Villac Uma squeezed the heart over the goblet, and the blood dripped into the silver container.

  I was glad now for the heat of the fire, as the night air was cold enough to show my breath. I saw the words of the shamans hang in the frigid air as they chanted the traditional prayer together. “O fountain of water which for so many years has watered the fields, through which blessings we gather our food, do the same this year. Pour down the waters, and give if it pleases even more water, so that the harvest this year may be in abundance.”

  At the completion of the prayer, the Villac Uma made ready to pour the contents of the silver goblet into a still pool of water resting within a flat oval stone. The action of the water was critical. If the blood and aca mixture fell easily into the pool and was accepted like a good rain soaking into the earth, this would be a powerful sign that rains would come and quench Earth Mother’s thirst.

  With all the shamans focused on him, the Villac Uma tipped the goblet slowly and carefully. But the liquid from within bounced on the still water like a violent rainstorm that erodes the land. This was enough to confirm that the time of the drought would continue. However, one more message was sent to us at this time.

  A sudden shout from the firekeeper drew everyone’s attention. Somehow, perhaps in his watching the Villac Uma, the keeper had stopped listening to his fire for a moment. A flame had taken hold of his cloak and set it on fire. With a screech, he dropped to the ground and began rolling in the dust. He quickly put the fire out in this manner and stood, looking bewildered by what had just happened.

  A dead heart. Violent waters. A hungry fire that tried to eat its keeper. Can you see how clearly the spirits spoke with us?

  The Villac Uma waved his hands at the gathered shamans. “It is time to go,” he said. “No rains will come. Fast for the next two moon cycles. Speak with the spirits and ask for guidance. We will appease the gods with a human sacrifice.”

  I had known the ceremony wouldn’t go well, but I didn’t know what the people would do, now that it was certain there would be no rains.

  17

  Curacas

  Inspectors

  TWO moon cycles passed. My teacher fasted throughout this time, and my lessons were fewer as he spent many of his days and nights alone speaking with the spirits. I didn’t fast, although food was scarce enough that hunger hung in my belly much of the time. The grains in our village’s storehouses were almost gone, and everyone was careful not to take too much.

  The first member of our llaqta died from the hard times. It was old Sutic. I checked on Cora often after he died. Her sadness was so heavy, it took away her voice. I sat with her for a while every day in silence and simply held her hand. Smoke from the burning muña plant filled the wasi during these quiet moments. I wasn’t sure if her headaches still came, but she seemed to like the smell, so I brought some with me every visit. Sometimes Sumac’s silly head bobs and unhappy Father sighs would bring a small smile to her lips, but that was all.

  We heard that a young Sun Maiden, only ten years old, was sacrificed. The Villac Uma selected her from among the many beautiful girls in the Acllahuasi in the capital city of Cuzco. She was sacrificed from atop a mighty mountain, the highest place a human could reach, in the hopes that her pure and beautiful spirit would speak to Inti on behalf of the people. She had come from a village not too far from our own. How I envied this chosen girl. I prayed that she spoke well to Inti, but so far no rains had come.

  Planting season would begin again in two moons’ time, and the people now turned their prayers to the next year’s harvest. At least they hadn’t tried to drive my teacher from the llaqta. He remained alone with his prayers, and they let him be. Instead, they came to me with their aches and pains and troubles. I did what I could to help, but most of them were simply starving, and I had no food for them. They looked at me with their tired, hungry eyes, and I asked the spirits to ease their suffering, to please help them. I especially didn’t like to see the young ones this way. The hunger ate away their smiles and silenced their childish laughter.

  No flowers grew from the dry and thirsty earth, but Chasca bloomed so beautifully that the people couldn’t help but stare when she walked by. She was almost sixteen and would marry in two years. My sister would have her pick of men, and she watched them all to see who pleased her the most. Then, lying in the wasi each evening, she would review her choices. “Hualpa has a nice face, but he never speaks with me. He is shyer than a deer. Cachi is not as handsome, but his eyes smile when he looks at me,” she would explain. “And Titu brought me some dried punga-punga flowers. He said he wanted to bring me fresh flowers but there are simply none to be found.”

  “Any of them would be lucky to marry you. You are very pretty,” I would whisper back, and my sister would bat her eyelashes and laugh.

  Never did we discuss what might happen to me when I came of age. What was there to say? As Ucho had pointed out so often, who would want to marry the Loathsome One? At least my sister didn’t insult me with false reassurances. It was easier for us to ignore the topic altogether.

  The time of the annual inspections arrived. The emperor sent curacas, special men to take a census of the number of births and deaths and marriages that had taken place during the year. These inspectors also collected one-third of the crops, to be dried and placed in the storehouses for difficult times. It didn’t take a mighty shaman to know that one-third of nothing was nothing. This year would be a sad time for inspections, right and true. Not that it was normally a joyful experience. When it came time to line up and answer the many questions posed by the emperor’s nosy men, the saying among the people was “Keep quiet and you will not get into trouble.”

  The cool pulse of dawn was beginning to give way to the beating heat of midmorning when the two curacas arrived, as expected. The people gathered in the center of the village. Old Sutic would have been moved officially into the category of the elderly this inspection year, excusing him from the demanding physical tasks he so loathed. Instead, Cora stood alone, barely whispering that her husband had recently died when the inspectors reached her and poked her with their questions. The two men recorded this information on the official quipu strings. Next they recorded the birth of Tica’s two children, a boy and a girl. She held them proudly as she announced their names to the curacas. Then the men continued through the people, asking questions and frowning.

  “They are having a difficult year,” Mama whispered to us. “All these villages to inspect, and no crops to collect.”

  Father shifted from foot to foot as he hissed, “Shhh! They are approaching. Do not speak. Do not look them in the eye! Avoid trouble!”

  Chasca and I glanced at each other and smiled at Father’s worry. We had nothing to hide, nothing of which to be frightened.

  “Have there been any births or deaths in this family this year?” the taller of the two asked.

  Father continued to stare at the dusty ground as he replied, “No.”

  “Your ages?”

  As Father answered, the shorter man examined us, stepping in front of each of us one by one. Sumac had taken off in flight earlier and hadn’t yet returned. It was for the best. No need to explain about the bird from the faraway yunka that lived with our family. The man’s probing eyes searched me bottom to top, and I detected disgust as he sighted my scar. Quickly, he moved in front of Chasca. She kept her chin tucked coyly downward, sending her hair into a beautiful cascade of shimmering black, but her eyes p
eeked up at him. Now the man’s sneer became a smile, and he raised his eyebrows slightly before he and his partner moved on to the next family. We were free to leave.

  “Chasca! I told you to keep your eyes down! Oh, the maggot of fire is dragging me toward the grave!” Father scolded as we made our way back to the wasi.

  “Father, I tried,” Chasca said. “Did you see the way he looked at me? It would have made trouble not to meet his gaze!”

  “There is no use in worrying,” Mama said in her calm way. “What has happened has happened.”

  After the curacas met with all the families, Yawar, our leader, led them through the village to examine the cleanliness of the homes and paths. He took them to the fields to confirm that nothing had grown. It was also Yawar’s duty to communicate to the people any important decisions the inspectors had made. I recalled when Yawar had visited our family to say that it was time for Hatun to serve the emperor by helping with the roads and bridges. Tonight we expected a similar visit to tell us Hatun had finished his term of duty and would return home soon.

  We had just finished the evening meal when we heard Yawar calling hello from outside our wasi.

  “Yawar,” Mama said. “Please, come in.” She hastily cleared the floor and put down an extra rush mat for him to sit upon.

  “I won’t stay long,” he said. “I have several other homes to visit.”

  Father and Mama nodded in understanding.

  “Hatun will return as planned. He has served the emperor well and received much praise for his skill and dedication.”

  We all smiled. Father rose slightly, as if to end the visit, but Yawar placed a hand on his shoulder. “Eager for me to be done, eh?” he said. “But there is one more message from the inspectors for your family.” He seemed aware that this announcement made us suddenly nervous, for he quickly added, “Don’t be fearful. It is good.”

  Father sat, wringing his hands. He was unable to remain quiet. “What is the news? We weren’t expecting any other changes this year! What do they want of us? How could it be good?”

  Yawar chuckled. “It is good, right and true.” He paused for dramatic effect. Uncle Turu, in the height of a good story, couldn’t have done better himself, and we all leaned in closer. “Your daughter has been chosen to be a Sun Maiden. She will be a member of the Acllahuasi, the convent of the Sun Maidens!”

  For the briefest, most foolish of moments, I thought that perhaps it was I who had been selected, but of course it was Chasca to whom Yawar now turned. “No one from our village has ever been chosen. You have honored us all.”

  Chasca had no choice in this matter. She couldn’t refuse her selection, but why would she want to? She began to jump up and down like a happy frog. Father hooted with laughter and puffed out his chest with pride. I stood and hugged my sister with genuine happiness. I was jealous, true, but this wasn’t a new emotion when it came to my feelings for my sister. Mama had tears in her eyes. She was proud of Chasca, but I could see that the tears were those of a mother who had just learned she would be saying goodbye to her elder daughter very soon.

  Yawar continued, “Of course, Chasca is too old to be selected as a sacrifice. She will be married to a nobleman when she is eighteen, or perhaps she will be assigned to tend to the mummies.”

  The bodies of the past emperors were guarded carefully and brought out on special occasions. These mummies held strong powers and required constant attention from designated Sun Maidens. I smiled. There was no question which of these two fates my sister would prefer.

  But Yawar wasn’t done. “And she is to be sent to the Acllahuasi in Sacred Sun City, not the one in Cuzco,” he added triumphantly.

  This final revelation pierced my heart more painfully than the cruelest words Ucho had ever snarled at me. The Acllahuasi in the capital city was where most of the Sun Maidens dwelled. Why was she being sent to the convent in Sacred Sun City? The gods must truly despise me to send my sister to the place I most longed to be.

  ***

  I had feared that my teacher would leave me, but it had never occurred to me that I would be saying goodbye to my sister. We had only a small amount of time left together. When the moon waned and was almost eaten by the serpent in the sky, a chasqui runner would be sent to take her to Sacred Sun City to live with the other Sun Maidens. Chasca and I spent much of this time talking and sharing secrets, knowing that this would be our last chance to be sisters. We would most likely never see each other after she left.

  The morning Chasca was to depart, we sat on my huaca eating dried potatoes. I had never shared my special place with anyone. Not even the Paqo had sat on my spirit rock with me. But it felt right and true to be there with my sister that day. “I hope I am given to a handsome nobleman,” Chasca confided. “What if I am selected instead to be a Sun Maiden who tends to the mummies?”

  “All the noblemen will want to marry you,” I said with certainty.

  “The Sun Maidens are all beautiful. Everyone knows this is so. It is not assured that I can catch an eye any more than another Maiden.”

  It was difficult to imagine an entire convent of women as lovely as Chasca, but her words were right and true. My sister’s chances of marriage were suddenly uncertain, although not as uncertain as mine.

  “What of you, Micay?” she asked, and I realized that as she was the only one who still called me Micay, when she left, my name of Beautiful Round Face truly would be a thing of the past.

  I had wondered if Chasca might bring up this topic that we had so carefully avoided for so long. My future was unknown to me. Images of my possible paths darted through my mind like moths flitting about a fire. These moth ideas were difficult to fix in my head, and the flames devoured them before I could focus on any one long enough to see it clearly. There had been one possibility that had allowed me some hope: that I might become a shaman priestess. True, the people were coming to me with their troubles, but I required much more training. I had barely seen my teacher over the past two moons, and the people were ready to drive him away from our llaqta forever. After he was gone, would anyone accept the Ugly One as a true shaman?

  I whispered, “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

  Chasca put her hand on mine. She didn’t probe further.

  Watching my sister walk along the path winding away from our village later that day, I was reminded of the yunka stranger and how the clouds had hovered about him on this same trail. Now the sky was blue and clear. Inti shone down upon Chasca in approval. I felt the powerful pull of Sacred Sun City on my own being, but it was my sister, unscarred and loved by all, who had been chosen to go there. Her future was a beautiful butterfly unfolding its delicate wings for first flight. I turned away from the sight, not understanding why it was always my place to watch others go to Sacred Sun City while I was left behind.

  18

  Yuya

  Remembering

  THE night Chasca left, the dreams began. They were strong dreams, powerful messages. I tossed and turned under the woolen blankets, and Mama told me the next day that I was muttering in my sleep, though she couldn’t understand what I was saying. Once I flung my arm so forcefully I hit Sumac and woke us both. He squawked in disapproval, saying, “No. No. No! NO!” as he moved away from me. It was fortunate that Chasca was no longer there. She would have suffered lying next to me in such a state. Night after night the spirits spoke with me, and morning after morning I lay there frustrated, unable to recall their message. The Paqo had requested that I not visit him unless I had a proper reason. Lying under my blankets one night, I realized I was frightened to fall asleep. It wasn’t that the dreams scared me, but failing the spirits yet again with my forgetfulness was unsettling. This was a reason, right and true, to see the Paqo. I would visit him the next morning. My decision calmed me, and I was able to close my eyes and sleep.

  That night’s dream was similar to the others. Perhaps you can guess where it began. I was inside the dark, cool walls of my huaca. As before, I felt excited that
I would finally meet the spirit that dwelled within. Two jaguar cubs lay dead in a heap in the corner. Mother Jaguar sat next to them, licking their small bodies as if they were still alive. Large tears ran down her face and landed on her children. As her mama tears touched their black fur, the cubs shriveled and shrank. Mother Jaguar cocked her head to the side and watched as the babies changed into a single perfect little toadstool. She lifted her face suddenly and slit her yellow eyes at me. With a low growl, she snarled one word: “Go!”

  I awoke with the sound of Mother Jaguar’s voice echoing in my head and a feeling of urgency pounding within my heart. Yet, still, I could remember nothing of the actual dream now that I was awake. Rising, I collected Sumac and headed quietly out of the wasi to go and see my teacher.

  The Paqo was thin. And weary. Sitting across from him, I experienced a new feeling: concern for my teacher. His eyes twinkled as he said, “New Voice, I’m not a dry tree branch, ready to crack in the breeze.”

  I smiled and looked down. Of course my teacher would be fine. “It’s good to see you, Paqo,” I said.

  He nodded.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you. I know you are very busy with the spirits.”

  He rose and took a pot from the hearth. As he poured two cups of hot tea he said, “I required time alone with the spirits. That time has now passed. All will be fine. The rains will come.”

  Such good news was completely unexpected. It was a rainbow arcing across a gurgling river. It was flying with Sumac high in the skies. “That’s wonderful!” I exclaimed. “When? We must tell the people!”

  Sitting down cross-legged in front of me once more, he handed me a cup of tea and took a sip from his own. “It isn’t yet time, New Voice. Don’t say a word of this to anyone.” And here he changed the subject. “The Sapa Inca and his entourage are traveling from the capital city to Sacred Sun City at Machu Picchu. I expect they will reach the roads nearby us sometime tonight or early tomorrow. The emperor intends to hold his Inti Raymi festival in Sacred Sun City this year.”