The Ugly One Read online

  Inti Raymi was the most sacred of festivals. It occurred on the longest night, the night when Inti could choose to leave the people forever. There was much feasting during Inti Raymi. It was a time to pray to the Sun God to come back, and a time to rejoice that he did.

  “Will you and I prepare for Inti Raymi here?” I asked, hoping that my teacher and I would be spending more time together now that he was finished fasting with the spirits alone.

  The hearth fire hissed and popped in the silence that fell after my question, and the Paqo’s face was filled with new lines that spoke of sadness. “I don’t think so,” he said.

  It was as I feared. My sister had left. Sumac was spending more and more time away from me every day. And now it seemed the time of studying with my teacher was through. All my moth ideas had burnt away to nothingness. I would always be the Ugly One, alone and scorned.

  “Why are you here, New Voice?”

  At the Paqo’s words, I suddenly felt as I had the first time I entered his wasi and had sat, terrified to be in the presence of such a mighty shaman. The jaguar in the weaving glared at me, as unwelcoming now as it had been back then. Had I ever truly belonged here?

  “I have had dreams,” I whispered.

  “There are three paths to the spirits and Beyond. One such path is through your dreams.”

  I had come to discuss my failure to recall my dreams, but as usual, my teacher had sent my thoughts in an entirely new direction. “You can reach Beyond through your dreams?”

  “Of course.”

  “Paqo,” I said, poised to ask a question I had pondered for some time now, “where is Beyond? Is it past the stars?”

  I thought I detected a hint of a smile in my teacher’s lips. “I wondered if you would ever ask this. Beyond is not a place. It is all places. It is all times. To visit Beyond is to be everywhere, every time, all at once. It is to be the wind, blowing here and there, a part of everything but invisible to all.”

  “Have you visited Beyond?”

  “I journey there often.”

  “Will I?”

  “Yes.”

  This simple word gave me much hope. “When?”

  “Only you can answer such a question.”

  I sighed. Of course he wouldn’t tell me. “You said dreams are one of three ways to reach Beyond. What are the other two?” I hoped that there might be an easier method. My teacher wasn’t usually so flowing with his words. Perhaps he would share a trick with me before he stopped his answers and began his questions.

  “Great shamans connect to Beyond through their power. They may use magical plants to help them, or journey unassisted.”

  I wondered if I had gone to Beyond when I flew with the Handsome One in the sky world. Perhaps the third way was an easier path to Beyond. “And the last way to visit?”

  Here my teacher paused. The hearth fire behind him spit and spat. Then he answered. “Death. In death we all become like the wind and reach Beyond.”

  This didn’t sound so simple a path to me. Perhaps my dreams were the best route to Beyond for now.

  “Tell me of your dreams,” the Paqo said, and I knew he was done telling me of how to reach Beyond.

  “There is nothing to tell. I can’t remember them.” I could hear frustration pushing my voice higher. “I fail the spirits.”

  The Paqo asked me a question that brought me again to my first visit to him, for it was one that he had posed that day. “Tell me, what do you remember of your past?”

  “Little. Why do you ask me this question?” Here was a difference. Back when we first met, I never would have been bold enough to ask this of my teacher.

  “Remembering your dreams, remembering your past, they are as one. The past is the key to the now.”

  I was about to say that I didn’t like my now. I was about to say that my past was gone from my memory, just like my dreams. I was about to say that my future appeared the worst of them all, dark and unhappy. But something in the way the jaguar in the weaving studied me through its slit yellow eyes tickled the inside of my head. I grasped at this faintest of feelings. “Jaguar eyes . . . ?”

  My teacher remained silent, waiting for more to come.

  “Jaguar eyes. There is a jaguar in my dreams. She shows me something.” I closed my own eyes and saw her clearly. She looked downward at an earthen floor. What was it she saw? “A toadstool!” The abrupt sound of my voice scattered any other dream memories I might have pulled from my mind, but I was pleased to finally recall this much. “She showed me a toadstool.”

  The Paqo nodded his head. “Do you know the significance of the toadstool?”

  To see a glowworm in one’s dreams meant a loved one would fall ill. If certain birds appeared in dreams, this showed a quarrel would occur in the home. But I didn’t know the meaning of the toadstool. I shook my head.

  “A toadstool in a dream is an important message from the spirits, New Voice. They are telling you that someone special to you will be making a sacred journey soon.”

  The Paqo had just said that the emperor was making a sacred journey to Sacred Sun City, but I had never met the emperor. No, my dreams weren’t speaking to me about the leader of the Children of the Sun. I knew of whom my dreams spoke. It was my teacher. He would be leaving me very soon. Was he leaving because of the people’s fears? Why couldn’t he tell them of the coming rains so they would be happy for him to stay? Or was he leaving because of me, because I had failed him in some way?

  We faced each other, and the sad lines of his face told me that he knew I understood and he was sorry that our time together had come to an end. Here he gave me my final lesson. “Continue to seek Beyond, New Voice. Remain open to all. True power can only be held in hands that are open. True wisdom dwells only within a heart that is open. The world speaks only to open eyes, open ears. You have been an excellent student. You are worthy, most worthy.”

  We stood as one and embraced.

  “Goodbye, New Voice.”

  “Goodbye, Paqo.” I barely choked out my last word. “Pachis.”

  ***

  That night I did something quite unexpected, I think because I was so sad. When Mama leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t turn away. Slowly, as if I were a little rabbit that could be easily startled, she touched her lips to my smooth cheek in a soft Mama kiss. Tears hung in the corners of her eyes. Would she cry and never come near me again? But no, these were tears of joy. Wiping beneath her eyes, she leaned in and kissed me again, this time on my scarred cheek.

  “Oh, Mama!” I whispered, and she hugged me to her tightly as we both cried and cried.

  I had lost my sister. I had lost my teacher. Finally, on this night, I had gained something. I knew my beautiful Mama would kiss me every night. I felt ashamed, thinking of all the pain I had caused her by turning away time and again, and angry at myself for all the kisses I had missed. Mama had been so patient with me, trying every night. Such is the power of a mother’s love. Truly, Mama rivaled Inti himself in her strength.

  ***

  That night I dreamt more vividly yet. Mother Jaguar growled at me within the huaca. “You don’t remember me!” she roared.

  “They’re all leaving me!” I screamed back at her.

  Here she paused and licked her paw with one long, deliberate stroke of her thick, pink tongue. She pointed at the toadstool growing out of the earth. “It isn’t meant for him,” she said.

  “Then whose is it?” I asked.

  As she and I watched, the fragile growth disappeared from the earth. I held my hands in front of me, and the toadstool lay in my palms like a delicate treasure.

  “Yours,” she answered. “The sacred journey is yours.”

  When I awoke, the dream was still there. I could smell the loamy scent of the toadstool on my skin, and Mother Jaguar’s voice was strong in the air. The person who was special to me, the person who was to take the sacred journey, was me, not my teacher. The Paqo had never said that he was leaving. He had said goodbye knowing it was I
who would go. I knew then what I was to do, what I had to do.

  I rose and packed my things as quietly as possible so as not to awaken my parents. The journey wouldn’t be much longer than our travels to Wiñay Wayna had been. I would need the same items. If I left immediately, I could join the emperor’s entourage and be in Sacred Sun City well in time for the Inti Raymi festival. I would speak with the Sacred Rock and ask it to remove my scar so I could return home to train with the Paqo and become a shaman, right and true, a shaman whom all the people would accept with open arms and happy hearts. If the Sacred Rock made me whole again, I could have a beautiful future like my sister. It was worth the risk, for what lay ahead for me if I didn’t go? Nothing but darkness. Deep inside, I must have known all along that I would be making this journey.

  Extra blankets, dried food for myself and Sumac, and a bowl all went into my pack. I glanced at my parents. Father snored quietly. Mama was completely still, peaceful even in her sleep. If my journey was successful, I would return to them as Beautiful Round Face, free from my hideous scar forever. If the emperor allowed me to join his journey. If I was allowed into Sacred Sun City. If I was allowed to speak to the Sacred Rock. If it found me worthy and answered my one request. In my mind, I practiced the words I would say to the Sacred Rock if I was given the chance. Will you take my scar away? Will you make me whole again?

  Done packing, I knelt by my sleeping parents. I couldn’t tell them. They would stop me. It was upsetting, imagining them awakening to find me gone. But the following sight, the one in which I returned home, beautiful and happy, made me smile. I kissed them both lightly on the cheek and whispered goodbye. Mama lay there so lovely. I hoped that somehow, in her dreams, she heard my words and understood.

  19

  Qanimpa

  The Past

  SUMAC and I found the emperor’s entourage just as they were preparing to start the day’s travels. I approached cautiously, aware that all my hopes could be ruined at this critical moment. It wasn’t uncommon for people to join a group of travelers, even one that included the emperor himself. But the ruler could send anyone away if he so chose, and my face was more than enough reason for him to reject my presence.

  There was much commotion as the people packed from the night and prepared to leave. I guessed there to be perhaps thirty in all, but the emperor was nowhere to be seen. Eight men in official patterned clothes moved about a litter, a structure with a wooden base and ceiling surrounded by beautiful hanging cloth. These men were called the feet of the emperor. They carried him in the litter, mounted on poles resting on their shoulders, so he wouldn’t tire on his travels. The footmen were large, with hardened faces that clearly spoke of their power. They not only carried the Sapa Inca, they also guarded and protected him.

  I thought that perhaps I could join the group without bringing attention to myself, but such was not to be the way. One of the eight footmen sighted me and pointed in my direction. I walked toward him and dropped to my knees at what felt to be a proper distance.

  “I wish to join you on this journey,” I said in a respectful voice.

  “The emperor makes such decisions,” he responded. “Remain where you are.”

  The footman approached the litter and spoke with his eyes averted to the ground. Not even the Sapa Inca’s guards were allowed to look upon him from such a close distance. I couldn’t hear the response from inside the litter, but I saw the footman making a jagged gesture down his right cheek and knew he was describing me. Another moment passed, and a sandaled foot emerged from the litter. Was the emperor coming to see me? I took in a breath and kept my eyes fixed on a spot on the earth. I would do nothing to insult him, nothing to jeopardize my chances of getting to the Sacred Rock.

  I heard feet approaching me on the path and then a slight chuckle. “The Learning Girl.”

  This was a voice I recognized. I looked up to see the Villac Uma.

  “Such a surprised face you show,” he said. “I am accompanying the Sapa Inca to Machu Picchu for the ceremony.”

  I glanced over at the litter.

  He answered my look. “Yes, the emperor is inside.”

  I wanted to study the litter for evidence of the emperor within. But I shook my head to clear my mind. It wasn’t the Sapa Inca who should be in my thoughts at this critical point. I remained on my knees and kissed my fingertips in reverence. “Greetings, Villac Uma.”

  “You may stand,” he said. “And you may join the journey.”

  “Pachis, Villac Uma,” I said, and I kissed my fingers again as I rose.

  “But what of your friend?” he asked.

  This question confused me, right and true. “Do you mean Sumac?” I didn’t expect the Villac Uma would forbid the bird from joining me.

  “No.” The priest gestured behind me. “The boy.”

  I looked where he pointed. A figure was making its way down the trail. At first I wasn’t certain who it was, but once I recognized him, I began shaking my head. Can you guess who huffed and puffed his way toward us? Ucho!

  “He doesn’t belong here. And he is not my friend,” I said in a quiet voice cold with fear.

  “The boy serves his purpose,” the Villac Uma said. “He joins us as well.” Having spoken, he returned to the litter and went inside. I couldn’t have argued with him even if he had remained.

  By the time Ucho reached the entourage, I had hidden myself within a cluster of people, although I was certain he knew I was there. The footmen lifted the litter, and we began walking. As I took my first steps toward the Sacred Rock, I tried to focus on the request I wanted to make of it. But new questions lodged themselves in my mind like splinters of wood stuck under the skin. Why was Ucho here, and how might he ruin my plans?

  ***

  The journey to Machu Picchu lasted several days. I spent my time with Sumac, avoiding Ucho and the other travelers as best I could. I didn’t see the emperor, and the Villac Uma rarely left the litter. Everywhere I looked, I saw evidence of drought and suffering. Other people slowly joined the group, and there were many hollow cheeks and deadened eyes. One couple leaned against each other as they walked, the woman cradling a limp child in her arms. They wept often to Pachacamac, the creator and giver of life, “Ay! Ay! Let us weep and grieve! Your poor sons are sick of heart. We can offer only our tears in exchange for your showers of rain!” I was so tired of the dust and of the struggle just to get enough to eat. I saw no signs that it would rain as the Paqo had foretold.

  It was a journey made in footsteps, in breath that sped when I climbed steep inclines, in sandals and clothes that became covered in dust, in the sweat that dripped down my forehead and neck during the midday strength of Inti’s glow, and in the bumps that rose on my skin as I shivered under my blankets during the cold nights. But there was another journey too, an unexpected trip, that took place at the same time. I traveled to my forgotten past. Here is how it happened.

  We had crossed a newly repaired hanging rope bridge and stopped for a midday meal. I had so far been able to avoid Ucho and was beginning to wonder if his presence was simply an odd coincidence, if perhaps he had his own reason for being there. But I was far from the protection of my teacher and my home, and I didn’t want to tempt Ucho’s anger by showing my face. A small group of boulders stood not too far ahead on the path. I walked toward them to eat unseen from the others.

  As I rounded one of the large rocks, I came upon a man resting on one of the boulders, the remains of his midday meal scattered about. I was startled to see someone there, but the true surprise came when I realized that it was Hatun, my brother. I don’t know which of us was more astonished.

  He stood abruptly. “Little Sister? Is that you? Are you a girl or a bird spirit?”

  I laughed. With Sumac on my shoulder, I must have looked quite odd to my brother. “I am no spirit,” I assured him, and Sumac took off in flight, as if to show he was separate from me. I felt suddenly shy without his presence to cover my cheek, and my hair fell across my
scar as if it had a mind of its own.

  “Why are you here?” Hatun asked as he came forward and embraced me.

  “I’m traveling to Sacred Sun City with the emperor’s entourage. Why are you here?”

  “I’m traveling home. I expected to see you soon, but not here, not today!”

  We settled into the shade of the boulders and talked, filling each other in on the news of the past three years. I told him that Father was as troublesome as ever, that Mama seemed more worried and would be glad to see him, and that Chasca had been chosen to be a Sun Maiden. Hatun described his time laboring on the roads and bridges, and how some of the men had been hard-working while others were lazy. I thought of old Sutic and his snoring ways during planting time. Hatun said he was glad to be going home. He looked forward to starting a family of his own. I studied his strong, handsome face and knew he would have no trouble finding a lovely wife. I was proud of my serious brother who had received praise for his skills and had earned the right to return home in honor to become a full man.

  Hatun ended our time together with words that I couldn’t have prepared for properly even if I had known they were to come. “There is something I need to say to you, Little Sister,” he said. “I have had the opportunity to think a great deal during these past three years. Working on the bridges is mostly time alone with your thoughts. I’m glad the spirits have given me this chance to tell you now. I am sorry. So sorry. I should have said this to you long ago.”

  Misery etched my brother’s face, and I couldn’t imagine why he was apologizing to me in such earnestness. He must have recognized my confusion, for he said, “You don’t understand? You don’t remember?”

  “Remember what?”

  “It was my fault, Little Sister. I didn’t look after you properly. The jaguar never would have attacked you if I had watched over you as I was supposed to.”