The Ugly One Read online

  Ucho sat in the center of the village with his younger brother, Muti, teaching him the complicated game of conkana. They kneeled over the board, and Muti threw the wooden dice and moved his colored bean with a sly smile on his face. Ucho pretended to scowl, but he also put his hand on Muti’s shoulder in proud support. Seeing Ucho make this small gesture of kindness and caring somehow hurt me more than any of his harsh words ever had.

  Mother had asked me to collect some plants for dyeing, and I wanted to ask her a question before leaving. I shouldn’t have walked through the village to find her. I should have walked around the outside. And I certainly shouldn’t have paused to watch the boys playing their game.

  Of course Ucho sighted me there with Sumac perched proudly on my shoulder. Sumac was still young, but his feathers were bright and bold now, and he surveyed the world with the air of a fine nobleman.

  “It’s the Ugly One and her filthy bird husband,” Ucho said as he rose from the game. He strode quickly to us, Muti following right behind. “Perhaps I’ll get you some rotting meat so you can have a proper feast.”

  Ucho squinted and moved closer to Sumac. The Handsome One crouched low on my shoulder and swayed slowly from side to side. His beak opened, and he made a sharp hissing sound, as if in warning. I had never seen him behave this way.

  “Filthy pest!” Ucho said, and he poked a finger into Sumac’s beautiful red belly.

  Old Sutic, who had been dozing against a wall nearby, stood as if to intervene, but before he could say a word, the Handsome One took action.

  With a loud squawk, the bird lunged at Ucho and grabbed hold of his nose with his strong beak. Blood spurted, and Ucho screamed in anger and surprise while Sumac held on with fierce determination. With one hand, Ucho clutched at his bleeding nose. With the other he grasped for the bird, who squawked once more and took off into the air. It was his first flight, and he wobbled unsteadily as he rose higher and veered to the left. I think he was as surprised as I was to find himself flying.

  I pushed past Ucho, trying to stay beneath Sumac’s flight path so I wouldn’t lose him. I was frightened. What if he soared so high, he couldn’t come back down? What if he became lost in the mountains? He wouldn’t know how to care for himself. And I would be alone again.

  I need not have worried. At the outskirts of the village, Sumac slowed his flight and skidded to a landing outside the great Paqo’s wasi. Then, looking pleased with himself, he puffed out his feathers, gave a great braaawk, and waddled into the Paqo’s home as if he were a welcome and expected guest.

  I hesitated outside. Sumac seemed uninjured, but I didn’t think the Paqo would appreciate his intrusion. Carefully, I slid past the hummingbird weaving into the wasi, hoping I wouldn’t be interrupting an important ceremony.

  The Paqo sat on the ground with Sumac perched on his arm. As he wiped Sumac’s beak, which showed traces of red from his attack on Ucho, the shaman smiled and nodded his head, and I was struck by the feeling that the two of them were having a true conversation. There was a familiarity in their movements that made me wonder if Sumac had visited the Paqo before, without my knowledge.

  “Don’t worry. Ucho will be fine. I’ll treat him when he comes to me later,” the Paqo said, and I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to Sumac.

  “I don’t think Ucho will ever be fine,” I muttered.

  The Paqo looked up with a bemused expression, but it was to Sumac that he spoke. “So she does have a voice.”

  Sumac bobbed his head up and down. He did this often to show he was pleased with himself, but now it looked as if he was agreeing with the shaman. The Paqo cocked his head at the bird. “Perhaps. We shall see.” Sumac spread his wings and flew over to me. His claws curled into my shoulder reassuringly as he landed, his bird body a welcome weight.

  “Ucho is cruel,” I said hotly. And then I spewed forth feelings I hadn’t shared before with anyone. “He is very cruel. I would stomp him into the ground if I could. I would feed him to the serpents. I would tie him to a rock for many days and nights and listen to him cry out for water, and I wouldn’t move to help. Not at all.”

  The Paqo replied in a tone that was much calmer than mine. “All creatures serve a purpose. If it weren’t for the boy, you wouldn’t be here now, speaking your mind, showing you have thoughts other than how to hide. He has given you courage.”

  I spoke more quietly now. “He is the reason I hide.”

  “Ah. There is strength in this new voice of yours. But it lacks wisdom.”

  The Paqo’s comment made me bristle. I believed he was wrong, for I thought myself wiser than most. But I wasn’t about to argue with this powerful man.

  The Paqo stood and joined me, pulling aside the door weaving to reveal the trees outside. “Learn the lessons hidden in the leaves.”

  This was riddle talk I didn’t understand, so I said nothing.

  “See how the wind blows the tree?” he went on, pointing to a young molle. “Do the leaves fight the wind? Of course not. Are they angry because it moves them back and forth? No. Does the wind change the nature of the leaf? Not at all. The leaf is. You have allowed the wind to change your nature.”

  I didn’t care much then about the leaves and the wind. “But Ucho stings at me all the time. I am tired of it.”

  “We all have our troubles. Cruel words. No rain.” I couldn’t tell if the shaman was mocking me. “You have chosen your way.”

  “I never chose this!”

  His face softened. “No. No, you did not,” he said gently, staring at my right cheek. “But you choose to fight what is.”

  The wind shifted direction. With it, a sense of unease filled my chest.

  “They are coming for the bird,” the shaman said.

  These words immediately filled me with fear. Of course they were coming for Sumac. He had bitten Ucho. They would kill my beautiful bird, my one true friend. My entire body began to tremble. What was I to do?

  “He attacked a member of the llaqta,” the Paqo stated.

  “Ucho attacked him first.”

  “The bird is a menace.”

  My shaking stopped at this accusation. Here I met the Paqo’s gaze and held it firmly in my own. “You know he is not.”

  The shaman smiled fully, the gap in his top front teeth a message of enjoyment. “You presume to tell the great Paqo what he does or does not know?”

  It was because of the smile that I was able to reply, “Yes.”

  “They will see the bird as a threat. Does this not make him a threat?”

  “I don’t know how to answer your questions. You speak in riddles that I don’t understand.”

  “Ah! The new voice speaks first with strength and now with wisdom. I will discuss the matter with Yawar. It is time for you to leave, for soon they will arrive with the injured boy.”

  I nodded. It wouldn’t be safe for Sumac if Ucho and the others found us now. Better to hide and let hot tempers cool.

  As I turned to flee, the shaman chuckled. “So you see? You came when the bird told you to,” he said.

  Sumac squawked and bobbed his head up and down once more in agreement, as if the two of them had conspired to bring me there.

  “You will come back tomorrow.”

  “I will?”

  “Yes. There are many hidden lessons waiting to be seen and heard and felt. They want to be understood. I will reveal them to you.”

  I had no time to reply. As I slipped away between the trees and branches, careful to avoid the path of the people, my head was busy with fierce wonderings. How could the Paqo have known what had happened? I had not told him that Sumac had bitten Ucho, yet the shaman was clearly aware of the attack. I eyed Sumac warily. Exactly how much had he shared with the great Paqo? But these questions were tiny pebbles compared with my mountainous wonder at what had just happened. I was fairly certain that I had become the apprentice of the great Paqo.

  ***

  I stayed away until it was time for the evening meal. The momen
t I entered the wasi, Father put down his bowl of stew and began screeching. “Where have you been? Yawar was here looking for you! You have shamed us all with that creature of yours!”

  Mama studied Sumac atop my shoulder. “Will they kill the bird?” she asked quietly.

  “I don’t think so. The Paqo said he would speak on my behalf.” I took my place on the floor and poured a bowl of stew for myself.

  “Why would he do that?” Chasca asked.

  A worthwhile question. I was uncertain of the true reason, so I offered the simplest explanation. “I am to study with him.”

  The entire family went silent at this.

  “You are to study with the great Paqo? Such an honor! How did this happen? What spirits smile upon us to bring such good fortune?” Papa was clearly pleased. He viewed the world with an eye for status and power. I smiled, glad that I had made him proud.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” Chasca asked in concern. “I have heard he is disgraced, that he was sent away from Cuzco by the Sapa Inca himself.”

  I had heard this as well. It was the favored explanation for the Paqo’s sudden arrival in our llaqta several years ago. But even if I had been frightened by such sayings, I couldn’t have denied the mighty shaman. He had chosen me. I was to study with him.

  Mama smiled at me and said, “We don’t know why the Paqo left the capital city, but I am certain he has much to teach you. You will be a good yachachisqa, a strong learning girl. Just be careful, my daughter.”

  It is these last words that showed Mama’s right and true heart. She was afraid. But I didn’t ask myself then what it was that brought fear to my quiet, watching mother. It didn’t occur to me until later that dwelling in the realm of the spirits could bring danger, especially to an ugly girl in a time when the rains didn’t come.

  9

  Musuq Simi

  New Voice

  THE next morning, Sumac and I went to the Paqo’s wasi after the morning sun greeting. He already had a visitor: Cora, the unfortunate wife of old Sutic. He gestured me inside, and I seated myself beside them without speaking.

  The Paqo was studying the inside of a large clay jar. I peered in and saw a handful of spiders crawling about. The hearth fire crackled and hissed as he slowly waved his fingers and whispered strangely to the spiders. “Yes, yes. I see. But what of the back?”

  Cora sat with wide eyes, her hands clenched tightly in worry. The Paqo leaned in so closely, his lips almost touched the edge of the jar. He smiled down on the scurrying eight-legged creatures and whispered, “Ah, yes. To the right. I see.” Then he sat up abruptly and spoke to Cora. “Your husband will sleep on his right side. This will help the back pain. Be sure he takes the medicines.”

  Cora opened her hands to examine a small pouch she held. She nodded her head vigorously. “Pachis, thank you, mighty shaman. Pachis!”

  The Paqo selected a cluster of dried grasses hanging upside down from the roof beam. “This is muña grass,” he said as he handed it to her. “Burn it inside the wasi. Breathe in the smoke. It will help soothe your headaches.”

  Cora looked at him in surprise, and I could see she hadn’t told him of her own physical pains.

  “It isn’t always so easy to be the wife of Sutic, eh?” the Paqo asked with a gentle smile. Cora smiled back at him uncertainly and gave a faint nod of agreement. She studied the muña with wonder before delicately placing it inside the folds of her clothing.

  I had never thought much about Cora’s troubles before. I had seen her my whole life, and not once had I asked myself what it would be like to be her. To watch her husband retch up filthy foot water in front of the people, to stand by his side while others laughed, to support him and walk away from Uncle Turu and his stories. None of this could have been easy. How many similar moments had she experienced? Was it possible she was as unhappy in life as I was?

  Rising, Cora kissed her fingers and bowed toward the Paqo. She slowly backed her way out of the wasi, pausing to bow and kiss her fingers every few steps. Then, with a final “Pachis!” she was gone. I hoped the medicines would help her husband’s stooping back and her aching head. I wondered if I might learn something that could help her. And then it occurred to me that there might come a time when the Paqo would use his power to heal my scarred face. Might I ever have the courage to ask him to do such a thing?

  “You are free to go,” the Paqo said.

  At first I thought he meant me, but then I saw the spiders were leaving the jar, crawling over the thick edge and down toward the earth to safety. One lone spider remained atop the jar, its delicate legs blending in to the thin geometric designs that crisscrossed their way down the painted sides.

  “Will the new voice speak today?”

  I smiled. I was nervous. I didn’t know why I was there or what we would do. More talk of the lessons in the leaves, perhaps? “Yes,” I said.

  The Paqo scowled. “No,” he replied. “Today the new voice listens.”

  Even simple questions were not to be answered lightly in this place. My first word of the lesson, and it was wrong. I repeated, “Today the new voice listens.”

  The Paqo nodded with a quiet grunt of affirmation. And then he said nothing. For a long time, he sat and said nothing. I stayed seated as well, waiting for his next words. They didn’t come. Still I didn’t speak. I would not be wrong again. If I must, I would wait all day for his words.

  Sumac rested comfortably, his cheek next to my head. He tucked his left leg up to his belly and began grating the top and bottom of his beak together, a quiet sound that told me he was preparing to sleep. It soothed me somewhat, but I felt now that I was somehow failing to solve a simple riddle. What did the Paqo want me to do? Why had he chosen me to study with him when I couldn’t answer even the easiest of questions? I should leave. I wasn’t meant to be here. Not only was I ugly, I was unwise. It was a terrible thing to realize about myself, for what did I have left?

  “Well?” the Paqo asked sharply. “What did you hear?”

  And suddenly I understood. I was supposed to have been listening not to the Paqo’s words but to something else. What had I heard? In a panic, I tried to grasp at some sound. “Sumac falling asleep.”

  “And what is the sound of a bird falling asleep?”

  “He grates his beak. The sound grows louder, then slows and stops. When he is quiet, I know he has fallen asleep.”

  “You didn’t see him fall asleep,” the Paqo said. This was a statement, not a question, for he had been watching me the whole time and knew it was so. “Are you certain he is truly sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  I didn’t turn to look at Sumac. Instead, I kept my gaze on the Paqo. “I know. He is standing on one foot as he does in sleep. I can feel it in the way he grips my shoulder. He is very still.”

  The Paqo smiled. “Good. Very good. Now study the spider.”

  Perhaps I had passed the listening test. I turned my attention to the lone spider still sitting atop the jug. It was motionless, but Sumac stirred in response to my subtle shift in position.

  “All is one. All is now,” the Paqo said. “To realize this is to reach Beyond. Study the spider. Learn its wisdom. Its eyes are your eyes. All is one. There is a language more powerful and ancient than the human tongue. Hear the language of the world.”

  I tried to understand. I leaned forward, watching the spider so intently, my eyes began to water and blur. Still I stared. I tried to listen to the wisdom of the spider.

  Suddenly, Sumac reached down, and in one quick peck he snatched the bug into his mouth. The Handsome One had eaten my spider lesson!

  The Paqo hooted with laughter. He rubbed his head in delight. “You see? Again the bird is a teacher! Where is the spider? Has it disappeared?”

  “It’s in there now,” I said as I pointed to Sumac’s belly. He stretched his wings upward and bobbed his feathered head in bird delight.

  “We all are one. Bird and spider. Leaf and wind. To hear
is to see. To feel is to know. The past is now. All is Beyond. Do you understand?”

  Another question. I would answer truthfully. “No.”

  The Paqo nodded his head appreciatively at my honesty. “Good. Then you are not meant to.”

  I wasn’t meant to understand? Then why was I here? Was this to be my last lesson?

  The Paqo twitched his fingers at me as he added, “Yet.”

  I was afraid to speak, but also, I was afraid not to. “Will there come a time when I do understand? Is it possible I am the right and true person to study with you?”

  “I’m not the one to answer such questions.”

  “Who is?”

  “You.”

  The word hovered in the air. It clung to my wool cloak and settled on my shoulders far more heavily than the weight of Sumac.

  “But not yet,” the Paqo added. “New voices need time to grow. Study the spiders. Study all. Watch, listen, feel the oneness. You will know when you will know.”

  This was the end of the lesson. I didn’t back out of the wasi bowing and kissing my fingers at the Paqo as Cora had, for it didn’t seem appropriate. But I did pause at the hummingbird weaving in the doorway to say, “Pachis.”

  “You are most welcome, New Voice. I will see you tomorrow.”

  I smiled at these words. Not only because they told me there would be more lessons, but also because I had finally been given a name other than the Ugly One.

  10

  Mama Killa

  Moon Mother

  I studied all. I watched the people purge their homes at the start of the new moon. Every corner was cleaned, and corn-dough was rubbed along entranceways to appease the spirits of dirt and sickness. I listened for the ancient language of the world as Mama Killa, Moon Mother, grew larger in the sky night by night, but I had yet to hear the voice of Beyond right and true. I found myself questioning more and more why the shaman had chosen me. The spirit world would never speak to such an ugly girl, no matter how hard or long I listened.