Rook

by Robin Roseau

  It was when the tour was over that Yahamala said, “I would like to meet a few of the girls. Could we sit in one of the playrooms and see who wishes to talk to us? Perhaps Mandi and Nissi will find a playmate or two.”

  The woman didn’t know what to make of that, but she led us back to the room she had called, “The Craft Room.” The chairs were sized for young children, but Yahamala simply sat on the floor, and I sat beside her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting to see if any children wish to meet me,” she replied. “Perhaps that one.” She gestured to a boy. “He’s cute.”

  Well, that particular boy didn’t show us any interest, but another did, coming to stare at Larien, now sitting beside me. “You’re pretty,” he said to her.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “You’re cute yourself. I’m Larien. What’s your name?”

  “That’s a funny name,” he said. “I’m Disdáhrfidél.”

  I snorted then muttered in Arrlottan, “And he thinks her name is funny.”

  “Are you a priestess?” the boy asked.

  “Yes, I am,” Larien said.

  He gestured to Mandi and Nissi, who had joined a young girl and were letting her teach them what she was doing. “They have the same kind of hair you do.”

  “They are acolytes,” Larien explained. She had to explain what an acolyte was. Then she asked if he followed Our Prestainamatta.

  “That’s a funny word,” he declared. “Next year I’m going to go to school. I wanted to go this year, but they said I’m not old enough.”

  Larien and the little boy talked for another minute before he plopped down in her lap. Larien always charmed everyone. It was another minute before a little girl curled up with Terél. I half listened as the they took turns telling the children about Our Prestainamatta.

  But then my heart swelled, as from across the room, I heard Mandi and Nissi doing the same thing, taking turns, and telling the other children what they’d been learning. “Oh, Yahamala, are you listening?”

  “Of course,” she said. “But you know I can’t understand a word.”

  “Oh, sometimes I forget. Mandi and Nissi are explaining your words.”

  “How are they doing?”

  “I think they’re listening to Larien and Terél. They’re doing well.”

  “The girl there.” She gestured. “The one playing with the doll. Is she listening?”

  I cocked my head and then said, “Yes, I think so.” I turned to the Goddess. “Why isn’t she playing with the other girls?”

  “That one,” Yahamala said. “With the brown hair.”

  “Pigtails?” I asked.

  “Yes. That one is unkind. She has had a difficult life and lashes out at those around her.”

  “They’re orphans. By definition, they’ve all had a difficult life.”

  “More difficult than a girl of The Hippa?”

  I thought about it. “I don’t know. A different type of difficult.”

  “They are not cruel here,” she said. “The adults. They truly are doing the best they can, but they have so little love to spread amongst so many children. I would help all here, if I could, but everything I do, I do through you, and you are doing as much as you can.” She turned to me and caressed my cheek. “Yalla, I will be claiming one more of your daughters, and possibly two.” Then she smiled. “You need to make more.”

  I laughed. “Alta and Juleena are working on that. Yahamala, what happens when they grow up? Whose children become high priestess?”

  “I must choose, which I won’t do for at least another decade and a half,” she replied. “This is the only time I am able to choose. Tell Larien I want her to send that boy away and lure the girl into his place.”

  “May she be gentle with the boy?”

  “Of course.”

  Keeping my words in the same language, I told Larien what the Goddess wanted. She nodded, letting us know she had heard me, and a minute later, the boy scampered away, seemingly intent on a new mission. A minute after that, Larien’s lap was being warmed by the girl, who brought her doll with her.

  “I wish I had ten more just like Larien,” Yahamala said. “I love all my priestesses, but Larien applies her own magic.”

  “That she does,” I agreed.

  “Can you imagine if she were running an abbey?” Yahamala said.

  “Was that a hint?”

  “No. You need her by your side, and Terél, too. Talíahmarteen, now… She needs experience, but she has such potential.”

  “The sort of experience she’s about to receive?”

  “Yes.” She gestured. “What do you think of Melíshta?”

  “She is certainly enamored of the lap she’s in.” The girl was beaming widely, gazing at Larien with adoration. That hadn’t taken long at all. “I presume she’s why we’re here.”

  “I wanted to see this place. I wanted you to see it.”

  “Oh?”

  “I do not like these places. There is little we can do now, but I want you thinking of solutions. Children should be loved. This is not something we’ll solve today, but in a few years, we’ll talk.”

  “All right,” I said. “I noticed you didn’t answer my question.”

  “So I didn’t,” she replied.

  I waited to see if she would say more. When she didn’t, I spoke a little more loudly, my voice pitched for Larien. “She’s interested in this one, Larien. I’d like your opinion.” Larien turned to look at me for a moment, then turned her gaze back to the child.

  “You didn’t answer my question, either,” Yahamala said.

  “I haven’t formed a real opinion yet.”

  “And you delegated the duty to Larien.” She gave a low chuckle. Then she lifted her voice. “Nissi.” My daughter turned to look. Yahamala smiled and said, “Would you come to me, please?”

  “Yes, Prestainamatta,” Nissi replied. She set aside the toy she was playing with and then bounced over. By the time she arrived, Yahamala had lifted into the air a foot or two. She picked up a giggling Nissi and plopped her into her lap.

  “Do you like the other girls?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  Yahamala carried on a simple conversation with my daughter, but I knew that wasn’t the point, it wasn’t the point at all.

  Absolutely everyone was staring as Nissi floated in the air. They couldn’t see the Goddess, but they could clearly see the girl. Yahamala looked at me and smiled. “Sometimes a little evidence goes a long way.”

  I listened from one side as Mandi told those closest to her what was happening while at the same time, Larien and Terél explained to the two girls they held along with a few other children who were clustered around.

  Then one of the older girls, one I thought should still be in school, stepped over. “How is she doing that?”

  And so Larien explained again. The girl asked, “Can all priestesses do that?”

  “Unfortunately not,” Larien replied. “Our Prestainamatta can only directly interact with her high priestesses.”

  “That girl is a high priestess?”

  “A high priestess in training,” Larien clarified.

  “How does one become a high priestess in training?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I am the high priestess, and Nissi is my daughter.”

  “Oh.” The girl looked annoyed, then smiled. “You could adopt me.”

  I was proud of my daughter. While this conversation was going on, Nissi had quietly been translating to Yahamala, although she was paraphrasing. Still, she was doing well enough that Yahamala said, “What an interesting idea.”

  “Does it work that way?” I asked.

  “Well, no. But it remains an interesting idea for other reasons.”

  Nissi repeated that, doing her job. I was so proud. Hearing the repeated words, Larien and Terél both turned their attention towards me, Larien’s eyebrow rising as she did so. “Did she repeat that properly?” Terél asked.

  “Ye
s,” I said. I turned to the Goddess. “You know I would rather you spoke plainly.”

  “I believe I have. Yallameenara, you are the head of our order, not me.” She smiled. “I am only offering an occasional observation.”

  “What language are you speaking?” the older girl asked.

  “Our Prestainamatta has her own language,” I replied. I cocked my head. “It doesn’t work the way you hope.”

  “I wouldn’t be a high priestess in training if you adopted me.”

  “No.”

  She was wearing a black bonnet, but without a word, she pulled it off and then fingered her hair, removing the stays and letting her black, black hair spill down over her shoulders. “I used to hope,” she said. “I’m too old now. Our Prestainamatta takes girls much younger than I am.”

  I turned to the Goddess. “Are you playing a game?”

  “No, Yalla, I am not. I now want you to come to your own decisions.”

  “All right,” I said. I looked at Larien. “What do you think about the one you’re holding?” She didn’t speak but simply nodded. I looked up at the older girl. “Come,” I told her. “Sit here, with me.” I gestured to the place before me.

  “Not your lap?” she asked with a smile.

  “I think perhaps here,” I said again. The girl stepped over and sat down facing me. We smiled at each other. Hers was tentative, but she was lovely, and I thought she was brave. “What is your name?”

  “Temíliaterstía. You might prefer Terstí.”

  “You’ve heard a little about me, I gather,” I said with a smile. “Did you grow up here?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look like you belong in school.”

  “I’m sixteen.”

  “As I said, you look like you belong in school.”

  “Some of the kids only go to school until they’re twelve, and then they get jobs. I stayed until I was fourteen.” I thought there was significance in that, but I didn’t ask.

  “And now you work here?”

  “We rotate,” she explained. I wasn’t quite sure what that implied, but I nodded anyway.

  “Did you like school? Did you like learning?”

  “It was okay,” she said. “I like to read. I read to the little kids before bedtime.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s fun,” she replied.

  “Is that the only time you read?”

  “Oh, no, but we don’t have very many books. I think I’ve read all of them five times each.”

  “Do you know, I was ten and four years old before I even knew books existed?”

  “No.”

  “Yes. I grew up as a girl of The Horse People.”

  “I know,” she replied. “Garneer, but you call it The Hippa.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “The Horse People don’t have books?”

  “They don’t even write,” I said.

  “Are you teasing me?”

  “No,” I said. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “I had a little brother.”

  “Had?” I echoed. “Was he adopted?”

  “No. He died. With mom.”

  My heart nearly burst at that, but it was a familiar story, and I was assured it wasn’t at all unique, especially in this place. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “I don’t really remember,” she replied. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  “One of each,” I said. “I haven’t seen them since I left The Hippa.”

  “Was that a long time ago?”

  “Yes.” I realized it was about the same time that her mother probably died. “Terstí, how serious was your suggestion I adopt you?”

  “You want to adopt me? Usually only the really little kids get homes.”

  I leaned forward and brushed her hair, then my own. Her eyes widened. “But… She only takes young girls. I’m sixteen.”

  “How serious were you, Terstí,” I asked again.

  “You’re not just teasing me?”

  “There is something Our Prestainamatta taught me,” I said. “It lets me see into someone’s heart, to see what kind of person she is. With little girls, I don’t necessarily do that. But you’re old enough, I’d want to see into your heart, and you could see into mine at the same time. It’s… it can be hard. I can see everything.”

  “And I can see everything, too?”

  “Yes,” I said. “The good and the bad.”

  “There can’t be very much that’s bad if you’re the high priestess.”

  “I was a girl of The Hippa, Terstí,” I said. “There are things I wouldn't want a younger girl than you to see.”

  “You want to look into my heart, and if you like me, you’re going to…” She trailed off, then turned into a whisper, “make me a priestess?”

  “If that is what you want,” I said.

  “More than anything,” she said.

  “It’s probably not at all what you think it is,” I said. “You’d have to learn.”

  “I know her words,” she said, and then she recited them all, giving an excellent summary.

  “Very good,” I said. “You would learn to say that in her language.”

  “I would?”

  “You would,” I said. “And you would also learn to speak Framaran.”

  “I would?”

  “Yes. And I’d ask you to help take care of the younger girls. Later, in a few years, you would probably travel through Alteara, helping people understand Our Prestainamatta. Do you want to talk to anyone before you decide?”

  “You’re not just teasing.”

  “I wouldn’t tease about something like this, Terstí.”

  Her eyes watered, and she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “You may look into my heart. I don’t think there’s anything bad in there.”

  “All right, then,” I said. “Come a little closer. I have to touch you.” She adjusted, and then I leaned forward, setting my hands into place. The magic came forth, and as it did, I felt the hands of Our Prestainamatta as well, sharing this view with me.

  I looked, and I knew Terstí looked back. I asked questions, and I received my answers.

  Around us, although it didn’t really register at the time, there was a shocked gasp. I didn’t notice that right away, but when I released the girl and leaned away from her, tears were running down both our cheeks.

  And her hair had grown longer, and was now black and white and black and white.

  “Your hair, Terstí,” someone said. “Your hair!”

  The girl grabbed her hair and pulled where she could see. She stared at the white for a while, and then, with a great sob, she threw herself at me, hugging very, very tightly. “Thank you,” she said several times. “I love you, Yallameenara.”

  “I love you, too, Terstí,” I said.

  The bond flared, or perhaps it had grown while I had been changing her hair, but I felt it now, as strongly as any other. I brushed her cheek with my fingers. I smiled. “You don’t know half of what is about to happen in your life,” I said. “But now I have to see to Mel- Um. Mel-.”

  Terstí smiled. “Melíshta. She’s very quiet. Some of the other girls pick on her.”

  “Not anymore,” I said. I stood, smiled at Yahamala, then walked over to Larien. The girl in her lap was staring at Terstí, her eyes wide. I knelt down and said, “Melíshta, do you have any brothers or sisters?” She shook her head. “All right. I’m going to touch your hair. Is that all right?” she nodded.

  And so I brushed at her hair.

  When I was done, I said, “Larien, I’d like to return to the palace now.”

  “Naddíqualestra, Resaírelteena, see to the High Priestess while Terélmarestra and I help the girls pack.”

  “See to the High Priestess,” meant, in effect, to temporarily return to their old duties, but neither woman complained. They moved to my side, Naddí encouraging me to lean against her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I sai
d. “I don’t need taking care of.”

  “We miss you,” Féla said. “Don’t fuss.”

  I snorted. “Queen Ralalta would have liked to have had the two of you watching over me after my ten and eighth birthday.”

  “When you ran away from home?” Naddí asked.

  “I didn’t run away from home. I took a little trip without discussing it with anyone first.”

  “Right,” Féla said. “That sounds like running away from home to me.”

  “I was an adult,” I said. “Adults can take a trip down the coast if they want to.”

  “And yet, apparently, the queen wasn’t pleased, anyway,” Féla said. “And you’re right. If she’d had us, she wouldn’t have had to worry.”

  “Knowing we were with you,” Naddí added. “It’s not like we could have stopped you.”

  “Oh, please,” I said.

  “As we’ve heard it,” Féla said, “You weren’t the one being foolish. Now, if you’d tried to do something that was actually foolish, that we would have stopped.”

  I hugged them both. “I’m so glad you two don’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  They laughed.

  * * * *

  It didn’t take long, and so it was perhaps twenty minutes later that we slipped from the orphanage just as some of the older children were returning from school. And that was when Yahamala said, “Yallameenara, perhaps you should ask Temíliaterstía if there are any other girls she thinks should leave with us.”

  I snapped my gaze towards her. Mandi had taken over echoing the Goddess, so most of my group understood what she had said. And, as a group, we came to a stop.

  I didn’t even argue. “Terstí, Our Prestainamatta wonders if there might perhaps be one or two other girls you feel should join us.”

  “Young,” Yahamala prompted. “With straight hair.”

  She cocked her head then said slowly, “Some of the other girls are really sweet, but none like that.”

  I glanced at Yahamala as she listened to the translation. She made no signal, so I shrugged and began heading down the front steps. But then Terstí said, “Well, there’s Gliéstellsen, but she has white hair.”

  And ahead of us, walking alone while singing a song, was a girl of six or seven. And when I looked at Yahamala, she was watching the girl. “Now is when you ask why we’re here, Yalla.”