Sister Light, Sister Dark

by Jane Yolen

Jenna nodded and Skada nodded back, a movement so slight no one could have noticed.

  “I called and she answered,” Jenna said to the priestess.

  “I would have come sooner had she asked sooner,” Skada added.

  Then Jenna told of finding Pynt and the children in the hidden rooms and leading them away from the slaughterhouse, over the meadows, under the nose of the Old Hanging Man, and home.

  Now dry-eyed, Petra spoke up. “Jo-an-enna has told you what has happened, but not who she is. My Mother Alta named her. Now your Mother must tell you the same.”

  Mother Alta turned her head by moving her entire body slowly, as if a mountain had turned. She stared angrily at the girl, but Petra stared back defiantly.

  “What do you mean?” Donya asked Petra.

  But Catrona turned to the priestess. “Tell us, Mother.” There was a strange challenge in her voice.

  “Tell us,” the other women echoed.

  Sensing she was losing control of them, Mother Alta leaned back slowly and held up her hands so that the blue goddess sign showed. Her sister followed suit, and their four palms flashed the powerful signal to quiet the room.

  When she had their complete attention, she waited a beat longer, then began. “What young Petra means,” she said, letting her voice linger on the word young, “is that there is a story about the Anna, the white avatar of the Goddess, that is still told in some of the more backward Hames.”

  Petra shook her head. “Nill’s Hame was no backwater community. And the Anna is no story, Mother, as well you know. It is a prophecy.” She took two steps into the semicircle, looked around at the women to gather in their attention, and began to recite the prophecy in that singsong voice priestesses affected for such things.

  The babe as white as snow,

  A maiden tall shall grow,

  And ox and hound bow low,

  And bear and cat also.

  Holy, holy, holy.

  No one moved as Petra continued. “Was Jenna not a white babe now grown straight and tall? Have not both the Bull and the Hound already fallen to her?”

  There was a low grunt of agreement from some of the women. Before they were fully quieted, Petra went on.

  She shall bring forth the end,

  And sever friend from friend.

  The brothers all shall bend,

  And we begin again.

  Holy, holy, holy.

  “What is that verse?” Mother Alta asked. “I have never heard those five lines.”

  “Do you think I made them up?” asked Perta. “And me so-young?”

  The women’s low mutterings began again.

  Petra leaned toward the priestess and spoke as if to her alone, though her voice rang clearly in the room. “Never was there more of an ending than Nill’s Hame, where sister from sister, mother from daughter, was severed. Surely Jenna was the harbinger of that end.”

  “I reject it!” Mother Alta roared above the women, who were now openly arguing. “I reject it utterly. I have asked for a sign from Great Alta and she has given me none. The heavens do not roar. The ground does not open up. All this was promised in the writings.” She looked around the hall, her hands up, no longer signaling but pleading. “Did I not seek out the truth of it myself? It was I who, fourteen years ago, followed backward Selna and Marjo’s trail. Yes, I, a priestess, who read the woodsign. In the town of Slipskin I found a farmer who spilled out his tale into my arms. This girl, this child you claim a wonder, was his, born from between his wife’s dead thighs. Jo-an-enna killed her mother. Is that the act of an avatar of Alta? She killed the midwife as well. And she was the cause of her foster mother’s death. Tell me, all you women who have born or fostered a child, is this the One you would follow?”

  “Would you blame the infant for its mother’s death? Would you shame the innocent? No blame, no shame—it is written in the Book,” Petra said. But her voice, being still a child’s, was weak compared with the full modulations of Mother Alta’s.

  The priestess stood, and her sister rose beside her. “Would I withhold from you such a miracle? Would I keep from you such a savior?” Seeing the women wavering, she pressed her advantage. “Who is she? I will tell you who she is. She is Jo-an-enna, a girl of this Hame. You watched when she spit pap from her baby mouth. You changed her soiled pants. You nursed her through rosy fever and dabbed at her dripping nose. She is your sister, your daughter, your friend, that is who she is. What more would you have her be?”

  Jenna looked around slowly at the rolling sea of faces. She could not read what lay written there. Pulling into herself, she began the breathing chant and within a space of ten counts once again started to feel the strange lightening. Slipping the gross bonds of her body, she lifted above it to survey all who quarreled below. In that other state, all was-silent and she could see each woman purely. Most clearly of all she could see herself. She wondered at the still, white center she found there. Her body was like the others, yet at the core there was a difference. Did that make her a savior, an avatar, the Anna? She did not know. But what seemed clear now was that Petra was right. Events would move forward whether she believed or not. She could be swept along, possibly drowned, like a child in the Halla. Or she could dig a channel to control the waters as the townsfolk of Selden had done with their flood. It was that simple.

  She let herself slip back into her body and opened her eyes. Moving into the center of the half circle, she raised her right hand. Skada did the same.

  “Sisters,” she began, her voice trembling, “Listen to me. I am the Anna! I am the Goddess’ good right hand. I go to warn the Hames that the time of the endings, the time of the beginnings, is here. I am the Anna. Who goes with me?”

  For a long moment there was silence and Jenna suddenly feared that the priestess had won and that she was cut off from all of them, now and forever.

  Then Pynt said, “If I were fit, I would go with you, Anna. But my place is here, here helping with the children even as I heal.”

  “I will go with you, Anna,” cried Petra, “for I know prophecy even though I do not know how to use a sword.”

  “And I,” called out Catrona. “With my sister by my side.” Her dark twin nodded.

  “We will go, too,” Amalda and Sammor said together.

  Jenna looked at them and shook her head. “No, my fourth mothers. You must stay. Selden Hame needs to ready itself for what comes soon. The time of endings. Your arms are needed here. I will go with Petra and Catrona and, at the moon times, we shall have our dark sisters with us. We are messengers, after all, not a mob.” Then she turned and spoke to the priestess. “We would go with your blessing, Mother, but we will go whether you give it or not.”

  Slumped against her chair, Mother Alta suddenly looked old. She waved her hand in a feeble sign that might have been a blessing. Her dark sister’s motion was feebler still. Neither of them spoke.

  “I know the way to most of the Hames,” Catrona said. “And I know where there is a map.”

  “And I know all the words to be said,” Petra added.

  Jenna laughed. “What more can a savior want?”

  “A sword would be helpful,” Skada said. “And perhaps a sense of the absurd.”

  It took no more than an hour to arm and provision them, and Donya outdid herself with the parcels and packs. It was as if she were supplying an army, but they could not tell her no.

  Skada whispered to Petra as they watched the food being packed, “Was it not strange that Mother Alta was unfamiliar with the second part of the prophecy?”

  Petra smiled. “Not strange at all,” she said. “I made it up. It is my one great trick. I was famous for reciting poems to order at Nill’s Hame.”

  And then they were off on the road from the Hame into history, a road that glistened under the waning moon in a night lit by the flickering of a thousand thousand stars. As the five of them strode down the path, the women of Selden Hame cried out behind them in a long, wavering ululation that was part prayer, part d
irge, and part farewell.

  THE MYTH:

  Then Great Alta set the queen of shadows and the queen of light onto the earth and commanded them to go forth.

  “And you two shall wear my face,” quoth Great Alta. “And you shall speak with my mouth. And you shall do my bidding for all time.”

  Where the one stepped, there sprang fire and the earth was scorched beneath her feet. Where the other stepped, there fell soothing rains and blossoms grew. So it was and so it will be. Blessed be.

  THE MUSIC OF THE DALES

  Prophecy

  Lord Gorum

  2. I’ve been far afoot, with my staff in my hand,

  The bull, the bear, the cat, and the hound,

  I have been out walking my dead father’s land,

  And the brothers have pulled me down.

  3. I looked in the mountains, I looked in the sea,

  The bull, the bear, the cat, and the hound,

  A-looking for someone a-looking for me,

  And the brothers have pulled me down.

  4. What have ye for supper, Lord Gorum, my son?

  The bull, the bear, the cat, and the hound,

  What have ye for supper, my pretty young one?

  And the brothers have pulled me down.

  5. I’ve nothing for supper and nothing to rise,

  The bull, the bear, the cat, and the hound,

  But fed on the look in my own true love’s eyes,

  And the brothers have pulled me down.

  6. What will ye leave to that true love, my son?

  The bull, the bear, the cat, and the hound.

  What will she leave you, my handsome young one?

  And the brothers have pulled me down.

  7. My kingdom, my crown, my name, and my grave,

  The bull, the bear, the cat, and the hound,

  Her hair, her heart, her place in the cave,

  And the brothers have pulled me down.

  Lullaby to the Cat’s Babe

  The Ballad of White Jenna

  2. Thirty and three rode side by side,

  And by the moonlight fortified.

  “Fight on, my sisters,” Jenna cried.

  “Fight for the Great White Alta.”

  3. The blood flowed swift, like good red wine,

  As sisters took the battle line.

  “This kingdom I will claim for mine

  And for the heart of Alta!”

  4. Thirty and three rode out that day

  To hold the dreaded foe at bay,

  But never more they passed this way

  Led by the hand of Jenna.

  5. Yet still, some say, in darkest night,

  The sisters can be heard to fight

  And you will see a flash of white

  The long white braid of Jenna.

  The Ballad of the Selden Babe

  2. A maiden went to Seldentown,

  A maid no more was she,

  Her hair hung loose about her neck,

  Her gown about her knee,

  A babe was slung upon her back,

  A bonny babe was he.

  3. She went into the clearing wild,

  She went too far from town,

  A man came up behind her

  And he cut her neck around,

  A man came up behind her

  And he pushed that fair maid down

  4. “And will ye have your way wi’ me,

  Or will ye cut me dead,

  Or do ye hope to take from me

  My long-lost maidenhead?

  Why have ye brought me far from town

  Upon this grass-green bed?”

  5. He never spoke a single word,

  Nor gave to her his name,

  Nor whence and where his parentage,

  Nor from which town he came,

  He only thought to bring her low

  And heap her high with shame.

  6. But as he set about his plan,

  And went about his work,

  The babe upon the maiden’s back

  Had touched her hidden dirk,

  And from its sheath had taken it

  All in the clearing’s mirk.

  7. And one and two, the tiny hands

  Did fell the evil man,

  Who all upon his mother had

  Commenced the wicked plan.

  God grant us all such bonny babes

  And a good and long life span.

  Alta’s Song

  2. But from that mother I was torn,

  Fire and water and all,

  And to a hillside I was borne,

  Great Alta take my soul.

  3. And on that hillside was I laid,

  Fire and water and all,

  And taken up all by a maid,

  Great Alta save my soul.

  4. And one and two and three we rode

  Fire and water and all,

  Till others took the heavy load,

  Great Alta take my soul.

  5. Let all good women hark to me,

  Fire and water and all,

  For fostering shall set thee free,

  Great Alta save my soul,

  Come Ye Women

  Turn the page to continue reading from the Great Alta Saga

  BOOK ONE

  MESSENGERS

  THE MYTH:

  Then Great Alta looked down upon her messengers, those whom she had severed from her so that they might be bound more closely to her. She looked upon the white sister and the dark, the young sister and the old.

  “I shall not speak to you that you may hear. I shall not show myself to you that you may see. For a child must be set free to find her own destiny, even if that destiny be the one the mother has foretold.”

  And then Great Alta made the straight path crooked before them and the crooked path straight. She set traps for them and pits that they might be comforted when they escaped, that they might remember her loving kindness and rejoice in it.

  THE LEGEND:

  It was in the town of Slipskin, now called New Moulting, soft into the core of the new year’s spring, that three young women, and one of them White Jenna, rode out upon a great gray horse.

  His back was as broad as a barn door, his withers could not be spanned. Each hoof struck fire from the road. Where his feet paced, there crooked paths were made smooth and mountains laid low, straight paths were pitted and gullies cut from the hills.

  There are folk in New Moulting who say it was no horse at all, but a beast sent by Alta herself to carry them over the miles. There are footprints still near the old road into Slipskin, carved right into the stone. And downriver, in the town of Selden, there are three great ribs of the thing set over the church door that all might see them and wonder.

  THE STORY:

  The road was a gray ribbon in the moonlight, threading between trees. Five women stood on the road, listening to a ululating cry behind them.

  Two of the women, Catrona and Katri, were clearly middle-aged, with lines like runes across their brows. They had short-cropped hair and wore their swords with a casual authority.

  The youngest, Petra, stood with her shoulders squared. There was a defiance in the out-thrust of her chin, but her eyes were softer and her tongue licked her lips nervously.

  Jenna was the extremely tall girl, not yet a woman for all that her hair was as white as the moonlight. Whiter, as it had no shadows. The other tall girl, but a hairbreadth smaller, and a bit thinner, and dark, was Skada.

  “I will miss the sound of their voices,” Jenna said.

  “I will not,” Skada answered. “Voices have a binding power. It is best for us to look ahead now. We are messengers, not memorizers.”

  “And we have far to go,” Catrona said. “With many Hames to warn.” She drew a map from her leather pocket and spread the crackling parchment upon the ground. With Katri’s help she smoothed it out and pointed to a dark spot. “We are here, Selden Hame. The swiftest route would be there, down the river road into Selden itself, across the bridge.
Then we go along the river with our backs to the Old Hanging Man, never losing sight of these twin peaks.” She pointed to the arching lines on the map.

  “Alta’s Breast,” said Skada.

  “You learned your lessons well,” said Katri.

  “What Jenna knows, I know.”

  Catrona continued moving her finger along the route. “The road goes on and on, with no forks or false trails to this Hame.” Her finger tapped the map twice and Katri’s did the same.

  “Calla’s Ford Hame,” said Jenna. “Where Selinda and Alna have begun their mission year. It will be good to see them. I have missed them …”

  “But not much,” murmured Skada.

  “Is it the best place to start?” Jenna asked. “Or should we go farther out? Closer to the king’s court?”

  Catrona smiled. “The Hames are in a great circle. Look here.” And she pointed to one after another, calling out the names of the Hames as if in a single long poem. “Selden, Calla’s Ford, Wilma’s Crossing, Josstown, Calamarie, Carpenter’s, Krisston, West Dale, Annsville, Crimerci, Lara’s Well, Sammiton, East James, John-o-the-Mill’s, Carter’s Tracing, North Brook, and Nill’s Hame. The king’s court is in the center.”

  “So none will complain if we visit Calla’s Ford first,” Katri said, her finger resting, as did Catrona’s, on the last Hame. “As it is closest.”

  “And as our own Hame’s children are there,” added Catrona.

  “But we must be quick,” Jenna reminded them all.

  Catrona and Katri stood simultaneously, Catrona folding the map along its old creases. She put it back in the leather pocket and handed it to Petra.

  “Here, child, in case we should be parted from one another,” Catrona said.

  “But I am the least worthy,” Petra said. “Should not Jenna …”

  “Now that Jenna has seen the map once, she has it for good. She is warrior-trained in the Eye-Mind Game and could recite the names and places for you even now. Am I right, Jenna?” Catrona asked.

  Jenna hesitated for a moment, seeing again the map as it had lain under Catrona’s hands. She began to recite slowly but with complete confidence, outlining as she spoke with her foot in the road’s dirt, “Selden, Calla’s Ford, Wilma’s Crossing, Josstown …”