Dragonfly Song

by Wendy Orr

  ‘I need a favour,’ he says abruptly.

  ‘The god-luck boy needs a favour?’ asks his brother.

  Luki ignores the sarcasm.

  ‘The girl they call No-Name . . .’

  ‘You’re too holy to spit at her yourself and you want us to do it?’

  Luki punches him. It feels good. ‘No! I want you to help her.’

  ‘But she’s cursed – and you want us to help her?’

  ‘Why?’ asks his mother.

  Luki’s taken a long time to work out the answer. They won’t help unless they know she saved him, but he can’t admit he put his life in danger.

  ‘I tripped on a training run . . .’

  His brother snorts.

  ‘I banged my head when I fell.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’ his mother shrieks, forgetting the bull dancer’s honour as she feels his head for lumps.

  ‘I’m fine! I only blacked out for a moment. But I landed by a viper . . .’

  ‘Where was your guard?’

  ‘He wasn’t far ahead!’ Luki says desperately, seeing his mother ready to attack. ‘It didn’t matter because the girl called the snake away.’

  Stunned silence. Luki has never heard his brother be quiet for so long.

  ‘You really did bang your head,’ his mother says finally. ‘Because whatever you think you heard, you mustn’t say that. Only the Lady can call snakes.’

  ‘But she did!’

  His mother kisses his forehead, holding his head firmly between her hands. ‘Luki, even the bull dancer doesn’t challenge the Lady. Promise you’ll never tell anyone else what you’ve told us, and we’ll help the girl.’

  Helping her isn’t easy, because Aissa’s not to be found. In the end they leave Luki with three big bunches of grapes in a goatskin bag. He adds a stolen poppy cake and cheese from the kitchen, and waits to see her.

  But if it’s not easy to find Aissa, it’s even harder for Luki to hide. At dusk the market is gone and the square nearly empty, but people come out of the shadows to be close to a bull dancer – to press his shoulder, touch his hand, soak up his god-luck.

  Until finally Luki realises: the only way to escape his power is to use it.

  ‘I want to be alone,’ he says, facing the sanctuary with his hand on his heart. No one’s going to interrupt a bull dancer while he’s praying – and they can’t know the only thing going through his head is, Go away! Get out of here before Aissa comes back!

  They obediently disappear. Luki slips the bag under the boulder, and stands a little longer. It feels good to be alone, and even better to know that he can make it happen. He’s so still that Aissa doesn’t see him as she sidles along the wall. She jumps in surprise.

  Luki feels as proud as if he’s snuck up on a wild deer. Aissa glares at him.

  ‘There’s a bag under the rock – for you, not the snake.’

  Aissa’s glare turns to suspicion.

  ‘It’s not a trick!’ Luki says, hurt. ‘It’s from my mother, for saving me.’

  But he knows that his mother’s bag of grapes is not enough. Tomorrow the days will start getting shorter. Winter will come, and Aissa can’t survive it under that rock.

  15

  THE COLD NORTH WIND

  Squint-Eye has been watching too. She’s afraid she’s made a terrible mistake in banning No-Name. Sometimes, seeing the girl slip by with a parade of cats behind her, wearing a cloak that looks suspiciously like fur, it seems that she’s actually given the cursed child her freedom.

  Squint-Eye has never tasted freedom. She’s never longed for it; ruling the other servants is all she wants. What could be better than the power to beat and punish the same way the older servants used to beat her? What’s more rewarding than seeing the fear in her fellows’ eyes?

  But she’s old now and slow to move, and last year she’d seen that the other servants weren’t as afraid of her as they should be. She’d needed something to show her authority.

  She had never hated No-Name. The child was a good worker; not talking back was a bonus – and Squint-Eye’s seen worse things than dragonflies in the kitchen. But the drama of banishment was exactly what she needed. Squint-Eye is feared again.

  The problem is that No-Name herself doesn’t seem to be as punished as she ought to be. She’s hungry and uncomfortable, but she’s free of the chores that the other servants complain of; she’s got a sort of home and a house snake to bless it. And she’s not as alone as she was in the middle of the servants; Squint-Eye can’t prove it, but she’s sure that someone is helping her. Worst of all, sometimes when she thinks no one can see her, No-Name stands like a free person. That’s the reason that Squint-Eye does hate her now.

  Without admitting that she was wrong, Squint-Eye needs to regain control over the banned girl. Her allies are the twins – who can follow and spy where she can’t – and the winter. She just needs to wait and the weather will do the rest.

  But this morning the north wind is blowing cold and sharp, and Squint-Eye is suddenly afraid that she might not survive the winter herself. It would be unbearable if she died before seeing No-Name beg to return.

  So she waits on her bench, pretending to doze in spite of the biting wind, until Aissa tries to slip past. Lashing out with her stick, furious when she misses, she shrieks, ‘No-Name child, you think you can go where you please! But you belong to the Lady the same as those cats – steal what’s hers, and it’s the cliff for you or anyone who helps you!’

  Aissa runs.

  ‘Half-One!’ Squint-Eye bellows. ‘Follow her! Don’t come back until you find her.’

  Half-One shivers. She’s never been as brave as her twin.

  ‘I’ll go,’ says Half-Two.

  Squint-Eye’s so angry now that her lips are frothing. No one is ever going to defy her again. ‘I called Half-One! And don’t think you can try your tricks with me: you’ll sit at my feet and not move till she’s gone!’

  Aissa is faster now

  than when she was a privy-girl

  and sometimes she wishes

  she could race against Nasta

  because she might win.

  Half-One is strong

  but not a runner

  and Aissa knows she can beat her.

  Sprinting to the sea path

  through dry chamomile flowers

  Aissa sees

  Nasta’s mother

  waiting at the top of the cliff

  like a trap

  and Aissa the rabbit

  running into it.

  So Aissa loops wide

  around the town

  and across the hills,

  but Half-One guesses,

  goes straight up the path

  and sees Aissa there –

  chest heaving, breath puffing –

  but Half-One is fresh

  and ready to chase

  so Aissa keeps running

  up to the forest

  because surely the twin

  will give up there.

  But Half-One

  has seen Squint-Eye’s rage

  and that is scarier than the forest,

  so she goes on

  though her heart is pounding

  harder than Aissa’s.

  Gasping and stumbling,

  chasing through trees

  to the mountain crags

  with their rocks and caves,

  until finally Aissa is faster,

  so far ahead

  she can’t hear Half-One follow

  and can sink to the ground

  to catch her breath.

  Then the wind

  catches it too –

  that cold north air

  swelling from breeze to gale,

  bringing rain

  that stings like ice.

  Aissa’s tunic

  is as drenched as if

  she had fallen in the sea

  while her fur cloak

  waits safe and dry

  at home.

/>   The wind howls so strong

  she can hardly walk,

  the rain lashes so hard

  she can hardly see,

  but she hears from somewhere

  goats bleating,

  ble-aah, ble-aahing

  and remembers Lanni the goatherd,

  ‘Our summer cave is nearby,

  if you need help.’

  Aissa doesn’t know how

  to ask for help

  but this might be

  the time to learn.

  She turns into the wind,

  pushing against it,

  pausing to listen

  for the goats to guide her

  till she smells the smoke

  of a good wood fire

  and sees the narrow mouth

  of a mountain cave

  with a gate of branches

  to stop the goats from leaving –

  and a barking dog

  with Lanni beside him.

  ‘Wolf girl!’ calls the goatherd,

  pushing the dog back

  and the gate open.

  ‘What are you doing?

  You’ll die out there,

  come in to the fire.’

  ‘No-Name!’ says Onyx.

  ‘We don’t want her here.’

  ‘Parsley’s rescuer,’ says Lanni.

  ‘If you don’t want her, you can go out.’

  So Onyx is quiet,

  while little Sammo

  shows Aissa his sling,

  ‘Next time,

  I’ll get the wolf like you did.’

  Aissa tries to smile

  but hasn’t had much practice

  or reason

  for smiling

  and her teeth are chattering too hard

  for her lips to move.

  Lanni pulls her

  close to the fire,

  throws a goat fleece on the ground

  and wraps another

  around trembling shoulders.

  ‘Sit and warm up;

  you are our guest.’

  As she warms,

  as her shaking stills,

  Aissa sees past the fire

  to the shadows of the cave –

  not a cave under the lip of a rock

  like hers –

  but half as big as the Hall,

  with room for the flock,

  bundles of green branches

  for them to eat through the storm,

  gates to hold them

  back from the fire,

  stacks of cheeses,

  bags of milk becoming yoghurt,

  and Lanni in the milking pen

  filling her wooden bowl

  with warm milk for Aissa.

  ‘Drink,’ she says, and Aissa does,

  then curls like Gold-Cat

  in the rug

  and sleeps,

  even though it’s still morning

  because it’s been a hard one

  and just for the moment

  she is warm and safe.

  When she wakes they feast her

  with cheese and grapes

  and barley cakes

  till Aissa’s belly

  feels round and full

  and a little bit sick.

  ‘You’re lucky,’ says Lanni,

  ‘When the storm stops

  we’ll be gone,

  it’s time to take the goats

  home for the winter –

  a day later,

  and all you’d have found

  would be a cold

  and empty cave.

  But I wish I knew

  why you were on the mountain alone,

  as if you were running

  from a lion.’

  Aissa nods yes,

  though Half-One is no lion.

  ‘Everyone chases No-Name,’ says Onyx.

  ‘We don’t,’ says his sister.

  ‘Because she chases wolves,’

  says Sammo.

  All the rest of the day,

  while wind and rain howl,

  Lanni plays her flute,

  the brothers sing,

  sometimes they dance

  around the fire

  and after a while

  Aissa does too,

  feet stamping

  in time with theirs,

  hands clapping

  just like theirs

  as if she is one of them.

  And she wishes the day

  would never end.

  Or even the night

  as they sleep by the fire

  wrapped in fleeces,

  with the smell of goats,

  stale milk and smoke –

  the safe smell of home

  before the raiders.

  So Aissa dreams and thinks,

  ‘I could stay here all winter

  and no one would know.’

  But the goats would be gone

  and so would the herders;

  Gold-Cat would miss her,

  and worst of all,

  Squint-Eye’s threat is real:

  a push off the cliff

  for anyone who takes her

  away from the Hall.

  The next morning, the wind is still strong and cold, but the rain is gone.

  ‘Time to go home for the winter,’ says Lanni.

  ‘Wolf girl could come with us,’ Sammo suggests.

  Lanni and Aissa shake their heads, even before Onyx says, ‘She belongs to the Lady.’

  Sammo is too excited about seeing his parents again to argue.

  Lanni milks the goats; they all drink as much as they want, and pour the rest into goatskin bags to be jolted into curds on the long walk home. The cheeses are packed into panniers strapped across four billy goats’ shoulders; they eat the last of the grapes and a barley cake each.

  Aissa folds her fleece to stack with the others but Lanni wraps it around her shoulders again. ‘It’s yours,’ she says, clasping Aissa’s hands between her own strong, warm ones. ‘Be well.’

  Little Sammo repeats it, and Onyx gives her a round hard cheese from his pack. It feels like gold in her hands, heavy and hard, and it only just fits into the pouch on her belt. Lanni smiles, but Aissa feels warm tears on her face and doesn’t know why.

  Then Onyx lifts the gate away from the mouth of the cave, the goats crowd out to graze their way across the mountain, the dog races around in hopes of chasing a stray . . . The herders are on their way home.

  Aissa stands watching them, hand on heart in thanks and goodbye, until they’re out of sight and she is chilled right through her new fleece.

  Down the mountain,

  sling in hand –

  if Aissa had a voice she would sing

  against the wind.

  Through the woods out to the meadow,

  she stops for wild grapes

  smashed and fallen in the storm

  and hears a sound like moaning

  further down the hill.

  Aissa creeps forward

  with a rock in her sling

  for whatever threatens,

  and finds a body in a puddle

  below a rock,

  as if it had skidded and fallen

  in the pouring rain.

  The body is Half-One

  and she looks dead

  though if she’s moaning

  she must be alive.

  She doesn’t hear Aissa

  clapping her hands

  and when Aissa touches her arm,

  the twin’s skin is as cold

  as the sharp north wind.

  Aissa has never touched

  Half-One before

  though she’s felt the slap of the hand

  often enough.

  Half-One doesn’t know

  it’s Aissa touching –

  she turns in trust

  as if to her sister.

  So Aissa grabs her shoulders,

  hauls her out of the puddle,

  and
rolls her in

  the goatherd’s fleece,

  because Half-One

  didn’t have time

  for a cloak either

  when she ran after Aissa.

  She is heavy and floppy,

  bigger than Aissa,

  but Aissa sits her up,

  and slides a smashed grape

  into her mouth.

  The girl’s eyes open,

  blank and confused;

  they don’t look

  like Half-One’s eyes

  and when Aissa tries

  to pull her to her feet,

  Half-One flops down

  and starts to cry.

  So Aissa pushes

  another grape in her mouth,

  then runs to the forest

  to find a branch for a crutch –

  and with that

  gets Half-One to her feet.

  Stumbling down the mountain

  together,

  Half-One with a stick in one hand

  and Aissa on the other.

  Once she looks at Aissa

  with a moment’s hatred

  as if she knows her,

  then the light

  goes out of her eyes

  and she sleepwalks again.

  Past the ancient oak,

  onto the singing path,

  but still a long way to go

  and the twin is weakening

  step by step,

  too weak to use her crutch,

  so Aissa is carrying her weight,

  pushing, dragging,

  with pain in her side

  and her own knees trembling –

  when Half-One falls again,

  sliding off Aissa’s shoulder,

  face flat to the ground,

  Aissa can’t lift her.

  Pushing, pulling,

  shoving, rolling;

  she doesn’t know why

  she doesn’t want Half-One to die,

  and the twin is so still,

  her head and arms so floppy

  when Aissa pulls her

  that maybe it’s too late.

  If Aissa is found

  with dead Half-One

  they’ll say it’s her fault

  and she’ll be thrown off the cliff.

  Maybe it is her fault,

  but she only meant to run away.

  Then Half-One groans

  and Aissa tries once more

  to lift her

  and can’t.

  She rolls her to her side

  so Half-One doesn’t drown

  in the mud of the path,

  tucks the goat skin around her

  and runs –

  she doesn’t know how

  or who she can tell –

  but she must find help

  or Half-One will die,

  for real this time.

  Luki! thinks Aissa. He will trust

  enough to follow –

  but now she sees Half-Two