A Woman's World

by Lynne Hill-Clark

  The boy continued on about the different plants for some time. Baya’s head spun with all the new information. She knew she would not be able to remember all he had told her, yet she tried to take it all in.

  A loud gong sounded. Baya’s heart dropped into her stomach. “That must mean it’s time for me to head back inside for my afternoon studies. I wish I could spend my days outside like you.” She looked into his eyes. “So are you going to tell me your name?”

  He appeared reluctant to pull his eyes away from hers but a boy shouldn’t be so bold as to stare at a girl he’d just met.

  “Vic … Vicaroy.”

  “Vicaroy. How unusual.” She rolled the name over in her mind. It was quite a mouthful for a name. “I like it.” She gave him a smile and a quick wave as she ran off. When she rounded the corner where the other girls would be, she looked back. He had not moved an inch. “Will I see you tomorrow?” she called back to him.

  Vicaroy nodded and continued to stare in her direction long after she was gone.

  Chapter 7

  After meeting Vicaroy, Baya felt like she was floating high in the purple sky. She’d succeeded in making a friend, despite Lua’s efforts to make sure no one talked to her. Baya’s loneliness eased, or at least it seemed manageable.

  The next day Baya made sure that she sat as close to the windows as possible. She studied the view until she spotted her home in the distance.

  She wondered what Rus and Bek were doing.

  Aga entered the room, bringing everyone to attention. Just like the previous day, Aga barely acknowledged her. Baya was not surprised this time, yet it still made her feel cold enough to shiver even though it was always warm in Una Sitka.

  Baya managed to get through the morning prayer better than she had the first day.

  “Today’s lesson will be a review for some of you,” Aga began. “But we have to make sure you all have the fundamental essentials before we can move on.”

  Baya stifled a moan. She knew it would be material she already knew and she would be bored to the point of going crazy — until the mid-day break where she could finally go outside. She prayed that she would get to see Vicaroy.

  Aga gracefully hung two long scrolls on the wall. Sure enough, they were ones Baya had read years ago. Baya’s gaze shifted to the window and she was soon lost in her own thoughts. At first, they were about Vicaroy and all the amazing plants in the garden.

  Soon, her thoughts drifted home. She hoped that Bek and Rus were doing okay without her. Hopefully Tash wasn’t bossing them around too much.

  Baya could almost hear Tash’s squeaky childish voice. “Bek, fetch me my favorite blanket,” or, “Bek, I need more coloring paints,” or “Bek, get me …” Tash’s needs were endless.

  “Get it yourself, you lazy brat,” Baya would yell. This would result in a wrestling match between the two girls. Being older, Baya could easily pin Tash to the ground.

  “Mom!”

  Aga would come running. “Baya! Stop that this instant and Bek, do as your sister says.”

  To make matters worse, Aga was always carrying on about Tash’s golden hair and her beautiful blue eyes — so rare. She was simply perfect … as far as Aga was concerned.

  However, Tash’s unique appearance only reminded Baya of the odd-looking man from the North who had visited them briefly a long time ago. In fact, the only other person Baya had ever seen with blues eyes and blond hair had been this stranger.

  These thoughts took Baya back to the time before her sister had been born. It was one of her most significant childhood memories — when he came to town. She didn’t remember his name, only how different he looked from the people in her household. He was tall, with pale hair that hung down past his shoulders. In fact, everything about him was pale. His skin looked sickly to young Baya. Even his eyes were pale, a watered-down shade of blue.

  What surprised Baya most was her mother’s reaction to the stranger. Aga’s high-browed serious demeanor changed whenever he was around. Her smile turned radiant and she laughed with ease.

  Before Baya knew it, the man was staying in their home.

  One night she curled up on Rus’s lap as she always did before bed. She sensed that something was wrong — terribly wrong. “What’s the matter? You don’t like that man either?”

  “Women will do as they please.” Rus’s eyes were open, yet he saw nothing.

  “Does this mean you will find a new wi, too?”

  Rus snorted. “Your mother would have me castrated or at least imprisoned for life if I did any such thing.”

  Baya didn’t know what castrated meant but she did understand what imprisoned meant. “That’s not fair.”

  “Life’s not fair … for men.” Rus tried unsuccessfully to smile down at her. “Besides I could never leave you and Bek.” Rus wrapped his arms around Baya and she snuggled into his chest.

  Rus was never quite the same after that and Baya had vowed that if she were ever to have a theo she would never do that to him.

  The pale stranger from the North left town as swiftly and mysteriously as he had arrived. Aga appeared not to be upset about his sudden departure. She also seemed oblivious to Rus’s diminished mood. He continued to meet her every need but without any of the kisses on the forehead or previous affections he had once shown her.

  Not long after the stranger left, Aga’s belly grew large and round once again. This time the midwife merrily announced, “Praise Ameris! It’s a girl.”

  “Thank the Mighty Goddess,” Aga breathed.

  After washing the baby and wrapping her in fresh blankets, Rus handed the crying infant to Baya and quickly exited the room.

  The baby was pale. Baya’s first thought was that she was sick. The newborn was completely bald and she stared up at Baya with blue eyes. It might as well have been an alien. “She can’t be one of us. She doesn’t look anything like us,” Baya said.

  “Let me see her.” Aga held out her arms for the baby.

  Baya gently handed the newborn to her mother. She watched Aga coo over the little bundle for a time. Baya’s heart was heavy and she didn’t understand why.

  Baya headed for the door as Aga said, “I will call her Tash.”

  Baya nodded solemnly and left her mother and sister alone.

  Baya vaguely heard her name, jolting her back into the present. Her head snapped to the front of the classroom. “I’m sorry. What?”

  Aga glared down at her. “I said, ‘Are you too good for my lesson, Baya?’”

  Giggles came from her classmates.

  Chapter 8

  All of Baya’s classmates stared at her, their eyes full of expectation.

  “No. It’s not that I’m too good for your class.” Baya’s heartbeat drummed in her ears. “It’s just …” She looked at her mother with pleading eyes. “I need to be challenged,” she implored her to understand.

  Aga crossed her arms and continued to glower. “I do not allow daydreaming in my class, Baya.”

  Baya’s body sagged like a water bladder that had just been punctured.

  A tight-lipped smile crossed Aga’s lips. She turned to the other girls. “Well I’m sure everyone is familiar enough with these scrolls. If, for some reason, you are not then you can study them on your own time. Now we will move on to writing. Everyone stand.”

  The girls instantly obeyed.

  Aga raised her arms — palms facing upward. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Faint yellow wisps floated from her hands, like smoke but more colorful. The substance spread out around the classroom.

  The sound of wood creaking filled the air. The bench in front of Baya began to rise. Looking around she saw that half the benches in the classroom were … growing!

  Aga lowered her arms and opened her eyes when the benches reached the desired height. Now there were perfect writing desks in front of the students.

  Baya bent down to examine what was now a desk in front of her. Each of the legs had been extended with an amber substance. I
t glistened like it had shiny metal flakes inside. “It’s lovely,” she whispered.

  She tapped on the new part of the leg with her fingernail. It was hard but it wasn’t stone or wood. It was something else entirely, a foreign substance. “Where does the new part of the leg come from?”

  Aga sat down as if she needed to rest. “It comes from inside us. We make it, perhaps it is like how we form a baby or how a spider produces endless webbing.”

  “I can’t wait until I can do that,” one of the girls whispered.

  Wow, Baya thought.

  “It’s called the Creation of Matter,” Aga said. “It’s one of the most advanced skills that you will master in the years to come. Well, most of you anyway. Now, take a blank scroll from the pile.”

  A number of girls moved toward the stack of parchment at the front of the room.

  “Not with your body. Using your feet is the easy way. Use your minds instead. Levitating objects with your thoughts is much more difficult. Baya, you first.”

  Baya’s stomach churned, even though she had done this before with other light objects. A scroll should be easy enough to summon. She took a deep breath.

  What if I can’t do it? Baya thought. People will say, “The daughter of Aga can’t even lift a parchment with her powers.”

  “Clear your mind,” Aga instructed.

  Baya’s gaze narrowed as she focused on the stack of paper. The room disappeared around her until only the parchment remained. The top piece shot toward Baya. She had to duck so that it wouldn’t hit her in the face.

  Chuckles rippled through the class.

  “Nice concentration. Lots of power. You’ll need to work on your control,” Aga lectured.

  Baya bent down to pick up her parchment by hand.

  “Who’s next?” Aga asked.

  “Me. Me.” Fay said. She gave a mocking glance to Baya before she turned to the stack. The paper gently floated into the air, crossed the room and landed squarely in front of Fay.

  “Very impressive, Fay. That is how it is done.” Aga said. “Next.”

  Some of the older girls lifted the scrolls to their new desks with apparent ease. Most of the students could lift the paper with their minds but Aga had to help a couple of them steer it toward their desks. Another girl sent pages flying all over the room. This brought about much laughter, while Aga re-stacked them into a neat pile by using her thoughts. One girl struggled to lift the paper at all. Baya had the feeling that Aga finally did it for her.

  “Which of the ancient texts should we copy?” Fay asked, once everyone had paper in front of them.

  “You can copy any text you choose or if you’d rather, you may write whatever you wish,” Aga said.

  Fay’s mouth fell open. “Pardon me, High Priestess, but are you saying that we can … write freely?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “We can write home or even a letter to friends?” another girl asked.

  Aga briefly glanced at Baya. “That’s what I’m saying but don’t grow accustomed to it.”

  Baya smiled. She was sure her mother was doing this for her. Aga was intentionally giving her a chance to write to Rus and Bek — completely changing the curriculum for Baya. Writing home should be done in one’s free time and studying the religious texts should be done in class. Yet here Aga was letting them write about whatever they desired.

  Fay giggled with the girl sitting next to her. They were most likely glad for the break from another boring lecture.

  In no time, Baya had the parchment covered. She thanked Rus and Bek for packing her stuff in her trunk. She described her new room and talked about how none of the girls liked her. She almost mentioned Vicaroy but stopped herself. The time flew by and she gave her parchment to her mother when they were dismissed for the mid-day meal. Not only would Aga have to deliver it to Rus and Bek but she would also have to read it to them.

  Well, Bek could read most of it but Aga didn’t know that. In the margins Baya had drawn a couple secret symbols that only Bek would understand. Their own “language.” Aga would think they were meaningless doodles but Bek would know better. Baya chuckled to herself, as she headed for the door.

  “Wait a minute, Baya,” Aga said.

  Baya reluctantly turned around. She was overly anxious to get outside — to see the garden boy. She sighed.

  “In your room tonight work on controlling your powers. You can do better.”

  “Okay. Yeah, sure.” Baya looked at the door. Most all the others had already left.

  “Baya, this is serious. You saw the girl today who could barely lift the paper?”

  Baya narrowed her eyes. “What about her?”

  “This is her second year and she will not make it.”

  “What do you mean, she won’t make it?”

  “In your seventh year, each of you will go through a series of trials.”

  Now she had Baya’s full attention. “What trials?”

  “They will test your abilities to the fullest and if you don’t pass you’re … out.”

  “Out?”

  “Yes and that girl will not even be allowed to go through the trials. She will never be a part of the priesthood, let alone become Unawi. I have known of girls whose skills seemed up to standard, yet they did not pass the tests. You can’t afford to be mediocre and survive.”

  “Survive?” Baya whispered.

  “I mean, graduate to a powerful position in society.” Aga searched Baya’s eyes for confirmation that she fully understood.

  That familiar pressure was back, threatening to crack Baya’s tiny base, like the one the palace sat atop. Baya swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Good. You must practice every spare second.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “You are to call me High Priestess.”

  Baya’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, High Priestess.”

  “Hang in there, Baya. Some lessons will be boring for you but you’ll learn many great things in the years to come.”

  Baya nodded. Her mother was always serious but this was a whole new level of intensity. Her knees felt week as she pondered what these trials might entail. Surely they were not life-threatening … were they?

  Chapter 9

  Baya stopped in the refectory to grab a quick snack before she headed to the garden. As she reached for a bag of nuts she overheard one of the girls saying, “Did you see Aga get mad at her own daughter — ‘Are you too good for my lesson, Baya?’”

  This was followed by a course of girlish laughter.

  “Yeah and Aga was so disappointed when Baya’s paper went flying across the room completely out of control.”

  More laughter.

  Baya knew that they were talking loudly on purpose, so that she was sure to hear them. She snatched the bag of nuts off the table and left. Her head swam with thoughts of failing tests and … what had really happened in class that morning? Baya didn’t think she had disappointed her mother. In fact, her mother may have changed the entire class for her.

  Baya’s brow was furrowed with worry as she stepped into the garden. She stopped in her tracks when an overwhelming feeling hit her. She could all but hear a voice, a woman’s voice. It whispered, None of that matters.

  She glanced back at the high palace doors and over her head to the monstrous building above. It didn’t matter what other people thought. And those petty girls certainly didn’t matter.

  Not even what your mother thinks matters. The thought popped into Baya’s head as if it, too, came from someone else. She was not completely convinced that this last part was true. Nevertheless, she felt free and the lovely garden helped her to forget her troubles. She could think more clearly out here.

  The wrinkle in her brow disappeared as she took in the fresh air. She set out at once for the other side of the garden, away from where the other students gathered.

  Vicaroy waited for her on a stone bench. Baya’s face brightened when she saw him. She ran to close the distance and plopped herself down beside
him.

  He sat with one arm across the back of the bench and rested a foot on his knee. Baya was glad to see that he seemed relaxed. He was not as guarded as he had been when she first tried to talk to him.

  “What’s your favorite flower?” Vicaroy said by way of greeting.

  “The … what’s it called. The wa …”

  “The waset. I knew it.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “It’s the flower you’re most interested in. You pause at the waset bush the longest and it’s the first flower you asked me about yesterday.”

  Had he been watching her — studying her every move? The thought made her cheeks hot. She was sure they turned a shade of purple.

  Vicaroy swiftly moved to the nearest waset bush. He reached for the large purple and blue flower.

  “No!” Baya almost shouted when she realized what he was doing.

  “What’s the matter?” he said.

  “You can’t pick one of Shema’s flowers.”

  Vicaroy chuckled. The sound of his happiness made Baya tingle inside.

  “That’s odd because I do it all the time,” he said.

  “You do?”

  “Sure. Azod and I harvest the purposeful plants and we make bouquets for Shema almost daily. Of course, she would be upset if someone picked all the waset flowers or dug up the entire bush. Heck, that would make me mad. But one flower doesn’t hurt anything.” He plucked the flower and handed it Baya. “You can use it to decorate your drab black walls.”

  That was exactly what Baya would do with every colorful flower he would give her.

  Months passed and Baya tolerated her studies. The only bright point in her life was her limited free time, which was spent outdoors with Vicaroy, not practicing, as her mother urged. He was the only thing that added any joy to her life, well that and the thought of the upcoming holiday.