A Woman's World

by Lynne Hill-Clark

  Baya stared wide-eyed at the creature. She didn’t want to break the connection.

  Doba made the clicking noise again and was completely distracted from his previous outburst. Oh, that feels good! Please don’t stop, he said or thought — that’s what Baya heard anyway.

  But Shema did stop scratching his chin. “Who’s next? Doba is quite intelligent, he will change his thoughts for each of you, so you can all practice reading them.”

  Baya wanted to take the creature in her arms, long scaly body and all, and steal him away. All he wanted was to be free to find a mate. Although Baya had no idea why that was so important. Maybe he was lonely and just wanted a friend — someone like him. Shema knew that the poor thing hated being stuck on her shoulder all the time and yet she didn’t care.

  Baya reluctantly took her seat and she scowled at Shema as the next girl tried to read Doba’s thoughts. There must be a way to free him. She wondered if she could talk to him in return. What about other animals? Could she talk to them as well? Animals were not easy to come by on the island. Shema’s pet was rare. The only creatures that remained were the ones humans ate. Maybe Baya didn’t want to know what they were thinking, after all.

  At thirteen, Baya had grown taller than most of the other girls but she still had no curves to her thin frame. At the morning meal mistresses were given an infusion, the women’s brew. This was a tea that females drank every morning once they came of age. Baya was still served milk with her meal, the same as a couple of new eleven-year-olds.

  The women’s brew contained special herbs that prevented the Great Goddess from forming a new life inside a woman. Unawi were to drink this tea every morning until their reign ended. Their duty was to serve Ameris and the people. They could not afford to be distracted by children of their own.

  Young mistresses could not risk having a child, as that disqualified them from being in the running for Unawi. So the girls were careful to drink the infusion each day.

  Fay eyed Baya’s milk. “I wonder when you’ll finally be given the women’s brew.”

  “Maybe when she’s eighteen,” another girl offered.

  “Or maybe never. You might be shapeless and scrawny your whole life.” Fay and her friends laughed.

  Baya slammed her cup down. Her chair screeched across the stone floor as she stood to leave the refectory.

  “Oh, come on Baya. Have a little fun. We’re just messing with you,” Fay called after her.

  And they wonder why I don’t want to be their friend, Baya thought.

  The mistresses were not only taught how to use and control their powers. As the future leaders of Pathins, they were also taught about the politics of the island. Shema looked weary as she explained to her students the troubles of the land.

  “Overpopulation is the greatest problem that we face today,” Shema began.

  One of the younger girls raised her hand.

  Shema nodded for her to speak.

  “The island doesn’t seem crowded to me. There’s lots of wide-open land that doesn’t have any people living on it.”

  “That is correct. The island is not completely covered with people. What is meant by overpopulation is that all fertile farmlands, vast as they may seem, are straining to produce enough food for the population that we do have.” Shema sighed. “It takes a lot of land to sustain people.”

  Shema began to pace in front of the class. “This is a problem unique to this time. In the past, this vast island had always provided more than enough for us. Over the past couple of decades we have seen an increase in the number of baby boys who are thrown into the sea. Some argue that this is fitting, as that is where men came from.” Shema shook her head in despair before continuing.

  “Less fortunate families are finding it difficult to feed their daughters — let alone their boys. Boys are too much of a bane for a poor family, so they are given back to Ameris — to the sea from where they came.”

  Baya thought back to when Bek was a tiny baby in her arms. Boys were being killed! The thought made her breakfast rise from her stomach and catch in her throat. Aga always treated Bek as if he were a burden, even though she could easily afford to house and feed him.

  What if Mother had been poor? Baya shivered at the thought. Her heart felt like a stone in her chest — an intruder inside her body. Killing babies was wrong, no matter if they were boys or girls. Ameris wouldn’t give them to women if she wanted them dead.

  Baya looked at Fay who appeared bored. Fay had stopped listening. She obviously didn’t care about baby boys so she had let her mind wander.

  “Excuse me Madam Unawi,” Baya raised her hand.

  Shema nodded, indicating she could speak.

  “What’s being done about overcrowding?”

  “Every year overpopulation becomes more of a problem,” Shema said. “More people go hungry and more babies die. So a couple of years back I passed a law that only the high priestesses are allowed to have children. I presented this law with a rather clever speech that Aga helped me compose. I stated that this new law was an honor for the women of Pathins, as they were to become like the Unawi — they too were to remain childless in service to the Goddess.”

  Baya had never seen Shema look so full of sorrow.

  “Yet,” Shema went on, “babies continued to be born. So the women’s brew is put into every watering well across Pathins, except for the royal wells here, at the palace. If a priestess wishes to have a child then she is to drink only from my wells.”

  Shema tried, unsuccessfully, to smile. “As you all know, I myself and you mistresses are given our tea each morning to prevent pregnancy.”

  “So this worked?” Baya asked. “Putting the brew in the water has stopped women from having children.”

  “Yes … Well, we thought this would solve the problem and in a way, I suppose it has. Women are no longer giving birth. However, the masses are not pleased — the desire to have a daughter is a strong one. Believe me I know…” Shema scowled at the floor. “For the first time in the long history of this island we are worried about women rebelling.”

  Baya’s mind ran away with her thoughts. The land that Ameris had given them, the Holy Land of Plenty, was no longer enough.

  Chapter 12

  Vicaroy learned how to do many unconventional things. Beyond the miracle of being a boy who could start a fire, he made other discoveries as well. His love of the water drove him to invent a long narrow raft. He could only stand on it as he paddled around, never straying far from the beach.

  Baya had played around on it but was not very good at keeping her balance. After falling in the water several times, she would give up and use it as a floatation device while she swam.

  Vicaroy wanted to make something that Baya could ride in as well, so he eventually abandoned the crude raft and went to work building a canoe, which could easily hold four people.

  Baya didn’t think his idea of a larger boat would work. Then again — back in Ameris’s day — they’d had ships that could carry many people and lots of cargo. It took several sails and many men with oars to move them. But the knowledge of how to build such a vessel had been lost for a thousand years. Vicaroy had to essentially reinvent his contraptions.

  Baya and Vicaroy spent the majority of their free time in a secluded cove. The place was not easy to reach. First they had to head down the well-worn path from the palace to the popular beachfront below. When it was hot and sunny — which was common in Una Sitka — the long beach would usually be crowded. The mistresses and even the high priestesses would enjoy themselves in the water and soak up the sun whenever their busy lives permitted.

  At the east end of the beach rose a small mountain. What most people didn’t know was that there was a trail of sorts leading up and over the mountain. The trail could only be found if you knew precisely what you were looking for. It was a serious hike, so few people ventured there — they would much rather relax on the beach. But not Baya and Vicaroy.

  A large rocky wa
ll jutted out into the sea. This prevented people from swimming to the cove on the other side of the mountain. As boats were not allowed on the island, this made walking the only way to reach the cove. There was no clear or easy path through the mountain’s thick foliage, which also kept people from wandering over.

  Baya and Vicaroy covered the trailhead with leafy branches. He made wooden ladders held together with twine which they used to get over some of the steepest rock faces. When they left the cove they were careful to hide the ladders under shrubs.

  When Vicaroy had first shown his hideaway to Baya, she had panted breathlessly as she climbed over the last rocky wall. She found herself overlooking a wondrous sight.

  Below was a small crescent-moon-shaped beach surrounded by mountains. Water fell over steep rocks and settled into a glistening pool. This was to become their favorite swimming hole, as the fresh water was preferable to the salty seawater.

  On the far side of the cove sat a large cave. They would spend their time here when it rained. And this was where Vicaroy created and hid his forbidden inventions. Like the cove, the cave was not easy to reach. It required a difficult climb up a rock face that was twice the height of Vicaroy. After Baya almost fell trying to climb to the cave, he built a ladder for her.

  Unlike Baya, who had precious little free time, Vicaroy spent every spare second at sea. But on her days off, she would always join him. The canoe allowed them to venture even farther from the land. Still, they didn’t go too far out of the cove for fear of someone seeing the clandestine boat.

  Baya often marveled at how Vicaroy’s brain worked, as he also crafted other things. One day he covered Baya’s eyes with his hands and guided her into the cave.

  When he removed his hands, Baya blinked. Leaning against the rock wall was a long smooth piece of wood with a sharp stone secured tightly to one end with twine. It resembled a crude version of a spear from Ameris’s scrolls.

  Her brow creased. “What do you need with that?”

  “For protection, I guess. And it’s fun.”

  “Protection from what?”

  Ever since the time of the first Unawi, Pathins had been peaceful. Weapons of any kind had been banned for centuries. Physical violence was rare and the perpetrators were imprisoned at once. If it was the even-more-rare case of a man hitting a woman, he would be locked away for life. Baya had never heard of such a case occurring, not in her lifetime anyway.

  Not to mention, there were no predatory animals on the island. So what could Vicaroy possibly want with such a weapon? Sure, before Ameris created Pathins the world was violent. Beasts were a constant threat and there were even wars between humans.

  The scrolls spoke of advanced weapons including long knives called swords. Any such weapons had long since been melted down into goblets or other useful metal objects. Thankfully, they had no need for such armaments.

  “How is it fun?” Baya asked.

  “Watch.” Vicaroy grabbed the spear and headed out of the cave. He threw the weapon as hard as he could at a tree trunk. The spear narrowly missed the tree. “Target practice.”

  Baya laughed. “Well, you need the practice.”

  “I’ve made something even better.” From the back of the cave he retrieved an object wrapped in a large cloth. He uncovered a bow and two arrows. They were the most basic design. The bow was a string fastened to either end of a tree branch. The arrows each consisted of a stick with a whittled tip. Feathers were fastened to the other end.

  Like Vicaroy’s water-going vessels, these too were forbidden on the island and viewed as the work of pure evil. Any inventions from men were seen as insignificant compared to the powers of women. However, the weapons were the most forbidden thing on the island — relics from a violent past, proof of man’s destructive and barbaric nature.

  “I hate to think of what would happen if we were caught with these,” Baya said.

  “No one will find them here.” Vicaroy pulled the bow back and aimed an arrow at the tree. It missed by at least an arm’s length. He shot the second one and it hit its mark yet bounced off the tree trunk, falling harmlessly to the ground.

  “Isn’t it supposed to stick into the tree?” Baya asked.

  Vicaroy studied the bow. “I need to make the string tighter.”

  “How will that help?”

  “It should add more force behind the arrow when I let it go. I couldn’t get the bowstring any tighter by myself but with your help … I’ll bend the branch as far back as I can then you refasten the string.”

  Baya didn’t fully understand why the string needed to be tighter but she was glad to help. She strained to secure the string as he had instructed, while he forced the branch to bend as much as possible without it snapping in two.

  Vicaroy tried again. It took several more attempts before he finally hit the tree again, and this time the arrow stuck.

  “It worked! You were right.” Baya pursed her lips in concentration. “You know, sometimes I think boys are smarter than girls.”

  He laughed. “Don’t let anyone else hear you say that.” He readied another arrow. “It’s not that we’re smarter. When it comes to studies and the like we don’t stand a chance. Girls are way smarter.”

  “It’s not men’s fault that they’re not allowed to be educated. If they were, boys would be as smart as girls. I’ve seen it with my brother.”

  Vicaroy frowned. “I don’t know about that.” He let the arrow fly. “I think it’s just that we understand some basic things about how the world works, that’s all.”

  Baya thought about it. “Hmm, maybe. Like a different type of intelligence. Let me try.” Baya’s arm shook as she struggled to pull the bowstring back.

  Vicaroy helped her. “And we’re also stronger,” he whispered in her ear.

  Baya let go of the string. It landed in the water. Vicaroy bent over with laughter and Baya found herself rolling on the ground laughing uncontrollably.

  “You see? It’s not as easy as it looks,” Vicaroy said.

  They practiced with the bow and spear for the rest of the day.

  “You’re right. It is fun,” Baya said, as they hid the weapons in the cave. Baya was determined to grow strong enough to shoot the bow on her own and actually hit the intended mark.

  They covered up any signs that they had been there and headed home for the night.

  Chapter 13

  Baya did grow stronger — not only her body but her powers as well. She and Vicaroy became quite skilled with the bow and spear. It was their way of rebelling against the world. Their illicit fun. This kept their friendship exciting and it was a great way to pass the time — boating, throwing spears and shooting a bow in their secret cove. Baya found ways to hone her powers during these times. She felt she at least owed her mother that much. Aga had never let up when it came to pushing Baya to do better.

  If she made a bad shot or throw, she would focus on the arrow or the spear and lead it toward the target with her mind.

  “Hey! That’s cheating,” Vicaroy would claim.

  “At least I didn’t move your arrow away from the target.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Baya gave him a mischievous smile. Yet she never messed with his arrow. She wanted him to become skilled at using the bow. Despite his best efforts, Vicaroy was never able to beat her at target practice, not with her powers as a backup.

  When Baya was fifteen it was time for Tash to join the Unawi’s school. Fay was towering over Tash when Baya came into the mistresses’ common room. Baya had been in the garden with Vicaroy for as long as possible, of course. She hardly ever returned until she absolutely had to, which was just before the palace doors were sealed shut for the night.

  “Look what we have here, another one of Aga’s daughters,” Fay was saying.

  Baya stood behind Tash. “Leave her alone, Fay.”

  Tash turned to look at Baya with wide eyes.

  Baya figured that that was how scared she must have looked on her first
day.

  “If you two are truly sisters, how come you look so different?” Fay asked.

  “Tash is Aga’s child. I was there the day she was born.” Baya glared at Fay.

  “Then that must mean you’re the one who’s not Aga’s real daughter. I mean, think about it, Baya. You’re tall and you have dark skin. She’s short, even for an eleven-year-old and where did her yellow hair come from? Tash is nothing like you and you saw her born so that can only mean one thing. You’re adopted.”

  “We’re both Aga’s so give it up, Fay,” Baya snapped.

  Fay turned toward her room. “Fine. I’m just saying, you might want to ask Aga about who your real mother is.” Fay disappeared into her room.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me,” Tash gushed.

  Baya sighed and headed for her room as well. “Would someone please show Tash to her room?”

  “Wait, Baya. Could that be true, you know, what that girl said?”

  “No.” Baya stopped walking. “That’s just what Fay does, she tries to make you doubt everything. She plays mind games like that. Lesson number one, ignore everything that girl says.”

  “So we are sisters, right?”

  “Yeah.” Baya headed for her room.

  Tash’s shoulders slumped. As always, she had hoped for a warmer reunion with her big sister. Tash was sure that once it was only Baya and her in school together they would finally become close. After all, Bek and Tash had become closer when it was just the two of them at home.

  A couple of the younger girls stepped forward, eager to show Tash to her new room.

  Baya was hard at work, practicing her transformation skills. They didn’t learn this skill until they were sixteen but Aga had shown her the basics and told her to practice every night. It was one of the most difficult powers to use; often taking girls a year or two to master.

  Baya focused with all her might on the wooden carving of a bird on her desk. She allowed only images of fish to flow into her mind. She frowned at the carving — it was still a bird, no fish in sight.