by Jeff Wheeler
Her mother nodded, but said nothing more.
It was difficult for Tira to contain her enthusiasm and not share the wonderful dream she’d had with her mother, but she had promised the old man in her dream that she would not tell another living soul what they had discussed. Still, it was a secret that itched inside her to come out, and she worried she might let it slip if she were not careful.
“That is good, child,” her mother said as she removed a blackened kettle from a hook suspended above a smoldering cooking fire.
Tira opened her mouth to speak, then stopped herself. No, she could not tell her secret, but she really, really wanted to.
Her mother stared at her for a long moment, then nodded again and filled two cups resting on the thick tabletop. Steam rose from the cups and drifted toward the ceiling. Tira scooted the cup closer and inhaled, to savor the sharp, grassy aroma of the tea. She then swirled the liquid in her cup and watched as it climbed the sides, coming ever closer to spilling out over the rim. But she would not let it spill. To do so would be to waste something precious. The steam alone was what her father had once called “the god’s share,” and to spill even a drop of the tea would be seen as an insult to them. Plus, the water used to make the tea was nearly half their combined ration for the day, so she stopped when the swirling liquid threatened to spill out. She waited for it to settle and then sipped it slowly, letting the hot water and tangy herbs soothe her parched throat.
The entire village’s water supply was running low, and this cycle was shaping up to be even worse than the last. But, after today’s Choosing, it would all change, and Tira knew she would be the one responsible for changing it. Her dream had told her so. Though she wasn’t completely sure. She also had a nagging fear at the back of her mind. What if her dream was only that? A dream. She had dreamed of her father and brothers before. She had seen them alive and healthy and happy even though they were now all dead. And she had dreamed of many other places she could go where there was no pain or sorrow or thirst.
So . . .
“Mother,” she asked hesitantly, “there are so few of us left, do you think they will even allow a Choosing to take place today?”
“It is true, little one. This cycle has not been good to us or our village.” Her mother quickly looked away, staring at the light leaking through the doorway. Her face was as black as a starless night, and the creases lining her skin went deep, like newly furrowed earth waiting for seed. Only the whites of her eyes stood out, and they shone brightly in the morning light. In them, Tira could sense the unease that was present, but not the cause of it.
Sighing, her mother rose and made a quick meal of grain and sun-dried lizard meat and set it before Tira with a half smile on her lips, as if apologizing for the meagerness of it all.
“Don’t you want some too?” Tira asked as she held up a strip of the stringy dried meat.
“I am not hungry, child.”
Tira knew that was a lie. Her mother was thin and wasting away. Her bones even showed when she moved.
“Please, Mother. Have something. This is too much for me to eat. There is plenty for the both of us.”
“No, child. You will need all your strength today.”
Tira’s mother got up to return her clay teacup to the shelf.
“But I’m not hungry. I’m too excited to eat.”
“No, you must eat. Please, little one.”
Even though Tira did not want to eat in front of her mother, she did as she was told, but only managed to finish half.
“Mother, please eat the rest, I cannot finish it all.”
Her mother smiled back. “You must.”
“I can’t. I’ll be sick to my stomach if I eat that much.”
Tira pushed the remains of her meal in front of her mother. “Please, Mother. For me? Eat?”
The lines on her mother’s face cracked like dried mud, and hints of her white teeth showed. “Okay, child. Go change, we will need to leave soon, or we will be late.”
Tira returned to her room to dress. She had trouble deciding which of her two outfits she should wear. Both were threadbare and had been mended so many times that there were more patches and sewing thread than original garment. Neither seemed appropriate for a Choosing ceremony, not that she had been allowed to see one yet.
When she returned, her mother was waiting for her, ready to travel.
“I am ready, Mother. You did eat, yes?”
Her mother nodded once but did not look at her. “You are a very special child, dear. I do not say that often enough.”
The statement puzzled Tira, but she was not about to ask her mother what was meant by it.
“I love you, Mother,” Tira said.
“And I, you, child.”
Her mother said nothing else as she lifted the cloth covering the doorway and let in the bright light of morning.
Tira raised her head scarf and stepped outside their dwelling. There were many other buildings around her. Most were lined with fissures and cracks and would need to be repaired when the rains finally came. The thatched roofs were bone-dry as well and also suffering. They had not been repaired in many cycles because not enough of the tall grasses that had once grown in the plains to the north had become tall enough to replace them.
The rains as far back as Tira could remember had been weak and had been growing weaker with each passing cycle. There was talk from the elders, of times when the rains would continue for many days, but all that Tira had ever seen were the short bursts of rainfall that occurred after her mother had returned from a Choosing.
This cycle she knew would be different, and she wanted to tell everyone that she was about to meet all about it, but she knew that she couldn’t. If she did, then her dream would not come true.
The searing heat of the day was already rising as she and her mother started toward the sacred circle a good distance to the east. The heat would soon become oppressive, and it would take most of the morning to get there. The tea that she had consumed had done little to slake her thirst, and it was going to get even worse as they walked through the mountain pass, where the sides of the rock faces trapped and reflected the heat.
“Can we go now? It is a long way to go, but I am excited to finally see the sacred circle.”
“Are you sure that you are ready?”
“Yes, I am. I am sure. I have waited all my life to see it. And, Mother, I will be the one they choose this cycle. I know it.”
“Your assurance frightens me, Daughter.”
Tira’s hand went to her mouth when she realized she’d almost let her secret slip. Her mother stopped and kneeled down in the dirt before her and pulled her hands down and gazed into her eyes for some time. Her mother was old and worn, but she still had beautiful green eyes flecked with gold. Tira had taken comfort in those eyes after she had been so hurt by her father’s and brothers’ deaths.
“Daughter, listen to me. I beg of you. Do not stand out from the others today. I do not wish to see you become the Chosen One.”
“But, Mother, it is a great honor. Don’t you want me to go to the place without thirst?”
Her mother stood. She paused to lick her lips. “No, I do not wish to see it.”
“Why?” Tira asked.
Her mother looked away and hid her face, but not before Tira could see the worry in her eyes. Tira nodded slowly, still not understanding her mother’s unease. With the nagging question on her mind, she pulled her head scarf down to cover her face and fell into step beside her mother.
The sun was already high in the sky when they reached the sacred circle. Heat waves shimmered off the surrounding mountains and blurred the white stone behind the valley. Tira peered down at the great stone floor. Pillars rose from it, ringing the entire perimeter. Each of the stone pillars was many times taller than she was, and most appeared as if they had been snapped off by some giant’s hand. The basin at the lowest point was covered with what looked to be a single piece of stone, swept clean of dust and sa
nd. In the very center of it sat a single rectangular slab of rock that was surrounded by a series of circles carved into the floor and radiating outward.
This was the first time she had been allowed to see the sacred circle. She had once tried to sneak past the guards to get a glimpse of it, but they had caught her, and she’d been scolded and turned away. What she saw now was far beyond what she had been expecting. She’d seen nothing like it, not even in her dreams.
“Who made this, Mother? Has it always been here?”
“It has, child. As to who created it, I do not know. The elders say the gods, but I do not believe that is true.”
“Why?”
Her mother only shook her head and sighed.
Tira took in everything she could about the mysterious place as she followed her mother down into the valley. The place felt ancient to her, perhaps even as old as the gods. Maybe, she thought, it could have been there when there were once . . . trees?
Others from the village stepped aside to let her and her mother pass, knowing that today, Tira was a candidate for the Choosing ceremony. Some villagers bowed. Some grinned beneath their head scarves of faded red and blue and orange fabric. Tira smiled back at them all, regardless of what look they gave her, hoping her good cheer would help her gain the support of the village when the time finally came.
Her mother took her by the hand and held it gently in hers. She spoke softly, “Go now, child. Answer truthfully, but know that I wish for you to stay with me and not go to the place without thirst.”
Tira nodded. Her mother turned away and separated from her hesitantly.
“I will not fail us, Mother. I will be the Chosen One today. You will see.”
Walking gracefully with her head held high, Tira went to the center of the concentric circles. Two large men, both slick and shiny from the oils that coated them, lifted her onto the flat surface of the stone in the middle of the valley. There were two other girls already on the stone. Both were Tira’s friends—Cass and Ulra. But Tira knew that only one of them would be selected, and she was certain that she would be the one they chose.
Elder Quin, the leader of the village, entered the stone circle dressed in a flowing purple robe laced with golden threads. He was a funny-looking man, Tira had often thought. His head looked just like the puffy pink flower that bloomed in the plains outside the village. Some of the other children used to make fun of him in private, knowing if they were ever caught, their punishment would be severe. Tira never made fun of him. Not because she was worried about being punished, but because people can’t always help how they look.
The village leader turned to face the three girls on the flat stone. “Remove your head scarves so that the gods above may gaze upon your faces.”
Tira was nervous about removing her covering. Showing one’s face in public was frowned upon, but she had been instructed to do so by the most prestigious village elder, so she had to comply.
She tentatively removed her head scarf, as did the other two girls. Without the bit of faded cloth in place, she felt almost naked, and the hot sun began to prickle her like a thousand tiny thorns.
Elder Quin stepped before the first girl, Cass.
“Young child, how old are you this day?”
Cass replied, “I’m nearly thirteen cycles, Elder Quin.”
He bobbed his head once. “Who is it that brings us life?”
She answered without hesitation. “Our mothers and fathers, Elder Quin.”
He did not react and moved on to Ulra.
“How old are you?”
“I’m nearly thirteen cycles, as well,” Ulra said, then quickly looked down and added, “Elder Quin.”
“Who is it that brings us life?”
She paused to consider, then said, “The sun, Elder Quin, the sun brings us life. That and the rains, yes, the rains bring us life as well.”
Elder Quin mumbled something under his breath and moved to stand in front of Tira. She wanted to shrink away, suddenly feeling wholly inferior to the other two girls. A sharp fear raced through her, tickling her spine. She was almost a cycle younger than both of the other girls and was certain now that she was not nearly as pretty as they were. She also stood almost a full head shorter than they did. And her skin was not nearly as smooth. And her hair was too curly. And her nose was too large.
She was suddenly very self-conscious. How could she have ever thought that she would be the Chosen One? She had been foolish for believing so or that she could ever please the gods.
She trembled inside, but stood firm.
“How old are you, child?”
“I am twelve cycles, Elder Quin,” she said in as level a tone as she could.
Maybe if she just pretended that she was not afraid, it would convince them just how unafraid she could be. Maybe if she acted strong, that would make her stronger inside.
“Who is it that brings us life, little one?”
Tira’s mind stumbled and her mouth went dry and her tongue did not seem to want to work. She was certain the words would not come out right and was too afraid to say anything at all. But, she also did not know what she could possibly say that would impress Elder Quin. She’d had far more time than the others to prepare her answer. Still, nothing came to mind. Nothing at all.
Elder Quin did not appear to have appreciated the other girls’ answers, so the answer he sought to his question had to be something different from what had been said so far.
What if she was wrong here too? What if one of her friends had answered correctly?
She was now so confused that she looked to her mother for support, but that did not help either. She closed her eyes and thought of her dream and the ancient figure in it, trying to recall the inner warmth she had felt in that magical place. But even that had not prepared her for this. The old man had only told her she would be selected to go to the land without thirst. He had not told her what she needed to say to get there.
She opened her eyes and saw Elder Quin. His eyes said everything. They were large and round and white with deep black pupils. And they were now scowling at her, which made her search for an answer even more difficult. She simply could not think of anything that he might wish to hear.
He broke eye contact with her and began to move back to Cass.
Then it came to her.
Tira stumbled over her words, but spoke directly from the heart, “The gods, Elder Quin. The gods bring us life.”
She wanted to cover her mouth. She wanted to take the words back. It certainly was not the right answer. It couldn’t be. She was so sure of it.
But . . . it had to be.
Elder Quin briefly nodded and locked his gaze on her again. She held it and tried not to blink. Had he nodded for the others? Maybe she had just insulted him? Maybe she had insulted the gods? Renewed panic welled up inside her and she stopped breathing.
No . . . she was right and she knew it. She had spoken from the heart and had said what she truly believed. She relaxed and stood as tall and straight as she possibly could.
Elder Quin broke away again and turned on his heel, purple robe swishing in the air behind him. Tira watched as he walked across the concentric stone circles to meet with the other assembled elders of the village seated nearby.
After a few minutes of hushed conversation, Elder Quin returned to stand before the three girls.
“Thank you all,” he said, addressing all three at once. “Your obligations for this cycle have been fulfilled. The choice has been made.”
He reached up and took the hand of the girl standing farthest from Tira.
Tira’s heart dropped in her chest. She readjusted herself on the stone, feeling the ancient strength of it under her feet. No, it couldn’t be her. Not Cass.
Elder Quin then shook his head no. Cass’s smile vanished in an instant, and two men stepped forward to help her down from the raised stone.
Tira scrunched her toes against her sandals in anticipation. She looked at the crowd, searching for he
r mother. When she located her, she smiled, but her mother did not smile back. Instead, her mother was holding up both hands in front of her face as if she were too afraid to see what might happen next. That puzzled Tira. Usually her mother was so strong, so self-assured.
Don’t be afraid, Mother, Tira wanted to say, I will bring the rains. I will save us.
Elder Quin stepped in front of Tira next. She looked straight at the man, holding his gaze and not blinking, using the strength she’d learned from her mother, from her father, and from her brothers. She had to be strong enough for them all. She had to be strong enough to save the entire village.
But deep inside, she held an even greater fear. If she were not selected this cycle, she could never again participate in another Choosing ceremony. She was only allowed this one and only chance.
Her belly rumbled, and she did her best to ignore it.
Then she noticed the girl next to her raise her head. From the corner of her eye, Tira saw her mother’s hands drop. She was no longer holding them in front of her face.
Through it all, Tira continued to hold Elder Quin’s penetrating gaze and did not waver.
He blinked once and moved away from her to stand in front of the remaining girl.
Panic and fear raced through Tira. No! No! It wasn’t right! She should . . . She knew . . . She would—
She held still, chin raised.
“No, child,” Elder Quin said to Ulra as he reached to take her by the hand. The girl let out a deflating breath, and the two men helped her down from the stone.
Yes!
Tira beamed brightly. She had won. She was going to be the Chosen One. She was going to the place without thirst.
Elder Quin raised his hands to the sky, palms held upward.
“The choice,” he bellowed, “has been made!”
Tira let her gaze roam the crowd. They simultaneously broke into a cheer, fists going high in the air all at once. They were cheering for her. She wanted to take a moment and bask in the glory, but when she glanced to where her mother had been standing only moments ago, her mother was no longer there.
“It will be all right, Mother,” she whispered. “I will make everything better. I will bring the rains. I will not falter.”
