There were three clear parts to the city. There was an agricultural section, with terraces cut into the side of the mountain in long, flat steps. There was a large residential area filled with the people’s thatched homes. And there was a sacred sector, a complex of temples and palaces, the tallest clearly the emperor’s home here in the city. Was he inside, resting from the long journey? Perhaps he was thinking about the Inti Raymi festival, which was to take place beginning the next evening.
The people, they were everywhere. Priests walked about the temples, most of them wearing the golden-yellow feathers that showed their high status. A group of Sun Maidens passed by, moving as one, so beautiful and delicate, they seemed not to walk so much as float. This made me think of Chasca. Perhaps I would see her soon. Then I sighted several noblemen in royal clothing. They sat together on the ground, and two dwarves came over and served them something. I had never seen a dwarf before, but I knew they were special people, sent to the earth marked for this sacred life of duty to the nobility.
Clouds drifted in and out among the temples and structures as if they were trying not to disturb the quiet peace of this place. Birds swooped just below me, playfully dipping and then rising on the air currents. I watched as one soared higher and higher. To fly alongside would be a journey to Beyond, but I remained solidly on the earth.
Here is what I want you to know of Sacred Sun City. Power moved in this place. I could hear it crackling within my head and whispering with its forever-voice in the wind. I could feel it radiating out of the very rocks and earth. Ancestors and spirits dwelled everywhere, pleased to be within the city’s walls. Welcome. I have been waiting for you, the city said to me. And somewhere nearby, the Sacred Rock sat. I could feel it pulsing with energy, calling out to me.
Tomorrow morning, I told it in my mind. Tomorrow morning I will come to you to be healed and made whole.
22
Willka Rumi
Sacred Rock
I claimed a small, empty wasi on the outskirts of the residential area and placed my pack and blankets within. I didn’t spend any time arranging my temporary home. Instead, I wandered throughout the city with the Handsome One riding proudly on my shoulder. The Apurimac River, the Great Speaker, gurgled far below along the base of Machu Picchu mountain. From such a distance, the river looked like a thin band of silver or a sparkling snake that slithered its way across the land. Evergreen trees grew along the sides of the surrounding mountains, but the forest of the valley below appeared no larger than bits of lichen and twigs.
My wanderings took me to a place near the Sacred Rock. It is just around that bend, I was told. But I already knew that. I could feel its presence. However, I chose not to go to it. An understanding deep within me told me I wasn’t to meet the rock until sunrise. To turn and walk away was not easy. The pull of the Sacred Rock was strong. It breathed itself into my being and held on to my heart with a simple, insistent force.
I kept to myself throughout the day but tried to see all. The Paqo had once told me, the more one was aware of the outer world, the more one was aware of the inner world. I wished to know both. I saw enormous puma and condor statues carved from solid rock. Small cochas, perfect circles cut into the stone base of the city, held pools of still water that reflected the sky above. It was an odd sensation, to stare down at one’s feet and see moving clouds.
There were fewer signs of the difficult times here in Sacred Sun City. Of course the emperor would be sure to care for so powerful a place. Its precious fields would be watered with the last drops gathered. Its priests and nobles would be fed the last grains of the storehouses.
I watched llamas in the fields chewing grass. A shepherd boy who reminded me of the handsome Acoynapa of Uncle Turu’s story played a flute to the grazing animals. The sound lifted up to the skies in a way that filled me with a simple sadness. A group of nobles sat and debated scholarly issues. Another group of men toiled in a quarry, extracting large rocks. Twice I saw Sun Maidens walking about in pairs, but I didn’t spy my sister, and I was afraid to approach them and ask where she might be.
I didn’t eat. I wanted to approach the Sacred Rock light and empty.
Twilight fell quickly. Activity stopped as the people ended the day’s work. I made my way back to the wasi and unpacked the few items I had brought. I decided to use my favorite wool blanket, the beautiful red one with weavings of the sun and the birds, as the hanging for the entrance. I preferred this blanket for sleeping, but at some point during the day I had realized I would not be sleeping this night. Perhaps it was a certain nervousness that kept my heart beating slightly faster than normal. Perhaps it was the energy of the city. But when the heart doesn’t slow for rest after Inti sets, it is best to honor its wishes.
Sumac’s heart gave him no such instructions. He was already settling down on a smaller weaving on the floor in a corner of the wasi, his head tucked into the soft feathers of his back, his body scrunched low to hold in its warmth. He was grating his beak comfortably and occasionally mumbling his bird version of Mama’s humming tune.
I went outside and lay on the earth, staring upward. The tall mountain, the Black One, commanded my attention. I stared at its pointed tip in quiet wonder. It held many secrets within its huge body, and it seemed to be lonely, although it was surrounded by other mountains. Perhaps its knowledge and wisdom kept it separate, like a shaman living on the edge of a llaqta, feared by the people.
Above the looming outlines of the mountains, the children of Inti and Mama Killa twinkled in the dark sky, a familiar sight in such an unfamiliar place. Perhaps because of Sumac’s humming, thoughts of my own mama came to me. Was she thinking of me just then? Was she looking up at the skies and hoping that I was all right? I took comfort in the knowledge that the Paqo would have told her where I had gone, and that Hatun would be with her by now. Would Mama understand the reason for my journey? Perhaps she was excited, thinking of her youngest child returning home healed and beautiful, ready to resume her training to become a shaman, right and true.
I closed my eyes and imagined Mama here with me, leaning over my face and giving me a good-night kiss. I had remembered many things from my past on this journey, but I still couldn’t recall the time before my scar, when I must have accepted Mama’s kisses with little-girl delight. I had only one true memory of my mother kissing me, the night before I had left on my journey. I was grateful to have that one.
***
Just before dawn, I stretched and headed toward the Sacred Rock, Sumac groggily perched atop my shoulder. Now that it was time to speak with the rock, my heart slowed. Waiting can be more challenging than doing. The city was still. There was a heavy feeling in the air, and I noticed dark clouds hovering above like angry jaguars waiting to pounce. I walked as silently as possible, not wanting to break the spell of the quiet night.
I paused where I had stood the day before. It was time. It was finally time. Hushed voices whispered nearby. Smoothing my wrap and running my fingers through my hair to neaten it, I took a deep breath and released it slowly. Here I am, I thought as I made the last steps around the path to meet the rock.
Welcome, it seemed to say as I laid my eyes upon it for the first time. It was almost twice as tall as I, with a flat surface and a pointed tip. Immediately, I knew I had seen it before. Yes, we met last night, it agreed. Look behind me.
The Sacred Rock had been cut and shaped to look exactly like the Black One, which rose directly behind it. It was a miniature version of the mighty, lonely mountain I had compared to a powerful shaman the night before.
Several people stood with the guards about the base. Some whispered with each other. Others were silent.
“Here is the way of the Sacred Rock,” one of the guards announced to the small group of assembled people. The wind began to blow, and he raised his voice further to be heard. “We will tell you when it is your turn to speak with the wise one. You will approach it alone and ask it your question. It may answer. It may tell you something
else rather than addressing your question. Or it may choose not to speak with you at all. Such is the way of the rock. When you are done, move away so the next person may have an opportunity. You,” he said, pointing to an older man with a stooped back and a wooden cane, “will speak first.”
Trembling, the man bowed his head. I could see the pain of hunger in his shrunken body. He held a handful of small rocks and dried flowers, and here I realized I had made a critical error. I had not thought to bring a gift for the rock! Did I have time to fetch something? No. Then, what could I offer that would hold meaning? How could I demonstrate my complete faith in its power to heal me?
The old man stepped away from the rock. His face spoke of much happiness. Of course the rock had spoken well with him. He’d remembered to bring it an offering! The guards pointed to a woman who carried a scrawny newborn secured to her chest. She bowed and approached. Was she asking the rock for food for her child? To heal a sickness? How many of these people were here because of the troubles brought on by the drought?
Inti was beginning to rise. The Sun God was battling the large clouds that now filled the sky world, and I didn’t take it as a good omen when the first faint flickers of his rising body were abruptly covered. Sumac stirred with these feeble signs of the dawn. He preened, his left wing lightly touching my scarred cheek. His feathers had kept the world from having to gaze upon the ugly side of my face, and they had freed me from the constant worry of covering it. Thinking of how I had hidden myself, I had the perfect idea, right and true. I knew how to show my faith in the Sacred Rock’s ability to heal me. But how could I do it properly?
I looked about me. One of the waiting men had a knife hanging from his belt. It was an ordinary one, not a tumi, but it would do. He was staring at the rock with intense concentration, lines that spoke of troubles etched into his face.
I tiptoed to him and leaned in. “May I borrow this?” I asked.
“What?” he asked in surprised distraction.
“May I borrow your knife? I’ll return it right away.”
He lifted it from its sheath and handed it to me, not bothering to say anything more.
I looked at Sumac, my friend, my protector, my companion and guide to Beyond. “You are a true friend, and I thank you for all that you have done for me. But you must go now,” I whispered. He stopped preening to look at me. I studied him as well, the white crinkled skin surrounding his dark brown eyes, the splendor of the individual red feathers. I knew this bird so well.
“Go. I must do this without you,” I said, and with a quick bob of his head, the Handsome One took off in flight. He circled once and then headed in the direction of the wasi.
I lifted the knife. With a sense of ceremony and purpose, I placed the sharp edge against my hair, held it taut with my other hand, and began to cut in short, powerful motions. My long, beautiful black hair that had served as my shield from the world came away in large clumps. I tried to hold the strands carefully, not wanting to drop any on the ground. I did my best to shorten the haircut evenly, just below my chin. When I was done, I handed the knife back to the man. He didn’t even look at me as he placed it back in its cover, so intently was he focused on the rock.
I flipped my head from side to side, trying out the new feeling of lightness. The woman with the baby was finished. The guards pointed to the man with the knife, and he stepped forward. His lips were moving. He was already in conversation with the rock. I realized he had probably been speaking with it the entire time, and I hoped my interruption hadn’t troubled him.
I clutched my cut hair tightly as I watched the people selected one by one to speak with the rock. I knew many of them were feeling desperate—for food or for the healing of an illness in themselves or a loved one. I wished I had the power of the rock, the power to heal them all.
Somehow I knew I was to go last. Soon enough there were two of us remaining. I eyed the young man who waited with me. He shifted from foot to foot. When the guards pointed to him, he offered me a nervous smile before he went to the rock.
“You are calm,” a voice spoke from behind me.
I turned. It was the Villac Uma! I dropped to my knees and kissed my fingertips. I wanted to ask why he was there, but it would have been presumptuous to do so. I’m certain he heard my unspoken question, but he didn’t offer me an answer. Instead, he raised his eyebrows and gestured with his head. “The rock waits for you.”
My body, the entire world, seemed to turn suddenly cold at these words. The young man was gone. The guards were watching, waiting to see what I was going to do.
I rose and approached the Sacred Rock carefully, as I would a baby jaguar with whom I wished to play. In my mind I practiced one last time what I would say. Will you take my scar away? Will you make me whole again? Fingers trembling, I placed my cut hair on the earth in front of it, and the wind immediately snatched up my offering and scattered it to the sky world. Pushing my shortened hair behind my ears, I stepped onto the ledge at the base of the rock and placed my hands against its cool surface. Rich green lichen grew on its body. I leaned in, touched my scarred cheek to the stone, and looked up at its pointed tip. Behind it, the Black One loomed, mirroring its shape.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. And here something astonishing happened. “Please,” I said as I exhaled, “please, will you bring the rains to the people? Will you make the crops grow so the people can be whole and healthy again?”
The words that I had spoken surprised me to my very core. I opened my eyes in panic. What had I just done? Before I could correct myself and speak the words I had come to say, the Sacred Rock was responding. The winds swirled about, and the earth rumbled deep and low, telling of its thirst for the waters that hadn’t come for so long. Then a loud clap of thunder echoed from the dark clouds. Illapa had finally thrown his stone at his sister’s water jug, and it released a torrent of rain that pelted down all about me.
I fell to the ground, and the rain was so powerful, it seemed to be pushing me into the thirsty earth as it tried to soak up every drop the clouds offered. I stared at the Sacred Rock, my tears mixing with the rain as they streamed down my cheeks, one smooth, one still hideously scarred. I had lost my only chance to heal myself, right and true, for I knew the rock would never answer a second request.
The ground was muddy and cold. Several strands of my cut hair swirled round and round in a churning pool of dirty water. I grabbed a fistful of mud and ground it into my scar as I shook with hot sobs.
Strong hands pulled me to my feet, and I was staring at the Villac Uma. It took all my control to face the powerful head priest at such a moment.
“Apprentice Girl, did you speak to the rock of rain?”
What a person said to the rock was sacred and private. This would have been too bold a question from anyone but the Villac Uma.
“I meant to ask it to take away my scar. I don’t know why I asked for the rains. It was a mistake! I made a mistake!”
The mighty shaman raised his arms to the skies, and the winds quieted, as if he had commanded them to do so in order that he might speak. Even the rain sounded apologetic as it fell around us, tiptoeing its way to the earth. “It was no mistake,” he said. “The Sacred Rock has served you well.”
I concentrated on the Villac Uma’s moving lips, trying to stay with his words. But I didn’t understand what he meant. I clenched my hands together. The nails dug into my palms.
“We have known for some time that this drought would happen. We also knew that a young girl would rise to power and appease the spirits, but it would have to be the proper girl, right and true. The spirits told us this girl would be marked by one of their own so we would know her.” Here the Villac Uma raised his arm and traced his finger along my scar, reminding me of that long-ago day when the yunka stranger had done the same.
“The Paqo and I were both rising priests in the capital city. We knew one of us was destined to be the Villac Uma and the other was to find the Marked Girl and be certai
n she was the one. When we heard of a little child who had been scarred by a jaguar, the Paqo chose to move to her village to watch over her and be certain she was strong enough to follow her destined path. That child was you, Marked Girl.”
I couldn’t accept that my teacher had kept such secrets from me, had allowed me to suffer as I had. “He knew? The Paqo knew all of this? Why would he keep this from me?”
“You had to find your voice and learn the way, the path of helping the people. We were watching to see if your choices showed us you were indeed the Marked Girl.” The priest lifted his hands toward the Sacred Rock in reverence. “You came to Sacred Sun City and spoke with the rock. You asked it the true question of your heart. It responded to you and gave us the rain. Marked Girl, you are the one we have sought, right and true. The jaguar marked you so there would be no mistake. If you so choose, you will study with me and become a shaman priestess, a mighty shaman priestess.” The Villac Uma smiled down at me as a father would a child. “Do you accept the fate the spirits have handed you, Marked Girl?”
I was too overwhelmed to speak. The tears returned as I nodded a disbelieving yes. The nod became more vigorous, chin to chest and then to the sky. I wanted no confusion in my answer. Yes! Yes! Yes!
The powerful priest smiled in true joy. “The feast tonight is in honor of Inti, but it will also be in honor of you. Try to rest now. We will celebrate all night, and you will begin your training and duties with me at dawn. You will swallow the sacred drink and journey to Beyond to assist me in the ceremony.”
The Villac Uma left me then. I dropped to my knees the moment he was gone from sight, unable to hold my own weight any longer. I was the Marked Girl, worthy of studying with the Villac Uma himself? It seemed an impossible thing. There must have been a mistake.
The Ugly One Page 13
