by Moose Tyler
“How so?”
“Well, they wouldn’t want just any mural in front of Creation, now would they?”
Her lips curled up, but she kept sketching. “Guess not.”
“Besides, that gallery needs something besides the Great Mother. Can’t take three steps without seeing a tree dedicated to Her.”
Ursula laughed. “She’s a muse for many.”
“I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
“Thanks, Amaria.” She looked up from her parchment. “Seriously, what are you doing here? Has sickness taken hold?”
Amaria laughed. “I wish.” She picked up another hunk of clay and rolled two more balls.
“Must be pretty bad to wish for such a thing.”
Amaria stopped rolling and looked at her friend. As much as she didn’t like to think about it, like all citizens, Ursula could get sick. She would age and die much faster than Amaria. When Sakina had lived at home, she frequently warned Amaria about being too friendly with Ursula. It wasn’t forbidden for warriors to be friends with citizens, and Sakina liked Ursula. Most everyone in Themiscia did, but once Amaria took the shield and moved to the warriors’ camp, she wouldn’t see Ursula as much. Sakina thought it was best to consider all citizens as nothing more than game in the pens.
To Amaria though, Ursula wasn’t just a citizen. She was a friend and had been since the first day of General Studies when she asked Amaria to use her fruit to juggle with. She was as small as a mountain cat cub, wore seeing stones framed big enough for a warrior’s face, and swore on the Great Mother’s name that she would return the fruit unharmed. She spent the rest of the break, and many after, teaching Amaria how to juggle. The thought of her getting sick and dying was as bad as Amaria thinking of her mother deteriorating like Penelope’s. It was too intense, and it made her shudder.
She looked away. “I should be more careful with my prayers.”
“I take it your lesson didn’t go well.”
“What did Penelope tell you?”
Ursula touched to top of Amaria’s shoulder with the burnt stick. “It wasn’t Penelope. It was your shoulder. Trouble is festering.”
Amaria looked at the welts. The cream had done a sufficient job of snuffing the itch, but she could feel its effects wearing off. “Carried a sack of orange-ringed berries to the healers.”
She wasn’t ready to share the tale of Sakina and the clearing just yet, but berry duty was different. That talk had already spread.
Ursula crinkled her nose. “Ouch.”
Amaria scratched the welts, and the sting flared. She tossed the clay ball in the air and practiced catching it on the back of her hand to keep occupied. “Punishment for not returning a scroll to Wanje. How was your day?”
“Well, let’s see. I rehearsed lines with Pandora over morning dine and kept beat while she sang, but modeling costume choices for her show was too much, so I’ve since retired to my sanctuary.”
Amaria picked up the other two balls of clay and practiced juggling.
Ursula imitated Pandora. “A One-Woman Affair must sizzle in every way. It must tantalize, humanize, and scandalize.”
Amaria laughed.
“It was no sack of orange-ringed berries,” said Ursula, “but painful enough.”
Amaria heard a sound outside. “What was that?” She motioned for Ursula to quiet down. “Shhh.”
Three heartbeats passed before she heard it again. It was muffled but sounded like someone trying to imitate a bird’s crow. They hadn’t mastered the caw completely, but they were pretty close.
Ursula stood up. “Oh, that’s nothing.” She walked to the opening in the floor, peered over, and nodded. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Amaria before addressing whomever was waiting below. “I’m coming down.” She sat on the ledge and disappeared.
Amaria looked around the tree. It was big enough to fit at least eight warriors comfortably. There were several holes in the walls to allow breeze to pass through. There was a table and two chairs, a stand for painting, two storage trunks, and a rug with pillows scattered about. Yellow and green cloth draped from the roof to hide some of the shoddier construction work. Ursula had built the shelter herself to escape Pandora’s rehearsing and singing. It was made with thatch and wood. She paid for the supplies trading the clothes she sewed. Ursula was no architect, but she didn’t do a bad job building the shelter. There were only a few gaps here and there. When it rained, she sat out buckets to try to collect what she could.
Amaria heard Ursula talking outside from below the tree, but her words were too muffled to make out. She casually walked towards the opening, practicing her investigation techniques. When she reached the ledge, she stopped and listened.
“I couldn’t get much,” she heard a voice whisper. “Only a few scraps.”
Amaria leaned over and looked down. Ursula was measuring a girl with a piece of rope. The girl had her back to Amaria, so she couldn’t see her face.
“You’re not very big,” said Ursula. “I might have some extra pieces when I finish the others.”
“I can try to get more.”
She measured the girl’s length. “Don’t risk it.” She looked up.
Amaria jerked back, out of sight. A few heartbeats passed before the conversation resumed.
“I can’t finish it now,” said Ursula. “I have two more in front of you. Plus, they gave me a tree today.”
“Beastly! Congratulations.”
“I’ll try to have yours done by Genesis, but don’t bet your arrowheads.”
Amaria leaned closer but kept out of sight.
“Tell Calandra I won’t make any more until after Genesis.”
Amaria wasn’t sure if she knew a Calandra. Ursula had friends in every camp. Whenever someone would ask Amaria if she knew this citizen or that, she would always say that she didn’t have to know everyone, just Ursula.
“I need to get back to work,” Ursula said. “I’ve got your fitting. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
Amaria walked away from the platform and sat down on the rug. Soon, Ursula pulled herself through the opening and went to the trunk in the corner. “Sorry about that,” she said as she opened the lid.
Amaria tried to sneak a peek at the contents, but her angle was off so she stood up. “Who was that?”
“Shantrelle. Do you know her?” Ursula pulled something out of her smock and tossed it into the trunk. It bounced off the lid and rolled across the floor to Amaria’s feet.
She bent down and picked it up. It was a ball of fabric that had a light sheen. Before she could examine it properly, Ursula snatched it from her hands.
“I’m making her a tunic,” she said.
“Not much there for a tunic.”
“She’s small.” Ursula turned around, tossed it inside the trunk, and shut the lid. “And, this cloth stretches.”
“What kind is it?”
She looked at Amaria suspiciously. “Since when do you care about tunics? Though, Ellamille told me they saw you in quite the outfit last night.”
Amaria rolled her eyes. “I don’t care about tunics. I was just asking.”
Ursula shrugged. “I need some honey. Shall we brave Pandora?”
Amaria nodded, “Sounds fun.”
Ursula motioned for Amaria to go first before closing the latch door and sliding down the rope. “Speaking of tunics,” she said, once on the ground, “any thoughts on what you’re wearing tonight?”
Amaria hadn’t officially decided on what she’d wear to her first council meeting. She knew she needed to look nice, but how nice was still a question.
Ursula laughed. She sucked in her cheeks and widened her eyes. “Guess not, fish eyes.”
Amaria laughed. “Got the heartbeats to sew me a new piece?”
“Afraid not.” She grabbed Am
aria’s arm and walked her across the yard. “I think whatever you choose it will be better with the leather guards I gave you last Genesis. I never see you wear them.”
“I don’t want to ruin them.”
“My work is meant to be worn, Amaria. Not stowed in a cabinet.”
“Okay, leather guards it is.”
“All I ask is that, when someone comments on the crafting, you send them my way.”
Pandora busted out of the house and ran into the yard. She had changed clothes. She now wore a feathered boa, a pink robe that Amaria could see through, and wooden slippers. She rushed over. Her hair was tucked under a brown cap. She had red circles painted on her cheeks and, what looked like, feathers attached to her eyebrows. “Ursula, Darling,” she said, out of breath, “be a dear and fashion me some wings.”
Ursula turned loose of Amaria’s arm. “Great Mother, grant me strength.”
Amaria laughed. “Will you be at group dine?”
“Of course,” she said before answering Pandora. “Be right there.”
Amaria waved. “Good to see you, Pandora.”
Pandora waved back. “Glad you got to see me!”
Ursula made a funny face before making her way over to appease the request.
As Amaria walked to the path, she heard Pandora imitate a bird’s crow. She looked back and saw her flapping her arms and circling Ursula.
Pandora trilled her own version of a war cry. “Like the giant birds of the north, my dearest Ursula, tonight – we shall soar!”
When Amaria walked into her house, she thanked the Great Mother that no one else was there. Fi and Gypsus must have been running errands, and her mother was at Sakina’s fitting. Amaria wasn’t as excited for her sister’s armor ceremony as she had been the night before, but her enthusiasm for attending her first council meeting had started heating up. She grabbed some fruit from the dining area and gobbled it down as she went to her room.
She took off the satchel and put it on the trunk at the foot of her bed. She kicked off her sandals, and stripped the clothes from her body. She raised her arms and untied her braids. “Shew!”
She put her arms down. She folded the kilt and chest piece and put them in the laundry basket that she kept at the back of the cabinet. She looked at her wrist. When Amaria had first severed Sakina’s camouflage, it had been wound too tight, but the longer she wore it, the more it took the form of her skin. She had forgotten it was there. She ran her fingers along the cloth until she found a seam. She unraveled it and inspected it properly.
The strip was thin but, when stretched out, it was large enough to cover her back. It had been died shades of brown and green, and the blending was impeccable. When she held it up for a closer look, she could see tiny flecks of silver, just enough to give it a light sheen. The fabric in her hand was the same as the ball Ursula had tossed into her trunk. Amaria was certain, but how Ursula came into possession of what was clearly military-grade cloth was a mystery to be solved later. Now, Amaria had to solve the conundrum of finding something to wear in her cabinet that would make her both blend in and stand out from the other warriors attending their first council meeting.
She folded the cloth into a square and put it in the metal box she used to keep arrowheads and other treasures. “At least it’s something,” she muttered before hurrying to the bathing pool and plunging into the water.
Amaria had scrubbed her parts until she was as clean as a well-polished blade. She slathered herself with her mother’s softening cream, dusted her armpits with the powder, used a cleaning stick on her teeth, and had tidied her braids as best she could. With Gypsus’s help, she decided on the dark yellow kilt and chest piece. The kilt was the shortest one she owned, but Gypsus said that, with the sandals that strapped to the knee, it looked good. Amaria had chosen the necklace with the amber medallion that hung just below her throat and tucked Little Blade in the sheath woven into the straps of her sandals. She rarely went anywhere without Little Blade. It was more of a charm than weapon, though it was as sharp as the thorns of the Briar. She latched Ursula’s leather guards to her arms and felt confident that she had done a sufficient job readying herself physically for her first council meeting, but as she approached the common area and saw the peak rush of evening dine, she knew she had done little to prepare mentally for the congestion she’d have to sift through beforehand.
Group dine was mostly reserved for citizens and warriors who hadn’t taken their shields. The sages stayed at their temple and the queen, her chamber. Warriors mostly ate at camp or at the Jeweled Dagger, an exclusive club in the far northeast. They rarely came to the common area except on Genesis, the Great Harvest, and a few other special occasions including the first night after a boat arrives. On those nights, it was hard pressed to find an empty seat.
On evenings when there were council meetings, group dine buzzed with citizen activity. As Amaria entered the common area, she thought about how much she loved walking through the archway at evening dine. The bright light, the smell of delicious food, the chatter and the energy took her breath away every time. The awe didn’t last long, only a few heartbeats, because the stares soon followed. As she experienced them now, she thought about how much she hated walking through the archway at evening dine.
For Amaria, getting the stares was a lot like riding waves. She would paddle the sliver out into the water and wait. Eventually the sea would pull back, slow at first, before gaining momentum and curling into a crest. If the swirl was too high, Amaria’s heart would pound in her chest and her bowels would tighten because she knew she only had a few heartbeats before the water delivered a painful blow. That was when she would hop on the sliver and let the energy pull her along. She had learned early in her training that the only way to survive the sea was to become part of it.
Now, in the common area, she felt the wave start its crest. She pushed past a few citizens and moved towards the main food stall. The line stretched to the plate barrel. She looked at the serving table and saw Sheila dishing out food with ferocious speed. She glanced up, saw Amaria, and waved her to the front of the line.
When Amaria walked up, the citizens parted. “Thank you,” she said.
Sheila stopped serving. “Cecile, take over.”
Cecile put down the greens she was seasoning and hurried to the table. Sheila went to the back as Cecile served the diners in line. She scooped up some stew and slopped it on a citizen’s plate. Another stepped forward and got the same.
“The leather on your arms is divine,” one of them said.
Amaria smiled. “Thank you. The artist Ursula made them.”
The girl giggled and moved along.
“We’re counting on you this Genesis,” another said.
“I’ll do my best.”
Sheila returned carrying a plate heaping with food in one hand and a large cup in the other. “There you go,” she said, handing Amaria the plate.
Amaria took it, looked at the rack of boar ribs over a bed of sliced stewed fruit piled on top, and smiled. “You know this is one of my favorites.”
“Is it? I feed so many faces, Dear.”
Amaria looked at the plate again. She didn’t see the best part. “What about your sauce?”
“I may be just a citizen, Amaria, but I do what I can to protect those in need. You think I’d let you ruin your kilt before your first council meeting?”
Amaria laughed. She had dropped Sheila’s sauce on nearly everything she owned.
Sheila smiled and handed her the cup. “I hope this makes up for it.”
Amaria’s smile disappeared. Her heart started pounding harder in her chest. She looked at Sheila’s teeth, but they were all accounted for.
“Go on,” said Sheila, “take it.”
Amaria took the cup and peeked inside. It was stuffed with bread balls soaking in honey. Relief washed over her, and her heart resumed
its normal pace. She exhaled loudly and looked at Sheila.
Her face had an offended expression. “What did you think was in there?”
“I didn’t know,” said Amaria. “You’re always pulling some kind of surprise from your apron.”
Her expression softened. “That’s true. Now get. If you see sister Penelope, tell her to come see me. She’s the last of the lot.”
“I will. Thank you, Sheila.” Amaria walked away from the main food stall and over to the water and juice station.
As she went, she scanned the crowd. There were only a few open tables left. She saw Elle and Camille sitting to the left of the fruit cart. Camille looked up and saw Amaria. The others at the table turned around. Amaria nodded at them before stopping to get a cup of juice.
“It’s Amaria,” a citizen behind her said.
Amaria looked at her, smiled, and turned back around.
“I like your arm leather,” another said.
She turned and smiled again. “Thank you. The artist Ursula made them. Do you know her?”
“Of course. I’m waiting for one of her pieces myself. Get in line.”
“Oh, sorry. You were in front of me.” Amaria stepped to the side and motioned for her to go first.
The girl laughed. “No, I meant get in line for an Ursula piece. She’s quite popular.”
“Oh. Right. Well, that’s who made the leather.”
Another girl came over, and the one Amaria was talking to grabbed her arm. “This is Calandra. Calandra, this is Amaria.”
Calandra nodded. “I know. I need a word with you.”
“Sure.” The girl looked at Amaria. “I’m Cat,” she said before Calandra pulled her off to the side.
Amaria stepped out of line and let the others go ahead while she watched the conversation. Calandra spoke and Cat nodded several times before walking to the archway. Amaria looked at Calandra to see that she was staring at her. She was big for a citizen, not round but thick. She had more of a warrior’s build than Cat did, though she looked healthy too. Calandra nodded before exiting the common area.
