The Ugly One (7 page)

“Are you sure this is wise?” Chasca asked in concern. “I have heard he is disgraced, that he was sent away from Cuzco by the Sapa Inca himself.”

I had heard this as well. It was the favored explanation for the Paqo's sudden arrival in our
llaqta
several years ago. But even if I had been frightened by such sayings, I couldn't have denied the mighty shaman. He had chosen me. I was to study with him.

Mama smiled at me and said, “We don't know why the Paqo left the capital city, but I am certain he has much to teach you. You will be a good
yachachisqa
, a strong learning girl. Just be careful, my daughter.”

It is these last words that showed Mama's right and true heart. She was afraid. But I didn't ask myself then what it was that brought fear to my quiet, watching mother. It didn't occur to me until later that dwelling in the realm of the spirits could bring danger, especially to an ugly girl in a time when the rains didn't come.

9

T
HE
next morning, Sumac and I went to the Paqo's
wasi
after the morning sun greeting. He already had a visitor: Cora, the unfortunate wife of old Sutic. He gestured me inside, and I seated myself beside them without speaking.

The Paqo was studying the inside of a large clay jar. I peered in and saw a handful of spiders crawling about. The hearth fire crackled and hissed as he slowly waved his fingers and whispered strangely to the spiders. “Yes, yes. I see. But what of the back?”

Cora sat with wide eyes, her hands clenched tightly in worry. The Paqo leaned in so closely, his lips almost touched the edge of the jar. He smiled down on the scurrying eight-legged creatures and whispered, “Ah, yes. To the right. I see.” Then he sat up abruptly and spoke to Cora. “Your husband will sleep on his right side. This will help the back pain. Be sure he takes the medicines.”

Cora opened her hands to examine a small pouch she held. She nodded her head vigorously. “
Pachis
, thank you, mighty shaman.
Pachis!
”

The Paqo selected a cluster of dried grasses hanging upside down from the roof beam. “This is
muña
grass,” he said as he handed it to her. “Burn it inside the
wasi
. Breathe in the smoke. It will help soothe your headaches.”

Cora looked at him in surprise, and I could see she hadn't told him of her own physical pains.

“It isn't always so easy to be the wife of Sutic, eh?” the Paqo asked with a gentle smile. Cora smiled back at him uncertainly and gave a faint nod of agreement. She studied the
muña
with wonder before delicately placing it inside the folds of her clothing.

I had never thought much about Cora's troubles before. I had seen her my whole life, and not once had I asked myself what it would be like to be her. To watch her husband retch up filthy foot water in front of the people, to stand by his side while others laughed, to support him and walk away from Uncle Turu and his stories. None of this could have been easy. How many similar moments had she experienced? Was it possible she was as unhappy in life as I was?

Rising, Cora kissed her fingers and bowed toward the Paqo. She slowly backed her way out of the
wasi
, pausing to bow and kiss her fingers every few steps. Then, with a final “
Pachis!
” she was gone. I hoped the medicines would help her husband's stooping back and her aching head. I wondered if I might learn something that could help her. And then it occurred to me that there might come a time when the Paqo would use his power to heal my scarred face. Might I ever have the courage to ask him to do such a thing?

“You are free to go,” the Paqo said.

At first I thought he meant me, but then I saw the spiders were leaving the jar, crawling over the thick edge and down toward the earth to safety. One lone spider remained atop the jar, its delicate legs blending in to the thin geometric designs that crisscrossed their way down the painted sides.

“Will the new voice speak today?”

I smiled. I was nervous. I didn't know why I was there or what we would do. More talk of the lessons in the leaves, perhaps? “Yes,” I said.

The Paqo scowled. “No,” he replied. “Today the new voice listens.”

Even simple questions were not to be answered lightly in this place. My first word of the lesson, and it was wrong. I repeated, “Today the new voice listens.”

The Paqo nodded with a quiet grunt of affirmation. And then he said nothing. For a long time, he sat and said nothing. I stayed seated as well, waiting for his next words. They didn't come. Still I didn't speak. I would not be wrong again. If I must, I would wait all day for his words.

Sumac rested comfortably, his cheek next to my head. He tucked his left leg up to his belly and began grating the top and bottom of his beak together, a quiet sound that told me he was preparing to sleep. It soothed me somewhat, but I felt now that I was somehow failing to solve a simple riddle. What did the Paqo want me to do? Why had he chosen me to study with him when I couldn't answer even the easiest of questions? I should leave. I wasn't meant to be here. Not only was I ugly, I was unwise. It was a terrible thing to realize about myself, for what did I have left?

“Well?” the Paqo asked sharply. “What did you hear?”

And suddenly I understood. I was supposed to have been listening not to the Paqo's words but to something else. What had I heard? In a panic, I tried to grasp at some sound. “Sumac falling asleep.”

“And what is the sound of a bird falling asleep?”

“He grates his beak. The sound grows louder, then slows and stops. When he is quiet, I know he has fallen asleep.”

“You didn't see him fall asleep,” the Paqo said. This was a statement, not a question, for he had been watching me the whole time and knew it was so. “Are you certain he is truly sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

I didn't turn to look at Sumac. Instead, I kept my gaze on the Paqo. “I know. He is standing on one foot as he does in sleep. I can feel it in the way he grips my shoulder. He is very still.”

The Paqo smiled. “Good. Very good. Now study the spider.”

Perhaps I had passed the listening test. I turned my attention to the lone spider still sitting atop the jug. It was motionless, but Sumac stirred in response to my subtle shift in position.

“All is one. All is now,” the Paqo said. “To realize this is to reach Beyond. Study the spider. Learn its wisdom. Its eyes are your eyes. All is one. There is a language more powerful and ancient than the human tongue. Hear the language of the world.”

I tried to understand. I leaned forward, watching the spider so intently, my eyes began to water and blur. Still I stared. I tried to listen to the wisdom of the spider.

Suddenly, Sumac reached down, and in one quick peck he snatched the bug into his mouth. The Handsome One had eaten my spider lesson!

The Paqo hooted with laughter. He rubbed his head in delight. “You see? Again the bird is a teacher! Where is the spider? Has it disappeared?”

“It's in there now,” I said as I pointed to Sumac's belly. He stretched his wings upward and bobbed his feathered head in bird delight.

“We all are one. Bird and spider. Leaf and wind. To hear is to see. To feel is to know. The past is now. All is Beyond. Do you understand?”

Another question. I would answer truthfully. “No.”

The Paqo nodded his head appreciatively at my honesty. “Good. Then you are not meant to.”

I wasn't meant to understand? Then why was I here? Was this to be my last lesson?

The Paqo twitched his fingers at me as he added, “Yet.”

I was afraid to speak, but also, I was afraid not to. “Will there come a time when I
do
understand? Is it possible I am the right and true person to study with you?”

“I'm not the one to answer such questions.”

“Who is?”

“You.”

The word hovered in the air. It clung to my wool cloak and settled on my shoulders far more heavily than the weight of Sumac.

“But not yet,” the Paqo added. “New voices need time to grow. Study the spiders. Study all. Watch, listen, feel the oneness. You will know when you will know.”

This was the end of the lesson. I didn't back out of the
wasi
bowing and kissing my fingers at the Paqo as Cora had, for it didn't seem appropriate. But I did pause at the hummingbird weaving in the doorway to say, “
Pachis
.”

“You are most welcome, New Voice. I will see you tomorrow.”

I smiled at these words. Not only because they told me there would be more lessons, but also because I had finally been given a name other than the Ugly One.

10

I studied all. I watched the people purge their homes at the start of the new moon. Every corner was cleaned, and corn-dough was rubbed along entranceways to appease the spirits of dirt and sickness. I listened for the ancient language of the world as Mama Killa, Moon Mother, grew larger in the sky night by night, but I had yet to hear the voice of Beyond right and true. I found myself questioning more and more why the shaman had chosen me. The spirit world would never speak to such an ugly girl, no matter how hard or long I listened.

I heard the laughter of the women and the girls of the
llaqta
. Not because the rains had arrived, for Inti still reigned in the daytime skies, but because it was Coya Raymi, a time of celebration for the women. It was during this moon cycle, once a year, that the women and Mama Killa were most honored and happy. On the night when Mama Killa was at her fullest, the entire village celebrated with a lavish communal meal, although no one spoke of how meager the feast would be this year. I studied the people and saw the worry carved into their faces like a carefully designed mask.

A strange shift had occurred in me. But I was so intent on studying the world that I didn't notice it until Chasca pointed it out to me. It was the night of the full moon. We sat together by the fire, waiting for Uncle Turu to begin his storytelling.

“You are changing,” Chasca said, her skin glowing a beautiful gold in the firelight.

“I am?”

“Yes. You have never sat with me by the fire before.”

“You are right!” I said in surprise.

Chasca smiled and put her arm around my back. She rested her head lightly on my left shoulder. Sumac preened himself happily on the other side, and I will say I felt as full and content as Mama Killa at that moment.

Chasca had spoken truly. As you have heard, I always sat away from the people, at the edge of the group. This was a small observation she had made, but also not so small. I wondered what was different.

I often forgot myself in my watching and listening. I had been studying the flames of the fire when Chasca spoke to me. But there was another reason, and I thought I knew what it was as I sat with my beautiful sister. The people treated me differently. They smiled my way more often.

Some of these smiles were fearful. They were tight lipped, with nervous, flitting eyes. These people were afraid of my powers as the
yachachisqa
, the student of the mighty shaman, or perhaps they were scared of Sumac and his big beak. But other smiles were wide and true. These smiles came for a reason that is difficult to explain. Imagine a girl rushing through her days with her head down, her face hidden behind her hair. Would you grin at such a girl as she scuttled past you in fear? No. Now see this same girl moving slowly, watching you. She will see your smile, yes? So you offer it to her.

By opening my eyes and my ears, I was creating a world of more smiles for myself. It was an odd and new sensation, to be seen after a lifetime spent feeling as invisible as the very air, and I was still learning to return those smiles.

One person in particular, Ucho, had changed his ways toward me as quickly as the air turns frigid once Inti sets from the sky. Ucho ignored me completely now. As I reflected on it by the fire, I realized that I hadn't seen him much over the past moon. I searched the faces and found him on the opposite side of the fire, sitting with his brother and the other boys. His nose had healed, but it would always have a strange twisted appearance at the end. Perhaps it wasn't me that Ucho avoided, but the Handsome One. I decided it didn't much matter, as long as he stayed away.

Sighing happily, I rested my head against Chasca's as Uncle Turu stepped in front of the fire. Tonight would be one of the people's favorite stories, a love story, that always sparked much debate after its telling.

Uncle Turu rose, rubbing his big hands together briskly in expectation. He waited for the people to grow quiet before beginning. When the air was heavy with the silence of the surrounding mountains and every pair of eyes was fixed intently on him, Uncle Turu boomed, “
Ñawpa pachapi
.”

There is much power in these opening words, yes? Can you see the people settling onto the earth more comfortably, content to be caught up in the story Uncle Turu would weave for them?

“Once upon a time there was a girl named Chuguillanto who was more beautiful than any across the empire. She hadn't a single freckle or mole, and her face was so perfect, the very birds stopped their singing when she walked by, for she was far lovelier than any song they could offer.

“When she was eight, Chuguillanto was selected to become a member of the Acllahuasi, the convent of the Sun Maidens, in the capital city of Cuzco. Most of the Sun Maidens would become wives to noblemen, or servants to the sacred mummies, or weavers of the finest cloth worn by the Sapa Inca. But such was not to be the fate of Chuguillanto. Because of her great beauty, the emperor himself had chosen her to be the next offering to Inti if the times demanded a human sacrifice. In a convent of thousands of Sun Maidens, such a selection was the greatest of honors.