"The Ugly One," Vocabulary from Chapters 1-5

Nawpa pachapi, once upon a time, when I was a young girl, my favorite thing to do was sit on the outskirts of the fire circle and listen to one of my Uncle Turu’s stories.

I needed his stories, for the times when he told them were the only times I truly forgot myself, forgot how hideously ugly I was.

As I shifted my weight on the unyielding stone, a few hairs caught in my eyelashes.

I brushed them away and turned my attention back to the soft white alpaca wool resting on my lap.

It was from one of the young animals. Their wool was the softest, the most desirable. I lifted a cleaned clump and lightly rubbed it against my smooth left cheek, up and down, side to side. In a deliberate arc, I moved it across my forehead.

When it touched my right eyebrow, I slowed, using it to trace the deep scar that ran like a river from my right eye down my cheek to my lip and lowered my mouth in a permanent half frown. I used to believe that if I rubbed the alpaca hard enough into my skin, it would make the scar smooth and soft.

There were also bundles of colorful feathers, spotted furs, exotic fruits, dead butterflies of unusual color and size, and pouches of what I guessed to be jungle herbs.

Uncle Turu was trying to intimidate the stranger into a trade, pushing his nose close to the man’s face, snorting like the turu, the bull for which he was named.

I pulled my right hand through my hair and stepped closer to the large, noisy crowd, hoping no one would notice me in the commotion.

At once he was pointing and screeching, “Kee! Kee! Look, the Ugly One is here. Millay shows her face.”

The man scowled as he studied Ucho, as if the boy were smeared in fresh llama dung that was unpleasant to the nose.

His eyes studied me intently—deep brown eyes that I didn’t understand—but at least he didn’t dangle me off the ground like a dead animal or look at me as if I smelled unpleasant.

Slowly, Ucho rose, careful to look at no one. He raised his shoulders pridefully and walked to the little animal still lying on the ground.

Scooping it into his hands, he delivered the pathetic creature to the yunka man, holding it up to him like an offering to the gods.

“By my feet!” the man commanded, and my heart soared to watch Ucho humiliated like this in front of so many people.

He probed me with these eyes, searching my thoughts, my spirit.

Even this seemed ridiculous. Calling this scrawny bird Handsome One?

I wanted to leave them behind, to forget, to not be bothered by his taunts, but we are not always able to do what we want.

Then Inti, the great Sun Lord, took pity on the wretched creatures of the earth and sent his son, Manco Capac, to spread civilization.

Civilization came to the people, and Cuzco was the center of it all, a thriving city of nobles and priests.

The people solemnly repeated, “So it was and ever shall be.”

I’d fed Sumac again, and he was nestled into the center of a basket filled with warm alpaca wool, just to the side of my rush mat.

She found Papa very funny and liked to goad him.

Mama, who often kept Papa calm with her soothing voice, murmured from under the covers, “That would seem wise.”

Papa was always worrying that some disaster would befall our family.

“It is a bad omen if the bat visits you at twilight,” Papa said.

But no, my mind cleared a bit, and I heard Sumac making little raspy eeeee sounds in the basket to my right.

But he was very far away, so far that he appeared smaller than Sumac hunched in his little basket.

The clouds hung just above his head and sent down small tendrils that caressed him.

The antara led me to the home of the great Paqo, the powerful shaman of our people.

One so powerful as the great Paqo would be most offended by such a loathsome face as mine.

Still, a faint light from the hearth glimmered on the gold plugs hanging from his ears, a sign of his high status.

“The past is the key to the now,” he went on, and the jaguar hanging behind him hissed. Or perhaps it was the embers crackling and spitting on the hearth.

What did I remember of my past? Sitting on my huaca. Hiding my face from the people. Searching for a way to make my scar leave me forever. Lurking at the far edge of the fire, always away from the people and the eyes and the words that stung.

Inti shone brightly above. I had missed the morning greeting to the sun. Did he understand why? Was he angry with me? I couldn’t bear the thought. Inti was the only companion I had.