"The Ugly One," Vocabulary from Chapters 21-25

My heart pounded like drops of rain pummeling down upon the dry earth.

All around, taller mountains loomed like strong guardians protecting the sacred space.

From such a distance, the river looked like a thin band of silver or a sparkling snake that slithered its way across the land.

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.

A group of nobles sat and debated scholarly issues. Another group of men toiled in a quarry, extracting large rocks.

There was a heavy feeling in the air, and I noticed dark clouds hovering above like angry jaguars waiting to pounce.

How many of these people were here because of the troubles brought on by the drought?

“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.

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.

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.

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 walked back to the wasi in an exhausted trance.

The three of us walked as one to the Acllahuasi, the Sun Maidens’ convent, and the air was full of the fresh, earthy smell that a strong rain leaves.

They led me to a fountain. I stripped off my dirty travel wrap and stepped in. The water was soothing and abundant. In a year of no rains, this was the most luxurious of baths.

The Maidens used a small knife with an ornately embellished golden handle to cut and smooth my hair, and many hands began twining small strands into a series of formal hanging braids.

I could see from her demeanor that Chasca was still adjusting to her new life.

I was self-conscious under their scrutiny.

The clothes and scents and jewelry were lovely and special, but I was the same girl underneath all this finery.

With all the Maidens watching and my sister holding my hand protectively, Ocllo reached a tentative finger to my face and rested it on the corner of my eyebrow.

They were all dressed in their finest clothing and jewelry, strutting about and feeling joyful on this celebratory night.

Platters of duck and partridge, rabbit and bird eggs, and seasoned venison passed by in dizzying numbers.

Kidney beans, peanuts, green and red chili peppers, sorrel, cress, and quinoa, yucca and cucumbers, and of course potatoes and corn were piled, steaming, into the people’s bowls.

Not a single morsel would be dropped to the ground or go wasted, for it was said that if the food were able, it would weep tears at being misused in any manner.

“You look beautiful!” she gushed as she settled herself next to me on a rush mat. “How do you feel?”

I thought back to the time Chasca had found me covering my face with mud, trying in vain to hide my scar.

The drummer’s hair was a black blur as he beat on the instrument. His entire being moved with the intricate rhythms he pounded with his hands.

She handed the bowl to me. It was filled to the brim with a strong-smelling liquid. She said, “It is a mixture of aca and koka and other sacred plants. Drinking it will begin your journey as a shaman priestess.”

His breath smelled of aca, and shadows from the fire moved on his face in quick rising-and-falling motions, so it seemed as though Inti were waking and setting on the holy man’s face over and over again. His dark eyes reflected the hypnotic, dancing flames.

He raised his hands high and proclaimed, “Praise Inti! The Sun God has returned to us once more!” I lifted my arms to the sky in praise and prayer, as did all the people.

His dark eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to me—not to my body, but to the me that hovered above the ground, and he offered a subtle smile.

I speak with Inti and Illapa on their behalf and there is much, much rain for the earth.

The Paqo, my old teacher, is there as well. He is a powerful priest who has returned to the capital city and is treated with the utmost honor and respect for having found the Marked Girl.

It is a future full of hard work and dedication, but it is a good future, a good life, that I see.

I travel to the time of the rains. They fall in abundance, and the people dance and sing praises to the Marked Girl who spoke with the spirit world on their behalf and brought a time of abundance.

And now I see my scarred self hiding throughout many, many years. I wish I could tell this girl that all will be fine; the suffering will have meaning and be worthwhile. But as the wind, all I can do is watch and learn.