Contrarywise

traumatic, very terrifying thing. Aunt cleared her throat and said gently, «The villagers gave you no help after the revel? No healing?» Fasilla laughed coldly. «They were too busy nursing their own wounds to be bothered with mine, Aunt. Besides, I wasna' Suxonli born. I be an Asilliwir outsider.» Fasilla spat against the far wall. «Me clan? We wouldna' do such a thing to a person—be they outsiders or noo. We do be civilized, we Asilliwir. Not like them foul Tammi.» Fasilla took a deep breath. «What healing I got, Aunt, I got from me own people—nine months after the revel.» «You left after Ya's birth?» Fasilla nodded. «And I willna return there—ever. 'Tis a cursed, wretched place.» Aunt regarded Fasilla steadily. «And if Ya wishes to see her draw?» Fasilla swallowed, her eyes downcast. «Then she will journey there alone. I willna' return to Suxonli.» Aunt nodded. «So you keep Ya away from her own kind. You make her Asilliwir so she won't hear the call of her Tammi draw. What love is this?» Fasilla's eyes filled with tears again. She covered her face with her hands, unable to look at Aunt. «I canna' go there, Aunt,» she whispered. «Presence forgive me—but I canna.» Aunt got off the bed. She squatted beside Fasilla, stroking the younger woman's fine, brown hair. «I agree with you. Fas. You cannot return to Suxonli. But, my dearest friend, Yafatah may have to go there someday. None of us truly understands what a Crossroads Child is. In order for Ya to find out, she may have to go where you cannot follow.» «No!» cried Fasilla with sudden despair. «Doon't say this thing to me, Aunt! Doon't say this thing!» Aunt pried Fasilla's hands away from her eyes. «Look at me, Fas.» The Asilliwir met Aunt's even gaze with fury. Aunt nodded, saying, «I think my words come as no surprise to you. You carried this child, Fas.» «I doon't understand what you're talking about,» she said angrily. Aunt pulled a strand of hair away from Fasilla's lips. «I think you do. I think you knew there was something queer about Yafatah before she was born. You're not a stupid woman, Fas. I went to school with you, remember. You've got a good mind. You can put odd things together and see the sense in them.» Fasilla's face paled. «Shut up, Aunt. Just shut up.» Aunt ignored Fasilla's discomfort. «That night in Suxonli was also queer—» «Queer?» shouted Fasilla with rage. «Be that what you call a rape?» Aunt swallowed, her hands sweating, her expression hard. «You weren't the only one who was hurt that night, Fas. As you well know.» There was a stunned silence. Fasilla started to get to her feet. Aunt grabbed her arm and held Fasilla to her previous kneeling position. Fasilla's eyes blazed. «Doon't touch me,» she said in a low, dangerous voice. «You willna' make less of my pain. You willna' do what them Suxonli did to me. You willna say it was Rimble's will—'' Aunt slapped Fasilla, yelling, «It wasn't Rimble's will!» Fasilla blinked, her cheek scarlet where Aunt had struck her. The fight suddenly went out of her. Fasilla gazed distantly at Aunt. «In Suxonli, they say the Presence do be a Trickster.» «Well, they're wrong!» snapped Aunt, the Mayanabi in her disgusted. Fasilla said nothing, her expression disoriented. Then she muttered, «But Rimble do be a Face of the Presence, and even we Asilliwir call this Greatkin by roguish names.» Aunt took a deep breath. She moved toward Fasilla, sitting with her, her back against the wall of the wagon. Aunt stared at the wooden ceiling above her, choosing her words carefully. She glanced sideways at Fasilla and said, «Do you remember what you were like when you were five years old?» Fasilla nodded. «And when you were twelve?» «Yes—so?» «How about when you were sixteen? Do you remember what you thought, what you wore?» Fasilla frowned. «Where do you be taking this?» «Are you a five, twelve, or sixteen-year-old.» «Of course not, Aunt. I do be thirty-six.» «But you were all those ages once, weren't you. And at each one of them, you thought that was all you were. But at thirty-six, you can see that you're actually much, much more. You're every 'face' you've ever had. Every age you've ever been. The Presence is like that, Fas. It's a composite of all times, moods, and expressions of Itself. To say that the Presence is a Trickster is as stupid as saying you are nothing more than a five-year-old. You are that five-year-old, but you're also every age before and after. You wouldn't want to limit yourself by using a child's mind to solve adult problems, would you?» Fasilla stared at Aunt. «But Greatkin Rimble doon't be five, Aunt.» «Of course not. However, Suxonli's idea of him is. Trickster, like any of the other Greatkin, is more than what he appears to be. Although you can't see the other Greatkin when you look at Rimble, his reality, in fact, rests on the entirety of the Presence. Uh—like my Jinnjirri femaleness rests on my maleness,» she explained briefly switching gender. «Just because you can't see my breasts right now—that doesn't mean they're not there, Fas.» To demonstrate the point, Aunt became a woman again. «If you think of me as only a man or only a woman, you miss the bigger picture. Likewise, if you think of the Presence as having but one face, then you understand the Presence with the mind of a five-year-old. That's why Trickster is Trickster, Fas. He's there to remind us that the Presence has many faces. That's why he's changeable. But changeable doesn't mean evil, Fas. It doesn't mean cruel. It doesn't mean deceit. Those are our constructions. That's what we do when we become afraid of change. We say it's Rimble's will when it's really our own. Rimble didn't rape you—Yonneth did. If Yonneth had answered the call of Kelandris—if Suxonli had answered the call of Kelandris—there would've been joy. Not violence. Deny Trickster, and you deny your own need to change. Suxonli denied Trickster that night. In so doing, they denied the Trickster in each of them. And in you, since you were there.» «What do you be meaning?» asked Fasilla slowly. Aunt smiled at her friend. «Look at you, Fas. You're as angry with Suxonli now as you were all those years ago. In school, you were an easy going and merry soul. Suxonli froze you, Fas. Like it did to young Kelandris. You haven't been able to leave the trauma behind. You go over it daily, I wager—not that I blame you. Presence alive, woman—I'm not sure I could've borne the child of a rape. I'm not sure at all. Much less love her—as you clearly do.» A tear slipped down Fasilla's cheek. «I do love Ya,» she whispered. «I know,» replied Aunt gently. «And you must let her change. You must give to her what Suxonli stole from you. And if you can't, you must let others do it in your stead. People die inside when they aren't allowed to change.» Fasilla swallowed. «You think I do be killing Ya's spirit?» Aunt nodded. «I do. And that's not love, Fas. That's fear. Yours.» Fasilla sagged against the wall. «I doon't know how to be different.» Aunt took a deep breath. «You must try, my friend.» «Or?» «Or Doogat has asked me to take you back with me to Jinnjirri.» Fasilla stiffened. «Without Ya?» «Without Ya.» Fasilla's face paled. Aunt got to her feet, offering Fasilla a hand up. «Come on.» «Where?» asked the Asilliwir, standing up without Aunt's help. «To the Jinnjirri Quarter of Speakinghast. To a three storey monstrosity called the Kaleidicopia Boarding House.» Chapter Thirty-Seven As the time neared eight bell-eve, the commotion in the Kaleidicopia's large kitchen subsided. House members and guests filed into the dining room, each carrying a contribution for the table. Conversation was lively between everyone save Yafatah and her mother. The young Tammirring girl felt annoyed with her mother's continued anger over her brief exploration of the city shops and bustling streets. As Fasilla launched into yet another well meant litany of possible dangers, Yafatah slammed the platter of bread on the dining room table and stormed out of the house. She ignored her mother's sharp commands to return «this instant» and sat on the front porch of the Kaleidicopia, her mood sullen. Yafatah heard the door open and close behind her softly. She stiffened, expecting to hear her mother's voice. She was very surprised to hear Barlimo's instead. She looked up as the fifty-year-old Jinnjirri plunked down beside her on the steps. Yafatah shrugged, saying, «I doon't be hungry, so doon't be asking me to come back to the table with you.» Barlimo grunted. «Then nobody gets to eat.» «Why?» Barlimo shrugged. «I like to say grace, and I don't say grace until everyone's seated and silent at the table. Personally, I'm starved—so I'd appreciate it if you got over the sulks as soon as possible.» The Jinnjirri smiled cheerily at the Tammirring. Yafatah frowned. «I doon't be sulking.» «Oh. Well, maybe you Tammis call it something else. Where I come from, when a person goes off on their own feeling sorry for themselves—not to mention misunderstood—we Jinn call it sulking. Especially if it's aimed at making one person uncomfortable. And you've done that royally. Your mother's sitting in there crying.» Yafatah shrugged. «I doon't know what she be doing that for.» «You scared her, Ya—that's all.» Yafatah sighed, staring at a passing happincabby. «I doon't understand why she be so scared of everything, Barl. I mean, she wouldna' have come to the city if Aunt hadna' ridden with us. I like Aunt—Aunt's not scared.» She paused. «I know I should be kind to me ma. But mostly I feel fierce angry with her these days. All I wanted to do was to see a bit of the city—on me own, you know. So I can have me own ideas. And if I run into trouble, then I run into trouble. A girl's got to have some time for thinking and dreaming. I canna' do that with me ma telling me how fierce bad everyone do be here in Speakinghast. Oh—what be the use?» Yafatah added miserably. «Even when she doon't be with me, I hear me ma's voice warning me about this and protecting me from that.» «Some protection is good, Ya— Yafatah whirled on Barlimo. «Not when it means I canna buy a pastry in a shop because the shopkeeper will take advantage of me, or worse, the cream filling might be bad from sitting out too long. By the time I think all these things, I doon't want to eat the pastry. I want to toss it at me ma!» Barlimo nodded. «So your mother needs to change. Aunt and Doogat are trying to help her do that right now, Ya. You must not foil their good efforts by sulking. You must come inside and teach your mother how to let you grow up.» Yafatah's eyes filled with angry tears. «She be the ma—not me. She should know these things already.» Yafatah crossed her arms over her chest. «I do be the child here.» «Oh. I thought you were a girl growing up—a young woman taking on responsibilities of caring for others besides herself.» Yafatah's face blotched with fury. «That doon't be fair. You put me in a corner. I canna' win. I canna' be a child, and I canna' be a woman. That doon't be fair.» Barlimo chuckled. «Welcome to that celebrated malady called 'growing pains.' It's when you aren't one thing or another for a while. And you feel real uneasy inside all the time. You don't