“Is this why they sent me, Wolf-mother? Is this my life?”
“Only those who sent you know why, M’urgi. Only they know what your life will be, though I have seen a shadow on it…”
“What sort of shadow?”
“One that kills. Someone wants you dead, M’urgi. Sometime. Not yet, but sometime. In the meantime, there are more chants for you to learn, and more herbs for you to pick, and many futures for you to see…”
I laughed, without rancor but without amusement, either. My hands and face were black with soot from the fire. My hair felt as though several generations of birds had been nesting in it, leaving their lice behind. The hides that warmed me stank to high heaven. I had been with the old shaman woman for almost ten years. Whatever my unknown benefactors might expect of me in the future, I sincerely hoped it involved bathing at more regular intervals.
And, ah, it would be nice to see Ferni again.
“You’re thinking about him,” said the old woman in a minatory tone.
“I have seen myself with him elsewhere, Wolf-mother. In a dream I saw myself among the tribes, many tribes, all gathered together. And he came out of darkness into light, carrying something mysterious. Then I blinked, and when I looked up, I saw my own face, three times. One me a lot like me. One me much older. And one me looking out of a man’s face.”
“Thinking of him, dreaming of him, that’ll get you killed,” said the old woman.
“How long since you’ve had to warn me of that, Mother.”
“A year or two,” she replied grudgingly. “Maybe more.”
“Maybe many more. You speak of dying. I have sworn to fulfill your burdens. When I have done so, then, perhaps, I may think of him? Find him in that place I dreamed of, among the tribes.”
“Then,” came the reply, a whisper in the night. “Only then. Perhaps.”
I Am Margaret/on Tercis
On Rueday, all the Judsons are present in the Ruehouse, from me, Dr. Bryan’s widow, Grandma Mackey, right down to Mayleen’s daughter, Emmaline, youngest of the fourteen who’d been born to Mayleen, the ten who had survived. Though I have been Ruing for close to forty years now, I am still unable to confine my ruing to Rueday. Ever since Bryan died, I have stood here each Rueday, between my daughter Maybelle and my granddaughter Gloriana, eyes tight shut, hands twisting at one another, body trembling like a branch of autumn leaves in a chill wind while I rue having let Bryan sacrifice himself for me. Not that Bryan is the only thing I rue. I rue the twins, oh, the twins, my two sets of them, Maybelle’s one set, Mayleen’s seven sets—not even including all the ones miscarried or born dead. Oh, for how many years have I rued, and still I wish I could go back and undo it all.
In the pew behind me, Mayleen was ruing having a sister and a sister’s family who were so rotten to her. Marriage and motherhood had not changed Mayleen; they had merely confirmed her misery. Billy Ray Judson was probably ruing that his brother had ever been born, for Billy Ray was as Billy Ray had ever been, jealous and hateful.
The seven Billy Ray Judson children who still lived in Rueful would be spending their ruetime as they did most of the rest of their time. Each Rueday I told their names over to myself. The eldest, Joe Bob, had left home to work on the Conover Farm, down The Valley. Perhaps he was ruing the fact he had not joined his twin in volunteering for the army. The second oldest twins had left years ago. Ella May had applied for membership in the Siblinghood of Silence and been accepted. Janine Ruth, her sister, had also applied and been refused, so had moved up to Repentance, which had more scope for her talents, which I refused to think about. Only one of the third set of twins had lived, Benny Paul, who was probably spending ruetime planning how to get Jeff, Gloriana’s brother, into trouble. Trish, the survivor of the fourth set, who was simple but not asexual, was probably thinking of whatever boy was currently making use of her. Sue Elaine and Lou Ellen had made up the fifth set, and Sue Elaine was without doubt ruing the existence of her cousin, Gloriana Judson; while little Orvie John and even littler Emmaline, each sole survivors, rued the fact they had been given no breakfast this morning and probably no supper last night and were so hungry it was very hard to be quiet. The moment I laid eyes on them this morning I knew the money I had most recently given their mother had not been spent on food! Poor babies.
I knew them so well. I did not know them at all.
Next to me, I knew that Maybelle was resolving to be more patient with her twin. James Joseph Judson, Billy Ray’s half brother, Maybelle’s husband and Gloriana’s father, was probably ruing not chastising his son Til, who was becoming more and more like Benny Paul. Til’s twin, Jeff, was conscientiously ruing whatever iniquities Til and Benny Paul had got him into most recently. He always rued saying yes; he always said yes because Til was his brother.
Maybelle’s daughter, barely pubescent Gloriana, usually had a lengthy list to rue, I’d seen her look up attentively when Pastor Grievy asked us to rue “…the great failing of our people in the
