Dragonfly Song (28 page)

Aissa wondering –

under the Lady's stare –

if it's safe to speak;

to ask in her new-found voice

if she can return

to live and work

with the wise-women –

and how much

of her gifts of gold

she needs to offer her mother

for that permission.

The Lady stares on

till Aissa looks down,

and spies a small snake,

a viper,

coiling under Fila's stool –

Fila sees it too,

screams in fear,

jumps onto her stool

waving her arms

and nearly falling.

The Lady pales

but her voice is stopped –

she's asked for a sign

and cannot prevent

what the goddess wills.

Aissa has not asked for a sign

and she has seen

too much death –

she sings the snake,

her voice high and clear

till the viper slides

under a crack in the wall.

The wise-women and the Lady

freeze with shock,

and Fila

falls off her stool.

‘Aissa!' says Kelya.

‘You found your voice!'

‘Aissa?' says the Lady.

‘My imperfect,

firstborn child?'

She takes Aissa's hands,

studying the small white scars

till Aissa's rage burns bright

and her voice comes loud.

‘My hands were strong enough

to win with the bulls

and free the island

from the pain of tribute.

The gods of the bull land

cared for what I did

and not my scars.'

‘The gods of this land too,'

says the Lady,

‘but I didn't understand.'

‘If I'm not firstborn,' says Fila,

‘no wonder I

could never sing.'

‘The snakes always knew,'

the Lady says sadly,

‘as I knew that you

were too gentle to rule;

it's clear that your gifts

are with herbs and healing.'

Anger flares in Aissa again

because Fila

has had everything:

beauty and kindness,

all the love she could want –

now she's going to be

a wise-woman too

and there will be

no room for Aissa.

‘I'll return with the ship,'

says Aissa,

‘find my place

as a priestess in the palace

or a dancer with the bulls.'

‘Your place is here,' says Kelya –

and how can Aissa say no

to old Kelya who loves her –

but she cannot stay

where she isn't needed.

The Lady lifts

Aissa's hands again

and kisses the scars.

‘The goddess's plan

has been harsh but clear –

you are the one

who will sing the snakes

and the sun to rise,

when I am old

and it's time for the firstborn

to rule in her turn.'

But in this land

Aissa is No-Name,

the cursed child,

the bad-luck girl

and her fear is greater

than facing the bull –

she doesn't want

to be a slave,

spat at or stoned –

but to be the Lady

is too giant a leap.

Then she remembers her anger

for all the No-Names,

the not-perfect,

unwanted,

those denied a voice;

the boys who can never own land,

no matter how they care for it.

Only a ruler

can sing those changes.

She looks into

the Lady's face

as if she is

just a woman she knows

like Mama

or Kelya

or Mia –

and sees her own tears

reflected in

her mother's eyes.

‘I will stay,'

says Aissa,

bowing her head

for her mother's kiss.

The Lady leads her

out to the Hall,

and Luki calls:

‘Aissa the dragonfly,

bull dancer,

snake singer,

home at last,

where she belongs.'

No words

to say what she feels,

so Aissa sings –

sings of the girl

who lost her fear

and found her voice

when she faced death

on the horns of a bull,

and now is ready

to face her life.

Her voice floats clear

through the square and town,

singing the people

who stop what they're doing

to stand before her

with hands on heart.