The Dollmage

Do not pretend you do not know of what I speak. Do we not all fear the power that is in us to do good, to love, to make the world better? It is not our dark souls that frighten us. We are familiar with that part of ourselves. It is the glory parts, the singing, ploughing, dreaming, loving parts that terrify us.

Annakey Rainsayer, deep in her heart where she would not look, was afraid that she was powerful indeed. It was her light that frightened her, her ability to make unspeakable beauty in the world. As a young girl she had thought to win love, to make others better by making herself small. She had thought to find peace by making herself invisible. Foolish girl. Not that she was entirely wrong, for one can win a certain peace by being small and invisible. But Annakey could not be Dollmage because she was afraid.

It comforted my heart to know that Annakey was afraid of something, and I said thank you to God. He seemed cold to me, as if I had not gotten the point.

The next day I told her what God had told me about her. I thought to punish her for humiliating me, and almost I thought it had worked. She nodded and said, “Yes, Dollmage. You are right.”

How was I to know that she would learn from my rebuke? It is so rare. I did not anticipate.

“The story! The story!” the children complain.The children speak, but even the adults tire of my wisdom and wish me only to get on with the story. You are helpless before it. Poor. Poor. I weep for you, for soon we come to the part of the story that will drag down your heart.

Men were set to watch the village at night, and in the day they searched for the robber people in the lower parts of the mountain. So it was that Manal Masterhunter found the remains of Oda’s sheep Follownot. He found her bones and the ribbon she had been wearing, all beside a fire built and left by the robber people. Follownot had been cooked.

Soon after I heard the news, I found Renoa hiding in her mother’s root shed.

“Come, Dollmage Renoa,” I said. “You threw the sheep into the fire and now it is cooked. Your naming ceremony will be at the next full moon. Prepare yourself.”

Chapter 8

Inscription on the War doll:

Thabana Firstpeople had a son who nursed hard upon her, making her nipples bleed.

“What is blood ” she said, “so long as my child has milk?”

I see you tire of this never knowing.

Try to think of me for a change.

You, Greppa Lowmeadow, chafe at the length of my story. Your execution feast is eaten. Give us those baked eggs then.

Renoa worked hard the next day. When I wanted to rest, she said, “No, Dollmage, teach me more.Teach me everything.” Her hands were strong and wise. I announced Renoa’s naming day. The people relaxed a little, confident that the new, young Dollmage would find a way to rid us of the robber people.

That night, three sheep were stolen. Also two saws, a trowel, a ladder, five pitchforks, and a pig.

I took Renoa to the back room where the village doll lay under the sky blanket.

“Why is the sky blanket no longer protecting us?” I asked her.

“You ask me?” Renoa sneered.

I gripped the edge of the table and leaned over it.

“Hide us,” I said.

Fear stopped up Renoa’s mouth as she realized she had not the power to save herself. How could she have known that the story of the village was being made in another place, in broad daylight, and by other hands?

You villagers, in your anxiety and distress, could hardly eat that day, never mind attend to your labors. I do not criticize. It was understandable. A crowd of you came to my door.

“Why do you not protect us, Dollmage?” the fieldmaster asked. There were supportive murmurs throughout the crowd. “The robber people make our lives hard, and one day it will be impossible to stay in our valley. What are you doing about it? Will you let our crops be carried off? Soon it will be women and children.”

“How dare you question me!” I retorted. Bil Brokehoe cowered a little before me, which made me benevolent.

“Forgive us, Dollmage Hobblefoot,” said Norda Bantercross. “We are afraid.”

Everyone fell silent, then. To speak it aloud made it more real. I punished you with your fear for a time, and refused to comfort you. Then, I said, “Renoa will be named the new Dollmage at the next full moon.”

In your fear of the robber people, you had forgotten your uneasiness with Annakey. Furthermore, Manal, who everyone respected, had been talking.

“Dollmage,” said Norda, “we have talked among ourselves and discussed this over the common fire. Annakey has shown her gift, and so has Renoa. Who should be Dollmage? The one who made the sheep that was cooked? Or the one who threw it in the fire? The one who made the cow who was drowned, or the one who threw it in the water? The one who made the sky blanket that hid the village doll, or the one who put it over the village doll?”