The Dollmage

In my rage I could not speak. Norda cleared her throat.

“Could it be that God knew in advance of our trouble, that he knew it would be trouble enough for two?”

“Two is divisive,” I said. “There can only be one in a village. The law is clear.”

Annakey spoke from the edge of the crowd. “Do not fear,” she said gently. Her voice was soft, but everyone heard. “We will save you from the robber people. I promise.”

Making such a promise was as absurd as promising her mother that she would be happy. Now Annakey had made two promises in her life.That is two too many. But the people were calmed by her words, as if there were a power in them.

“She can make no such promise,” I said.

“She is not the Dollmage,” Renoa said.

Renoa and I were not willing to stake our reputations and what we took as our good graces with God by risking such a rash promise.

“So, if Renoa is the Dollmage, then we are doomed?” someone called. There came murmurs, then a woman began to freely weep, and her baby to wail. Another woman fainted.

Renoa said sharply, “I will do what I can to protect you, of course, but we are in God’s hands.”

“A contest,” someone said, and I saw that it was Manal.

“A contest, a contest,” took up the crowd.

I saw that they would not settle. “I will do as you say,” I said above the clamor. When they had quieted somewhat, I said, “There will be a contest to which all of you may be witness. Whoever of the two girls can make the best doll, a doll with power in itself, that girl you must support unquestioningly as the new Dollmage. The other will have to swear and promise before the entire village that she will not use her powers again forever, or be banished alone to the mountains. It will be decided at the full moon.”

At this the crowd began to disperse. When they were all gone, Renoa stood before Annakey and slapped her face. Annakey did not back away.

“You had no right,” Renoa said fiercely to her. “How could you promise to save them? Only the Dollmage can save them, and that is me.”

I said, “You have brought embarrassment upon yourself, Annakey”

“I have obeyed your counsel, Dollmage,” she said. “I will no longer be afraid of what is in me. The story of the village will have a happy ending. I have decided.”

I watched her in silence as the welts rose on her cheek. I took a secret comfort in the promise she had made to save the village. I did not hear her practically confess that she had stolen the story of the village from my hands.

“Go away from me,” I said.

She did not move. “I must learn what I can from you.”

I took a deep breath. “Well,” I said, “now there must be a contest. Renoa, you may begin now to make your contest doll. Annakey, for your presumption, I have work for you to do. It will keep you too busy to attend the village dance tonight.”

Ribb Wifebury had wanted to build a potting shed in his garden. I made it, and placed it in the village doll, in the center of the Wifebury garden, beside the sundial in the middle of the long daisies. I set Annakey to cleaning up the mess I had made in my creation, and to add Ribbs muddy boots beside the chopping block. I went about my business. When I returned in the evening, she had cleaned up the mess, as well as dug up a bucket of rutabagas for breakfast. I hid my pleasure and surprise, until I saw what she had done with the potting shed.

Besides the boots, she had made for the potting shed doll a miniature coil of rope, a broom, an ax, a workbench, and a bag of seeds. There were tiny seedlings on the workbench, and for the garden, most marvelous of all, bees. Almost invisible they were. Tiny bees in the garden—they would make the Wifebury garden the most luscious in the valley. How had she learned to do such beautiful work?

I did not know that she had also found time to make the doll of a house for Manal, a warm house for winter, a cool house for summer, a sound house to last the life of a man.

“It is marvelous,” I said, touching the tiny seedlings that lined the window of the potting shed.

“Thank you, Dollmage,” Annakey said. She was glowing with joy to be free finally to do dollwork.

I looked at her long, then. Could it be that she was winning my heart? How different they were: my Renoa, who tamed deer and fed hawks from her hand and knew the mountain as well as the valley; and Annakey, who loved hearth and home and all the art of it.

The miniatures she made worked their magic on me, and I said, “Annakey, you have done enough today.You may go to the dance.”

Annakey smiled. “Thank you, Dollmage.” She went to the cupboard and took out of it a lovely little cake, decorated with icing flowers. “I made this for Renoa, so that we might be friends. I will give it to her at the dance.”

“Why do you do this? Renoa struck you,” I said.

“If I were to make the village story, it would be with all of us at peace together,” she said firmly.