The Dollmage

“She could not do it. She is not the Dollmage. I am.”

Annakey was indeed running to her secret place. If she made her contest doll and it did not win, she knew that she would be made to promise not to fashion any doll ever again. She touched the clay bear and the clay wildcat she had made. Perhaps an apronful of wild animal dolls could not win the contest. She decided then that if only she had time to do one thing, she would keep her second promise to save her people. As soon as she decided that, she found she had kept her first promise to her mother: that she would be happy.

Why did she desire above all to save you? I told you once it was because she loved you as a people for keeping your promises. That is only part of it. It was also because she saw that she must—that no one else could do it for you, that I was old and Renoa was careless, and all of you depended upon her ability to devise a plan. She wanted to save you because she could, and because her own life depended upon it.

Ail afternoon Annakey worked with clay and other things that her secret bower provided. This was her plan: Around her village doll on the large, flat rock, she would place dolls of the robber people. Then, around each of the dolls of the robber people, she would place clay bears and wildcats and wolves also. She would summon the wild animals with her dolls to chase away the robber people from our village. She would warn the villagers to stay in their houses for a few days, and when she was sure the robber people were all gone, she would remove the wild animals from around the village model.

She had worked a long time when she heard someone running through the forest. Manal burst upon her secret bower.

“Come,” he said. “Dollmage said I must fetch you.”

“Manal, I am not yet finished.”

“It is dusk, Annakey, the whole village is looking for you. The robber people have taken Oda Weedbridge. Even Dollmage is frightened. The wolves are baying, and cats are screaming from every mountain. Dollmage is standing on Weeper’s Stump, sending people farther and farther afield until you come. I am worried that someone will stray too close to the robber people looking for you, or be eaten by wild animals.”

Annakey shook. She glanced up at the sky. Had so much time passed? She had no contest doll, and she had not yet saved her people. Her only hope was to go to Dollmage, instruct the people to hide in their homes, and ask for a little more time. Manal and Annakey held hands as they rushed back to the village. The wolves were howling.

As she walked into the village, you who had been looking for her stopped your search and followed her. Almost the entire village was at Weeper’s Stump when Annakey arrived.

As soon as I saw Annakey, I raised my hand and the villagers fell silent. “The robber people have taken an old woman. Next time it will be a young woman, and then children. The people demand that I name my successor. We can wait no longer, Annakey. Where is your contest doll?”

Annakey held out her hands to me as if she were hoping a doll would appear there by magic. “Give me more time. Please.”

“No more time,” I said. “What have you been doing?”

Annakey looked up. “Dollmage, come and see. I have no contest doll, but if you see the work of my hands at a secret place of mine where I have devised a plan to repel the robber people—”

“No,” said Renoa.“The time is up. By her own admission, she has no contest doll.”

All of you murmured, as you remember well, and I held up my hand for silence.

“What secret place?” I asked.

“In the forest, where the river comes out of the mountain. I have made my own valley doll there, and a village doll in it. If only you will give me a little more time, I can rid us of the robber people.”

Again you murmured. Again I silenced you. It was as I suspected. “It is a long way for me to walk, but I must.” It was Annakey’s story, now. I was resigned.

Renoa strode forward. “No.”

“Out of envy you say so,” Manal said to Renoa.

“You think Annakey is good,” Renoa cried. “I will prove to you that she is evil. She made this!”

Then Renoa held up the Evil doll that Annakey had made.

It was hideous now, having been twice drowned and bitten by animals and burned and buried.

“I found it by the riverbank,” Renoa said. “Prim will witness that Annakey herself made this monstrosity.”

I stared at the doll, and all the village stared at the doll, and Annakey stared at the doll. For a long time, the only sound was that of the swans trumpeting on the river.

“Did you make this?” I asked at last.

Annakey looked at Renoa. She wanted to lie, but to lie is to break the promise of words, and Annakey would not do that. In that moment, her heart bled, wounded, and in her stomach the worm made her stomach sick. Her arms and legs were as heavy as deadwood, and a spider in her brain bit at the backs of her eyes so they ached and watered.

Greppa Lowmeadow stepped forward then. “It is the doll of Annakey’s heart, for she has broken her promise to marry my son, Areth. Deny it, if you can.”