Tree singer, p.4
Tree Singer, page 4
She glanced at her mother, who met her eyes. Mother’s jaw was set in a manner Mayten had seen before—when her mother was giving birth and refused to cry out in pain. Her da had tears streaming down his face, as did the twins and Taiwania.
Taiwania, crying for her?
Oleaster’s jaw looked like granite, but his eyes shone as he looked up at her. Only little Wollemi gazed at her with unabashed joy.
A low murmur rose as the crowd shifted restlessly. Solis raised her hands for silence.
“I know you are wondering,” she began, “why a tree singer has been called to go on a quest and why choose three so young?”
“Yes, why?” someone shouted.
Mayten’s hand started to raise on its own. She had to interrupt Solis, had to tell her she would most definitely not be going on this quest—
“It is through our oldest and most gifted tree singer, Castanea,” Solis said, gesturing at Mayten’s mother, “that we became aware of the blight attacking our land. The trees have been our most reliable messengers and will, I dare say, continue to be so. Therefore, a tree singer is needed on this quest. Although Castanea was eager to join the quest, the council has decided against it. We need her leadership here at this time. She has nominated her daughter Mayten to take her place.”
Mayten stared down at her mother in shock. She didn’t know what made her angrier, that her mother had volunteered to leave them and go off on some quest, leaving her family—with Mayten caring for the babies, no doubt—or that her mother had suggested Mayten go in her place.
Their gazes locked. Her mother was trying to communicate something. “Don’t let me down? Don’t embarrass me? Don’t make them regret my decision?”
Mayten clenched her jaw until it ached. She couldn’t go. She didn’t know how to help. She only knew how to sing three of the seven levels.
But she would not let her mother see her knees shaking.
She breathed in slowly through her nostrils and shifted her gaze back to Solis.
“All our experienced questing teams are out gathering information about the blight. These three initiates come from families with excellent gifts in their callings. All three have completed their first three years of training with excellent marks. And, just as importantly, have been friends since birth. They know each other. They trust each other, which is a quality that can take questing teams years to develop.”
It felt strange to realize she had been discussed by the council. But not as strange as Solis’s next words.
“The king himself has requested our help—immediately.”
Again, the crowd shifted and muttered. Mayten glanced at her friends who looked as worried as she felt.
Had the king ever requested the help of her clan before? Of any clans? Yes, he relied on their tribute and in exchange provided protection, laws, and order, but to ask for help . . . to personally request help?
It chilled her bones to think their kingdom—which had always been strong and safe—had somehow become vulnerable.
A shudder ran down her back as she suddenly understood why the twins had trekked all that way.
They had come to say goodbye.
Everything tumbled into place—her father’s sadness and her mother’s avoidance. They’d known.
And hadn’t told her.
The clan leader raised her hands once again and silence fell. “To offset the team’s inexperience, the quest will be led by Adven himself.”
Mayten straightened in disbelief as Tray’s uncle, scruffier than ever, bowed to the clan leader.
The crowd cheered as Mayten groaned under her breath.
Solis gracefully inclined her head, acknowledging Adven’s bow. “He has, at my request, returned prematurely from a different quest to the south and assures me he is eager to serve this call. We thank you, Adven,” she said, inclining her head once again.
“We thank you, Adven,” the crowd echoed, the words growing to a roar.
Mayten’s stomach squeezed tight, feeling as though someone had punched her. This couldn’t be happening. She began breathing through her nose as the warmth drained from her face. She would not faint. Not here in front of everyone.
Solis turned to the initiates. Mayten felt she might be sick as the leader’s deep brown eyes held her gaze for a long moment before shifting to Tray, then to Cather.
“What say you, Initiates?” Solis’s voice rang clear and strong. “Will you accept the call to this quest for your clan and for your king?”
Tray jumped forward in his excitement. “I will!”
A ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
Cather stood tall. “I will.” Her voice quavered but sounded resolute.
Silence stretched as the leader turned again to Mayten. Solis’s eyes were steel gray, she realized. Eyes that asked no question.
Only one answer would be acceptable to the clan leader . . .
And the rest of the clan.
Heat flushed Mayten’s face. What would happen if she said no? Her eyes flicked to her family. Her mother’s face was set, as if willing her to be strong. Her da and siblings brushed tears away.
But it was little Wollemi’s face that caused her to pause. His gaze held pure happiness and pride. In his eyes there was no greater honor for his sister than to be called a quester.
She glanced at Cather, who seemed to be pleading with her to say yes. Taking a steadying breath, Mayten straightened her shoulders. “I will.”
Her voice squeaked like a mouse, but it seemed enough for Solis. The clan leader raised her arms high and bowed toward them. “Thank you, Initiates.”
“Thank you, Initiates!” roared the clan, erupting into loud cheers and shouts.
Chapter Seven
Da’s gentle fingers pulled the plaits of Mayten’s braids tight as he twisted her curls up off her neck. It had been years since he had offered to braid her hair and she leaned into his hands, longing to cuddle up in his lap like she had when she was little.
Instead, she sat on a stool as her da stood over her, deftly braiding her hair in front of a large looking glass he had imported from Sapia.
They were in her parents’ bathing room, a room unique to their home. It had been Oleaster’s idea to use the irrigation system he’d invented, channeling water from a wooden trough that lay in the creek above the homestead through bamboo pipes down to their home and through the walls into a large wooden barrel opposite the bathing room door. A similar barrel stood outside the kitchen wall.
A fireplace in one corner held a large kettle where they warmed the water, then added it to the spring water in the huge tub Oleaster had talked Da into special ordering from the traders.
“You really should forgive your mother, you know,” Da said. “She was just trying to do what is best for the clan and for her family.”
Mayten eyed him in the mirror and said nothing. She fingered the boot embroidered next to the tree on her apron.
It had been two days since the calling ceremony, days spent in frantic preparation as the clan leader urged them to hurry. Da had traded flowers for a backpack, her sisters gathered nuts and dried fruit for her supplies, and even Wollemi had given her his lucky rock to take on the journey, the rock with white lines running through it in the shape of a star.
When she was not packing, she visited with her twin sisters, catching up on the news from the Ocean Clan, laughing at their stories. Taiwania laughed with them, everyone trying hard to ignore the impending departure.
Everyone but her mother . . .
“There,” Da said, giving her hair a light pat.
Mayten gazed at her reflection. He had parted her hair down the middle from forehead to back and wrangled her twisty hair into two plaits that started in the front and curved around each side of her head, ending in two braids.
Her stomach trembled. She gave Da a shaky smile, feeling more like a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves than a quester.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, trying to sound convincing.
He nodded and bent to kiss the top of her head, quickly brushing away a tear. It was time. The sky grew lighter outside the window. They were gathering in the clan square at morning bells. The questing team would leave from there.
They’d been briefed yesterday. She, Tray, and Cather along with Adven and the woodsman had stood before the clan elders in the community lodge. The meeting room was small with the elders’ six chairs lining one side. Mayten stood next to Cather, trying to keep her knees from shaking.
Solis began. “You all know why we are here. Chief Singer, please brief this team.”
Her mother stood and Mayten looked down at her feet. She didn’t care if it made her mother look bad. She felt betrayed and wasn’t about to pretend otherwise. Why had she been kept in the dark about this?
Why was she the one who had to leave home?
“The trees are in distress,” her mother said, her voice quivering. “The cause is . . . unknown. None of our ancient stories tell of a situation such as the one we now face. This is why we need more information and we need it fast.”
Mayten’s head swam as though the world had tilted slightly.
Her beloved trees were hurting.
She grabbed Cather’s hand. They were being sent into unknown danger, with someone in charge that Mayten didn’t trust.
Worse, she was expected to do a job she wasn’t qualified for . . .
~ * ~
The rest of the day had passed too quickly. She’d barely slept.
And now it was time.
She slid from the stool, checking that her leather boots were tied tightly. Her new socks, knitted by Zigba, made the boots feel snug and would protect her feet from blisters. She wore her sturdiest climbing clothes and carried a change of clothing in her pack.
“Ready?” Da asked.
Mayten nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
Da led her out to the porch where the rest of the family waited. The gray dawn seemed to match her dread.
Oleaster stepped up, carrying her pack. He held it out as she slid her arms into the straps, then fastened the waist strap, making sure it fit snugly around her hips. Zigba had knitted soft pads that covered the leather straps, keeping the pack from chafing her shoulders.
A bedroll had been tied to the pack’s bottom, a tight roll of wool that seemed thoroughly inadequate. The thought of leaving her soft bed and the grim faces of her family made her throat tighten, threatening to cut off her breathing altogether.
Her older brother tapped her under the chin with his index finger and she looked up. His smile gave her courage. Anatolian sniffed the pack as if it were a stranger. He rubbed his head against her hip. How could she leave her dog? How could she leave any of them?
The family turned together and began the slow walk down the hill toward town, Anatolian trotting alongside. Mayten felt a small hand press into hers and looked down into Wollemi’s little face. His freckles stood out against his pale skin like tea leaves floating in a cup. His small forehead wrinkled up at her, concern etching his face.
“Are you scared?” he whispered.
Had it been only three days since her father had asked her the same question about the Leveling Ceremony?
The apprehension she’d felt then seemed like a flea compared to the mountain lion now threatening to tear her apart with terror.
Her world had changed since the ceremony. Three days ago, she’d felt confident of her future, certain of spending the next two years as her mother’s initiate.
Now, she felt like a tree severed from its roots. Would parts of her be cut off and shipped to unknown places? Would she ever be whole again?
But she couldn’t say that to Wollemi.
“I am . . . a little scared. But if you think of me every time you look at the stars, and I think of you every night, we will still be connected. You will be with me on my journey, don’t you see? Nothing can really separate us.”
His face relaxed and he skipped a little skip as he walked. “That’s a good idea. And I’ll know if you’re safe because I’ll feel it from the stars.”
“That’s right,” she said, and wondered if Wollemi would really be able to feel her through the stars. Did he talk and listen to stars the way she talked and listened to trees?
Her stomach knotted as they approached the community square. It was not as congested as it had been for the Leveling Ceremony, and there were no tables lined with food, no celebratory atmosphere. But there were still a lot of friends and family gathered to sing the questers off.
More people than had come out for any other questing team, of that Mayten felt certain. Was it because three young ones were going or because help had been requested by the king himself?
Cather and Tray stood off to one side, surrounded by their families and friends. Adven looked up as Mayten and her family approached. He eyed her without smiling, then looked away as if to dismiss her.
As far as she knew, a tree singer had never been on a quest. Was he mad he had to take her along? Or did he have something against her, personally?
Dread filled Mayten’s heart as Solis climbed the stairs to the stage, and, suddenly, she felt like she carried the weight of the entire clan in her pack.
Solis raised her hands, quieting the crowd. She wore normal brown pants and a sleeveless shirt instead of her ceremonial gown, yet her bare arms seemed to carry as much authority as the gown. “Questers, say goodbye to your families.”
Mayten’s blood turned to ice. Things were happening too fast. She had been hoping that the king would send a messenger and say the team was no longer needed, that the blight had been healed.
But no messenger arrived.
Large hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into a powerful hug. She breathed Da’s scent of pipe tobacco and fresh soil and her eyes burned.
He pulled back and looked at her with shining eyes. “You are in my heart, Mayten.”
“You are in my heart, Da,” she said, her voice tight.
Oleaster hugged her next, but when he said, “You are in my heart, Mayten,” his voice broke a bit and her heart squeezed in pain.
She could only nod, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.
Taiwania came up, looking almost shy. So different from her normal, arrogant approach.
“Next moon, at the gathering, I’ll dedicate a song to you,” she promised as she hugged Mayten quickly. “You’re in my heart.”
She moved away and Mayten realized her sister didn’t see her coming home by the next moon gathering. A shiver ran down her arms.
The twins stepped up together.
“When you return, you might have new babies to hold,” Acerola said.
“We’ll stay until you return,” Zigba added.
Mayten hugged her sisters gratefully. Her sisters’ husbands stepped in a bit awkwardly. Each gave her a quick hug and moved away.
Then came the little ones, Aster and Maple, too young to understand what was happening. Would they even know her when she returned?
If I return.
She shoved the thought away and bent to little Wollemi.
“You are in my heart, Mayten,” he said, trying to be brave. But his trembling lips betrayed him.
“You will always be in my heart,” she replied. “And I’ll meet you at the stars every night.” She hugged him hard against her, breathing in his little boy smell of milk and unwashed ears.
Then her mother stood before her. She looked exhausted, her expression hard.
“You are in my heart, Mayten,” she said, giving her daughter a stiff hug. She leaned close and spoke words only Mayten could hear. “I know you are mad at me and I don’t blame you. But hear this, I would not have recommended you for this journey if I did not have complete confidence in you.”
She pulled back, tucking a small book into Mayten’s hands. Mayten recognized it at once. It was the brown, leather-bound book her mother used during training, a book traditionally passed down from one tree singer to the next.
At the end of their training.
It should have been two years before Mayten’s training was complete. She gripped the book hard. “You’re wrong, Mother. I’m not ready. How can I help them when I don’t even know how to feel with the trees? I need more time.”
“The trees will teach you, Mayten. Listen to the trees. You’ve always had the talent. I know you can do this.”
Mayten looked at her dust-coated boots as her mother continued. “I’ve decided to send Anatolian with you.”
Joy surged through her as she glanced up, searching her mother’s eyes. “Truth? You’ll let him come with me?”
Anatolian’s cold nose tickled her palm.
Her mother nodded. “He will protect you and remind you that you are not alone. Your family’s heart goes with you and we will be here when you return.”
Mayten studied her mother’s lined face. Mother believed they would come back, that she would come back. She felt her anger ease just a little. Anatolian was an important part of their family’s safety; he had run mountain lions and bears off the homestead more than once.
It was a sacrifice to send the dog . . . and to entrust her with the book. “Thank you, Mother.”
Solis’s voice rose again. “It is time,” she said. And began to sing.
“As you journey, we go with you . . .”
The rest of the clan joined in. “You don’t venture out alone.”
Adven beckoned. Mayten lifted her hand in a brief wave to her family, then touched Anatolian’s head. The big dog followed her to where Adven stood apart from the crowd, waiting.
Cather stumbled up and grabbed Mayten’s hand. Her usually cheerful face was blotchy and red. Mayten glanced at Cather’s parents. They wept without shame. She was their last child.
And she was leaving them.
Adven turned without a word and headed away from the village, his friend Hunter striding quietly by his side. Mayten had not been formally introduced to the man. She only knew he was to be their woodsman.
She had seen him around, of course. Their clan rarely entertained strangers. But he was older and Mayten had never spoken to him. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he walked next to their new leader. His skin was even lighter than Cather’s. Red freckles covered what she could see of his skin and his hair was the color of rust.
