Her hands moved in song, though she could not sing aloud. I thought it strange and beautiful. And I wondered who it was who gave the names to living things, even the unborn.
Father, his warriors, and many elders journeyed to Bald Mountain to make sacrifices to the Beast. The High Priest, Wolf Tongue, journeyed with them to be certain these prayers were heard. If Wolf Tongue prayed on behalf of the Panther Master, then surely a son must follow!
While the men were gone on their long pilgrimage, my mother grew heavy with child. One day, I remember, she drew me aside, and her hands were full of secrets.
“Starflower,” she signed, “you will have a sister come next full moon.”
“A sister?” I replied, horrified. “No, Mother. No, Wolf Tongue has gone with Father to the mountain. He will pray to the Beast, and surely the Beast will give you a son!”
But Mother shook her head. “Child, the Beast cannot give life. He can only crush it. He has no power that his worshipers do not confer on him, and even they, no matter how fervent, cannot grant him the power of life-giving.”
“How can you say this?” I asked. “This is blasphemy!”
I was afraid for her. If Father were to learn these secret thoughts dwelling in Mother’s heart, he would be forced to kill her. But perhaps he would never discover it. After all, men do not know the language of women. It would be a sin for them to learn it or to acknowledge that they understood it. Maybe she would be safe?
Mother must have seen these thoughts racing across my face, for she smiled. “Not blasphemy but truth. You will learn it yourself one day.”
I could not stop the tears that sprang to my eyes. If this was the truth, if Mother did indeed have a daughter and not a son, then she would still die. The elders would put her to death, along with the child. No woman who birthed two daughters and no sons could continue being the Eldest’s wife.
Mother’s face was peaceful; there was no fear in her eyes. This frightened me more. But she put her arms around me, holding me, breathing comfort into my hair. When at last she put me from her, she signed, “You must be brave, Starflower. And you must learn to search out the names of things as I have taught you. When you know them, you must store them in your heart. And one day . . .” She smiled and drew a deep breath before continuing, her hands shaking. “One day, you will speak those names aloud, and in speaking, you will be stronger than death or life-in-death!”
She placed my hands over her rounded stomach. I felt the baby moving there. “Promise me,” my mother signed, “that you will watch over your sister.”
She read the promise in my eyes.
Father and the elders returned before the next full moon. Wolf Tongue was not with them. But he had declared that the Beast, though unseen, had nonetheless heard their prayers. The Panther Master must have a son! The elders were confident.
I don’t believe I had ever heard a woman’s voice before that night. Perhaps I had and smothered the memory because it was too strange for me. But that night, my mother screamed and screamed, and nothing the midwife did could stop her.
Father prowled the opposite side of the dim, smoke-filled house, his body dark against the light of the fire. He saw me at last, crouched in a corner. I could not take my eyes off my mother. I hardly recognized her, so contorted was she in awful pain.
Father came over to me and hauled me to my feet. I do not think he intended to hurt me. He was too frightened himself to realize what he did. His face was gray and his teeth flashed in the firelight.
“Get out of here, girl,” he said. “Get out!”
I fled the house.
The hillside was black that night, for the moon, though full, hid behind thick clouds. The Eldest’s house was set high above the rest of the village, greater than all other buildings save the Long Hall. Light poured from the windows of the Hall below me, and I knew that the elders waited there for word of the Eldest’s new son. I could hear their brutal songs.
I sat in the darkness halfway down the hill, afraid to venture any nearer to the village, afraid to look back up at the house. Mother’s screams were dulled by distance, but each one hacked my ears, hewing at my sanity like a great hatchet.
Oh, Mother!
The moon broke suddenly through the darkness above me. Light poured onto the hillside around, like water rushing in spring rains. It startled me so much that I forgot, if only for a moment, the cruel sounds filling the night. A moment later, I could not have heard those screams or those raucous songs had I strained my ears for them!