The Wittering Way (16 page)

“Hand me the hot water, please?” I asked Yewsy. I glanced behind her and saw the luminous little Fey wearing a lovely gown of embroidered blue silk and white lace.

“You are very, very beautiful, Jinni,” I said with deep sincerity as I took the kettle from Yewsy.

She tittered shyly and tucked her tiny chin. Yewsy smiled and I backed over to the worktable, which was laden with numerous crocks and urns of who knew what. I opened one and found sweet grass cakes inside. I helped myself.

“Should you be doing that?” Yewsy asked taking a seat across from me.

“I don’t know but they are really good.” I licked my fingers. “Are they for the celebration?”

“Yes. Have you seen Ronat and Ava? They should be here by now.”

“No, I haven’t. Occil? Have you seen my sister and Ronat?”

“How’d you know I was here,” it said, poking its head out from between two cushions that had been set against the far wall.

“If Jinni’s around, you are, too,” I said.

It appeared on the table in front of me and shoved a small crock of acorn butter out of the way. “They’ll be here soon. I’m waiting for the call.”

“What call?” Yewsy asked, frowning. “What are you up to, Diarmin?”

It was a portrait of innocence. “Me? Nothing. I just do as I’m bid, that’s all.”

“I know a secret,” Tsisi said, wafting by and waving to us.

Occil scowled at her. “Don’t you have someplace you need to be, wind moth?”

I looked at Yewsy and sipped my tea. “I think there’s something going on that we may or may not want to know about.”

“I agree,” Yewsy replied. “Are you going to ask or should I?”

“Let us pretend that they don’t exist,” I suggested. “So, what’s all this?” I indicated the piles of linens, furniture and food littering the entire room.

“Well,” Yewsy sighed. “Some of it is Occil’s contribution, but also, join members have been dropping off gifts for the new joins.”

We fell silent and I studied her face thoughtfully. “What are people giving a Diarmin and a Fey? I’m not sure we’ve ever had such a join before.”

She laughed and shook her head, rising to neaten the room. “There’s a little bit of everything here, I think. For Ava and Ronat, too. I’d say that they all have more than enough now.”

I rose and worked alongside her until the common room was presentable for guests. We also made sure that they would have room to move around if any came inside.

“Are you okay with Ava and Ronat joining?” she asked as we stood back to study our handiwork.

I turned to her. “It’s good to have the house full again,” I said after a moment of thought.

“Good. Occil’s gone,” she said, her face expressionless.

It took me a moment to catch up with the change in conversation. “Have you been studying Jana lessons,” mumbled. “Gone, where?” I knew it hadn’t gone far, as smitten as it was with Jinni.

Tsisi buzzed by my head and Afton swept her aside playfully. “Dontcha want to know my secret?” she asked, righting herself and grinning at me.

I wanted to be grumpy, I really did, but how does one stay grumpy when faced with such joy and happiness.

“Yes, Tsisi. Tell us your secret,” I said wearily, lowering myself to one of the plush chairs that had materialized almost overnight.

“Well, a few suns ago, I saw Ava and Ronat out walking with Occil. I knew the Diarmin was up to no good so I walked a ways with them. You know, following. Then, right before my eyes they vanished. Just poof! Gone. I was very upset, thinking that creature had done something horrible to my dear, dear friends. I was inconsolable, I was.”

Her face scrunched up, and I expected her to sob. Instead, she sighed and continued. “I saw the creature walking back by itself but it wouldn’t tell me anything about where it had taken them. I was sure it had dumped them over into that horrible Brinc land but it wouldn’t own up to doing that. So, I searched everywhere for them—”

“And here we are,” Ronat said, stepping into the doorway. She looked around, eyes widening. “Well, it looks as though there really is going to be a party here today.”

“Ronat!” Yewsy said. “Where have you been?”

“Ava and I took a little journey,” Ronat said. She continued to stand in the portal, which seemed odd.

Yewsy studied Ronat with a cocked head. “Where did you go?”

“Just to visit one of Ava’s old friends,” she said.

Uneasy, I rose to my feet. “Ronat! Is Avapeony all right? Where is she?”

“I’m here,” Avapeony said, stepping into the room. She had a large basket in her right hand.

“More food?” Yewsy asked.

Occil passed by and nudged the basket. “Some would say so,” it muttered. “Jinni, my love, where are you?”

“Well, we’re glad you are here. Guests are coming soon. It should be a fun day.”

MayApple entered the cottage, her arms laden with wooden bowls. “It’s always a good day when we add someone new to our joins. Where can I put these, sweet daughter?”

“Here, Mother, there’s space here.” Yewsy led MayApple past me and to a small side table.

“Cleome, are you happy about the joining? About the expanding of our join?” Avapeony took a seat in the chair next to the hearth. Ronat moved to the table and began looking in some of the covered crocks. I sat next to Avapeony, positioning myself comfortably on the hearth.

“I am. It is good to have a full house again,” I said. I took her hand and patted it. “I want you to be happy and you certainly need more than just me to be that way.”

“Or Occil,” she said, laughing.

“Definitely need more than Occil,” I agreed, chuckling.

“So, I have a present for you,” she added.

I sat back, surprised. “A present for me? No, no, this is the day for you and Ronat, not me.”

Avapeony lifted the basket and handed it to me. It was uncommonly heavy.

“Well, I guess it’s for all of us.” She glanced down, drawing my eyes to the basket.

I folded back the feather light covering and gasped. There, in the basket, tiny fist shoved in its mouth was a pale blue Jana with a long shock of bright white hair that came down and covered her little body. She looked up at me and blinked bright green eyes.

“Oh, Ava, look what you’ve done,” I breathed. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Ooooooooh,” Tsisi cooed in happiness. “You birthed a Jana! A Jana, like me!! I didn’t know your atrebud was gonna be a Jana!” She fluttered close to the atrebud and they clutched hands together. The atrebud looked up adoringly and we could practically see the timeless connection they forged in that moment. “Oh, that’s a wonderful name, Omie, of the wind.”

Voices sounded outside and I knew the party had already started out in the clearing.

I looked at Ronat, who had approached and was looking on the scene lovingly. “Omie?”

“You saved us. We wanted to name her after you,” she said simply, shrugging.

I turned my head and found Avapeony looking at me with fondness. I smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to hold her?”

“Umm, I don’t know. I held you when you were little but Mother...” I stopped, missing my mother so much that my heart hurt. She would have loved this.

MayApple touched my arm. “Hold her, Cleome. Go ahead. Hold her.”

I reached into the basket and gingerly laid a palm against Omie’s side.

“Be very careful,” Tsisi cautioned. “She’s much littler than a Meab, you know. We are a very delicate tribe, made of wind and Fey dust. We can’t even have a fammie because the wind takes it. It’s actually unusual for a Meab to request a Jana. I remember tales from many centuries ago when a Luti requested a Jana. I mean a Morri like my father is big enough, a forest sprite, but a Luti? They are earth sprites and one of them mothering a wind sprite? I don’t know about that.” She shook her little head doubtfully. “I do know that Caress, that’s the Luti’s Jana, served the wind tribes well and was always loyal to both—”

I sighed as I lifted the atrebud. She smiled at me and blew a bubble with her little pouty lips. I straightened her tiny gossamer wings and she fluttered them at me with a little giggle. I smiled back at her and blinked my eyes.

“Please, please tell me you can’t talk yet,” I said.

THE BRINC CLAN had pulled away from their association with the Witta Meab much during the past century so their absence wasn’t as noticeable as it could have been. When caught up on my lessons with MayApple, I found myself hiking to the bridge spanning the Felshea River quite often. I would stand there, staring west, at the pearly, undulating surface of the veil, and wonder what the Brinc were doing over there. Were they happy? Were they still dependent on their machines? Had they and their fammies perished? All I could see across the top of the partition was the very tip of the citadel tower. It told me nothing.

There was much sadness at first. We felt horrible about the Luti who had not been able to escape. When we shared what had happened with the other Witta joins, they gathered in the center of the village and shared stories about their positive interactions with those of the Brinc. Then, just a few suns later, life carried on just as always. There was less strife, too.

No more raids of vulnerable villages.

No more trees taken from the Morri without permission.

No more extensive meetings trying to mediate two opposing sides.

I soon began to fully understand that our decision, painful as it was, had been the correct one.

One morning, at sunrise, I rose and moved to the common room to bless the Lares and the Fey. Occil was curled up on the stone hearth, snoring loudly. I shook my head, wondering why it didn’t pick a more comfortable place to sleep. It certainly had many more options to choose from.

I quietly put the kettle on and worked a little salamander magic to boost the flames without disturbing the Diarmin. I moved to the table and pulled Mother’s grimoire off the storage shelf and placed it on the worktable. I rested both palms on it, hoping I could feel a bit closer to her. I realized suddenly, in that moment, that it was finally time to grieve. Without any thought about it, the tears came. And they came. I cried silent, harsh tears, arms crossed over my stomach, rocking back and forth in my sorrow. I envisioned my mother. My father. Their fammies, who were my parents, as well. They were all gone. And for what?

It still made no sense.

Sometime later, spent, I opened my eyes and wiped my face, finished with sorrow. I needed to look forward now, though I would always carry my parents with me in my heart. They would always be my first join. I took a deep breath and straightened my spine.

Just then, I heard a powerful humming outside the window. Lares and Fey awoke and stirred against the walls. Occil sat up and looked at me sleepily. I rose and moved to the window opening. They were there, in the clearing before the cottage, all facing me. There were eight of them now—eight Witta Mothers. Two had been added since the veil had gone up. I suddenly realized what was happening and my heart swelled anew. I raced to the door and stepped onto the front steps.

Endless eternal, powers of the night

Endless eternal, powers of the day

Endless eternal, by dusk and by dawn

Come to us now, come to us now

We who live in time

We who live and die

We who cross the veil

We who live in time

Are here and are there

Flow through us now

Flow through us now

The chant rose on the morning air, stirring the colorful cloth of the Mother’s morning robes as they lifted their arms high. Earthrise spun around them and their fammies joined and made a circle above their heads and hands.

Earth, air, fire, water

Spirits open your hands to us

Earth, air, fire, water

Spirits open your hearts to us

Earth, air, fire, water

Spirits open your souls to us

Earth, air, fire, water

Spirits lend your power to us

Guardians of the dreamtime, shapes and forms

Roots of the mountain, silent and deep

Earth spirits dreaming, awaken to our touch

Shapers of the crystal, shapers of the leaf

shapers of the valley beneath our feet.

Cleome Widdershin

Cleome Widdershin

Cleome Widdershin

When they said my name the third time, earthrise woke in me, took me over, and I lifted up and floated down the steps and into the clearing. I found myself joining with them in the ancient dance of the mothers, chanting along with them, the chant morphing into a joyful song of elemental life. Earth my body, we chanted as we stomped the ground beneath our feet. Water my blood, we sang as we cupped our palms and swept them as if scooping the cooling water from our rivers. Air my breath, we whispered as our palms came up, fingers spread as if blown by a powerful wind. Fire my spirit! We shouted as our arms lifted high above our heads and our palms clapped together.

We eventually fell silent and the earthrise gradually settled around us. Each Mother filed past me and kissed my forehead as she moved silently into the forest. I watched them go, breath rasping in my lungs. Power, magic power tingled in my hands and feet and so many things were now clear to me. So many questions had been answered, questions I had never even thought of asking. One thing was sure.

I was now one of them. A Witta Mother.

Nat Burns is a full-time novelist with a background in journalism, creative writing and medical publishing. She is from Virginia, near Washington DC, but now lives with her partner, Chris, in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

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