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Authors: Wendy Orr

BOOK: Dragonfly Song
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24

MEETING THE BULLS

‘So you think jumping bulls is going to be easier than being a priestess?' Mia demands.

Aissa shakes her head. She hadn't exactly expected a welcome, but – maybe she had. Mia had seemed so sad to see her leave.

‘You've got a lot of training to catch up on,' says Niko. ‘Look how soft you are!'

‘But your hair's nice,' says pretty Sunya. ‘Can you show us how you did it?'

‘Aissa's going to be far too busy getting fit to worry about hair!' Mia snaps, and makes sure that she's right. Aissa has her own program to build up strength while the others are fine-tuning skills.

‘Doesn't matter how beautiful your handstand is, if you can't hold it on a bull's horns,' says Niko – it's his favourite saying, Aissa thinks; he seems to say it every time she does something well. ‘And for that, you need a grip that could crush clam shells.'

Sometimes Aissa thinks that Mia and Niko can't forgive her for missing half a year of training. On better days she knows that they can't afford to – because the bull won't.

Mia and Niko are too proud to ask exactly why she's come back, as if changing from acrobat to priestess and back again happens all the time, but they're as curious as everyone else.

‘You sang the bull!' Luki exclaims. ‘That's why he pulled away!'

Aissa nods.

The acrobats are desperate for miracles. It had been frightening to see the queen of bull dancers slip and fall. Her leg will never be strong enough to dance again – but they'd all seen the bull turn away from killing her.

Their faces glow with sudden hope. ‘You can do that! You can save us when we're in the ring!'

Aissa's never felt so cruel. She slowly shakes her head.

‘Do you really think the gods would allow that?' Mia demands.

‘Don't see why not,' someone mutters.

The mood's turning against Aissa – she has to tell the whole truth. It's better than their believing that she doesn't care enough to save them.

She draws a finger across her own throat. Everyone's seen enough sacrifice to know what that means.

‘Fair enough.'

No, it's not!
Aissa thinks.
Not the whole thing
. She trills her fingers out from her mouth.

‘If you sing,' says Luki.

Aissa draws a circle encompassing all of them, and repeats the throat-cutting sign.

‘We'll
all
be killed,' several finish.

Standing in the middle of the group, seeing their eyes and hearing them say it is infinitely worse than hearing it from the Mother in her brightly painted chamber. How can all their lives depend on her? There's only one solution. Aissa tilts her head, offering her throat. Better to die now than cause the death of everyone else.

‘Don't be ridiculous,' says Mia.

‘Just don't sing,' says Niko. ‘You don't talk – how hard can it be not to sing?'

No one can guess how hard. Aissa doesn't understand it herself.

The threat makes it even more difficult to slide back into the group. The acrobats aren't just stronger and more skilled than when she left, they're a tight-knit team. Only eleven girls and fourteen boys remain. They know each other's moves and weaknesses, and what they don't know can be discussed, because they've got a language now. Partly the palace language, and partly the bullring's own.

The crowded dorms are now spacious rooms; everyone has a bed, not just a sleeping mat, and a space for their belongings. Aissa's wolf cloak hasn't been moved. She wraps herself in it every night, hoping it will help her reclaim her courage.

Because right now she doesn't feel brave. She doesn't even have the comfort of a cat sleeping under her chin
at night – the Mother's white cat seems to know that Aissa's disgraced, and hasn't followed her here.

And in three quick turnings of the moon, it will be the great spring games. She's not as strong as she should be, not as skilled as she should be, and she's sure the others don't quite trust her. Not even Luki.

Aissa's wrong – it's himself that Luki doesn't trust. The reason he's still alive is that he's absolutely determined to free his island from tribute. Every time someone is trampled or gored in the dusty bullring, or sent broken into slavery, Luki sees his younger brothers and sister.
That is not going to happen to them!

For the six months that Aissa was away being a priestess, it was all his responsibility. Now she's sharing it again, and Luki's afraid that will let him fail. He wants to survive just as badly as everyone else, but it's the island that has given him that extra drive. That extra luck. Every morning before training starts, he stands out in the ring to gaze at the mountain in the distance. It doesn't matter that on these winter days it's often covered by clouds – for those moments, he transforms it to his own island's mountain, and pledges to return and free it.

Spring creeps closer. The moon is full, shrinks to blackness and grows full again. Frogs sing night-time choruses. The air smells sweeter; the first cranes fly back from their winter homes. And tomorrow the dancers start practising on Dapple.

Dapple is one of the five bulls from the palace herd that are used for training. They're not quite as big as the wild ones caught in the woods, but Mia and Niko warn that sometimes they're even more dangerous. These bulls have played the game before and know what the dancers are planning.

At the last minute Mia decides that Aissa's still not ready to leap. ‘Better to stay alive longer and be ready for the real thing,' she says. Aissa can be a runner, flapping a cape to line the bull up for the others.

She's terrified that she will sing him away before he can hurt someone. Knowing that she'll have to let him is the heaviest burden she's ever borne. Nightmare bulls haunt her all night, goring and trampling.

So even as she's waving her cape, driving the bull to the centre, she makes herself imagine all the terrible things that could happen. Which isn't hard to do, because the bull is even bigger now that she's in the ring with him.

He's going to trample Mia! He'll gore Luki. He'll toss Sunya and break her bones . . . He's going to turn around and charge me!

Dapple does try to do all those things. Mia leaps out of his way, and so does Luki. Sunya is tossed right across the ring, and two dancers leap to catch her. Aissa flaps her cape like the other runners, and drives the bull away.

She doesn't sing. For the first time, she realises that she can control it. All she has to do is pay attention.

The only injury for the day is a girl who falls at the bull's feet. Dapple tramples her hand as she lands – Aissa wouldn't have had time to call if she'd wanted to.

Niko and Mia spend the evening going over all the other near misses. Idiocies and clumsinesses, Niko calls them. Aissa thinks he's secretly quite pleased with their performance.

They spend the next two days training in the ring, ‘So there won't be quite so many idiocies next time,' says Niko. Then a rest day, then the bulls again – Brownie this time. That's the pattern, but it still rains often, and they don't work with the bulls when it's raining.

‘You lot are clumsy enough without slipping in the wet,' says Niko.

Mia tells the girls privately that they don't train with the bulls when they're menstruating. And when Niko tells Aissa that she's ready to try leaping a real bull the next day, Aissa is bleeding.

She finishes her period just in time for the games. She still hasn't leapt a bull.

25

THE GREAT SPRING DANCES

Spring is the most important season; spring determines if enough food will be grown for the rest of the year. And so the spring gods need the most gifts to nourish them: the most sacrifice; the most blood.

The most dances
, Aissa thinks, but it's not that simple. Mia and Niko don't tell them the whole truth until the day before. Thinking about it for too long might just drive them crazy.

‘The first game,' says Mia, ‘is with the herd bulls.'

‘Which one?' asks Luki.

‘Can't you hear?' Niko snaps. ‘She said bulls – the five you've trained with.'

‘You'll all go in together,' says Mia, ‘and so will the bulls.'

‘Who will run them in?'

‘Anyone with the gold to pay for the honour.'

So they won't know what they're doing,
thinks Aissa.
The bulls will be crazy by the time they get to the ring.

‘You know these bulls; you know their habits,' says Niko. ‘Dapple gores to the left. Brownie shakes his head before he tosses – hold tight or you'll be gone. Moonsnip's plain crazy. Mudface and Bigfoot are pretty straightforward.'

‘Will they fight each other?'

‘Not likely. They've run together since they were calves. But they're bulls and it's a crowded space – nothing's guaranteed.'

‘Except death,' someone mutters.

Three dancers have died in the last days of intensive training; nine more have been injured too badly to heal in time. Twelve are left to distract, leap and evade five confused, angry bulls.

‘Three survived last year,' Niko says. ‘It can be done!'

Three is the best we can hope for?

Niko looks at their faces and gives up on his pep talk.

‘The first dance is about survival,' he says more grimly. ‘Remember that the dead can wait.'

‘Look after the living,' Mia corrects, but it's too late. A shiver goes through the dancers.
The dead. Will I be one of the dead left to wait?

‘The second dance is about beauty. If the first dance offers blood, the second offers praise. Being alive at the end is not enough. Every leap needs to be the highest, strongest, most graceful that you can do. The gods demand perfection: only your best will win your freedom.'

‘And that of our homes,' Luki mutters.

‘Pray to Earthshaker, god of the bulls,' says Mia. ‘Pray to your own gods. And sleep well tonight so that your skills are sharp.'

They all pray, but sleep isn't so easy.

Honey cakes for breakfast –

Aissa can't believe

she could ever close her lips

to honey cakes

or figs and cheese,

but her belly is churning

too hard for hunger,

though Mia and Niko

are fussing like mamas

begging children to eat.

‘Just a bite,' they say,

‘and a sip of milk.'

They check that wrists

are strapped tight and strong,

shortening the cords

of mama stones around necks

leaving no room for a horn to catch;

they see that plaits are neat,

eyes painted,

lips rouged

as neatly as a priestess,

because whether the dancers live

or die under the bull,

the goddess wants beauty –

or so say the Mother

and the king –

and Aissa hopes

if the gods see perfection

maybe they won't need

so much blood.

Then Mia and Niko

kiss them each

on the top of their heads

and for the last time lead them

to the palace

and the bullring in the court,

because even if

they're alive tonight

the dorms will no longer

be their homes,

and Mia and Niko

will start to prepare

for next year's dancers

as the seasons cycle.

Still far from the gate

they hear the crowd

roaring like waves

pounding on cliffs,

the tiered seats packed,

people leaning from windows

or perched on roofs –

everyone in the land

who can possibly fit

and pay their way.

The dancers wait

behind the fence

for a troupe of jugglers in the ring

tossing bright balls high –

a cheer for the skill

of a perfect catch,

a hiss for a drop –

and oiled wrestlers

who throw and fall,

win and lose

with no threat of death,

and more men boxing,

the crowd ready now

for blood,

cheering when a hard fist

splits a face

and teeth are spat.

But the jugglers,

wrestlers and bleeding boxers

are as unimportant

as gnats

to the waiting dancers.

Some pray,

some are frozen,

some twitching,

but all are together:

twelve sisters and brothers,

Aissa finally

a part of a whole –

even though they won't be

whole much longer.

She names them in her head

as if that prayer

could keep them safe:

Luki, Sunya and Kenzo,

Milos and –

‘It's time,' says Niko.

Running into the ring

standing together

to salute the balcony,

the rows of young priestesses –

who wave at Aissa –

then the crowd on every side,

and say the words

Aissa understands now

though she can't speak them.

‘We offer ourselves

as gift or sacrifice

to please Earthshaker,

bull of the gods.'

And to the goddess,

bringer of life
, thinks Aissa,

for the earthshaking bull

is no god of hers.

From the balcony box

the king trumpets

the strident roar

of the sacred conch

then pours wine

from the bull-head jug

to the great stone horns

below the box,

splashing red like blood

onto the sand.

‘Praise for Earthshaker,' says the king.

‘Let his dance begin.'

In the sudden hush

the dancers look at each other,

make the good-luck sign,

as hooves thunder,

a man screams

and the bulls gallop in

leaving a runner tossed and gored

before the entrance gate,

bleeding out his life.

Aissa wonders

if he still thinks

it was worth the gold.

The gate is locked

the time for thought has passed –

the courtyard is

a chaos of bulls.

Dapple bellows,

collides with Moonsnip,

horns clatter,

and then they both

turn on Milos,

who doesn't have a chance

to leap

or any chance

at all.

Someone tries

to pull the body aside

but Aissa doesn't see who

because Brownie,

snorting rage as he runs,

is charging at her.

The bull comes fast,

time moves slow,

she grabs his horns,

gripping tighter than she knew she could

as he shakes his head

and her with it,

as if he can hardly feel

the girl doing a handstand

on his horns.

He tosses her

into a flip,

and for just that moment,

standing free on the back

of a charging bull,

before springing to land

safe and upright behind him,

she feels the god-power

burning through her.

The energy so strong

she could almost vault

back over the bull again –

but from the corner of her eye

she sees Sunya

flying off Dapple,

as if she hasn't remembered

what Niko promised –

that Dapple always

gores to the left –

she lands off-balance

but Aissa reaches her

with a steadying arm

and they both move on.

Their other partners

do the same,

but not all

are so lucky.

Someone is dashed

against the great stone horns –

a second libation

of blood for the gods –

Aissa doesn't see who

and can't let herself wonder.

She never sees the crowd,

never hears its roar –

she has eyes and ears only

for the bulls

and dancers.

Her fear is gone,

her body alive as never before,

in this wild dance

of life and death.

‘Look after the living,'

Mia said,

and now Aissa understands –

but the living are fewer.

Moonsnip waits

to trample dancers

as they leap

from another bull,

and Brownie is goring

the broken body

of someone who used to be

a friend.

As she sees,

Aissa's fire leaves her.

She knows they will never

be free;

but will die in the ring

under these maddened bulls,

or at best be wounded

and saved as slaves –

and even in the midst

of this death and pain,

Aissa doesn't want

to change it for slavery.

Now Mudface is coming,

but his gallop slows

to a lumbering trot,

head swinging

instead of charging –

and she leaps aside

instead of over.

Brownie finishes goring

and stands over his victim

as if he can't see

the living dancers –

the bulls too

have had enough.

One by one,

they weary to a stop,

heads hanging low;

Dapple next,

Moonsnip last.

The conch horn sounds.

The rich young runners

jog in through the gate,

circling wide around the bulls,

flapping capes to drive them –

not so wild as they ran in –

out and back to the herd.

The healers' men

come to carry the wounded

and the dead,

until only

Aissa and Sunya,

the tall boy Kenzo

and Luki are left.

Grief washes over them

and not just for the fallen,

but they take these moments

to breathe

and touch hands,

trying to rebuild

strength and courage

for this last dance

with the wild king of the bulls.

He gallops in,

piebald brown,

not so much bigger than the rest –

though it's hard to tell

the exact size

of a bull

intent on charging.

But there's something about

the way he swings his horns,

that says this one

is far more ferocious

than his herd-tamed kin.

‘I'll go first,' says Luki,

and draws the bull to charge him,

with Kenzo standing back

and a girl to each side.

Luki grabs the horns,

but the bull tosses left like Brownie,

and instead of a flip

Luki one-hand cartwheels

down the bull's neck to his tail.

This time Aissa hears the crowd

loving Luki

and his skill.

The bull charges Kenzo

and the dance rushes on;

they leap

one by one –

and though the bull is still fresh

the dancers aren't;

when he charges Sunya,

her flip is neat

but she lands

flat on her back.

As if he knows

his end is near,

the bull wants more,

charging Kenzo again,

who cartwheels along his back

as Luki did at the start.

Now Aissa is in front –

but just as she's ready

to reach for the horns,

the bull sees

Sunya lying still

and veers towards her.

‘Sunya!' Aissa screams with her mind,

and Sunya jumps up

so fast that she startles the bull

and he turns back to Aissa –

who's not ready,

not balanced

as she grabs his horns;

she sees Luki and Kenzo

and Sunya, more slowly,

run ready to catch her –

knowing the bull

will throw to the left.

But as Aissa braces

to spring with the toss

the bull shakes his head

and Aissa feels

what her friends can't see –

that this time the bull

is throwing right.

Her body's still poised

to be thrown to the left

as her hands

slip from the horns;

if she could shout

her friends could run

in time to catch

but Aissa's voice

is not ready to save her.

Her heart sings goodbye

to Luki and

her brother and sister of the dance

and she catapults

like the rock from her sling

that killed the wolf;

she tries to tuck

into a roll

but her arms and legs

are wrong,

the ground is nearing,

and the layer of sand

will be nothing on stone.

Aissa closes her eyes

against coming pain

and lands

safe in the arms

of Kenzo and Sunya

and Luki
–

while the bull,

chest heaving, mouth frothing,

stops and stares.

‘We heard you,' says Sunya,

‘like a voice in our hearts.'

‘Now leap!' says Luki,

and as if they've planned it,

he lifts Aissa to his shoulders,

gripping her ankles

so she stands as she did

in the acrobat dance

three seasons ago.

Luki tosses her up –

Aissa flies free,

somersaults in the air –

and lands on the bull,

hands high.

And as she leaps off

the sweat-soaked

quivering bull

folds his knees

and sinks to the ground.

The screaming crowd,

standing, cheering,

throwing gold and flowers

just as they did

for the real bull dancers –

but Aissa and her friends

are too tired to care

too tired to know

that they

are the real dancers now.

They want nothing more

than to hide and rest.

‘Stay!' orders the Mother,

as she crosses the courtyard

behind the bull-headed king with his axe

carrying her sharp bronze knife

and golden bowl

to fill with blood.

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