Read Online Sister Emily's Lightship by Jane Yolen - Free Book Online Page B

Marjo had turned away, too, and her voice got very quiet. “You may not wish to be what I am, but we are together. Forever.”
    â€œForever?” Selna turned back.
    â€œAt least as long as you live.”
    Selna was thinking so hard about that, she did not hear the sound. The first she knew there was a cat nearby was when he had launched himself, hitting her square in the back. Without hesitating, even as she was falling, she drew her knife.
    The Ballad:
    Ballad of the Cat’s Bride
    Do not go to the woods, my girl,
    Red ribbands in your hair,
    Do not go to the woods at night,
    For Lord Catmun is there.
    He’ll spring upon you silently,
    He’ll leave you there for dead,
    He’ll take away your virtue
    And leave you a babe instead.
    He’ll take away your virtue,
    And he’ll take away your name,
    And leave you but a weanling child
    To carry to your shame.
    Do not go to the woods, my girl,
    If you a maid would stay,
    Do not go to the woods at night,
    Go only in the day.
The Story:
    As Selna turned, knife in her hand, she thrust upward. The cat thew back his head at the same time as if trying to fight something behind him. Then he screamed—an awful sound—and collapsed on top of Selna.
    She pushed him off and stood up shakily. “What…?” she began. Then she saw the knife in the cat’s back and Marjo looking at her oddly.
    â€œLucky you drew your knife so I could draw mine,” Marjo said.
    â€œI don’t know what to say.”
    â€œThat’s a good start,” Marjo said. “Let’s skin this cat down quickly and go. It’s spring. There might be a mate.”
    â€œThere’s sure to be one,” Selna said. “But she’s probably laired up with kits.”
    That was the last they spoke, working side by side as easily and as silently as old friends. Or new enemies.
    When they were finished, another night was all but gone. They started on the path together, but the moon could find them only intermittently. Each time it disappeared, so did Marjo.
    When they reached the road at last, the moon was slowly setting behind the hills. It was long gone by the time Selna got to the gates of her Hame alone.
    Her mother was sleeping on Selna’s bed, her cheeks still wet with tears. Selna got in beside her and put her head against her mother’s back. “I am a woman now,” she whispered, loud enough to be heard, quiet enough not to waken anyone.
    Her mother stirred, turned in her sleep. A stray strand of white-gold hair fell across her mouth. Selna carefully picked it off and smoothed it back. “But that doesn’t mean I have to forget, does it?”
    Her mother woke briefly. “Forget what, dear?” she mumbled.
    â€œI will never forget her,” Selna whispered. She stood and took the guttered candle from the bedside, walked out to the hearth to light it. As she bent over the fire, a voice whispered in her ear.
    â€œI will never forget her, either.”
    Selna turned. And looking into her other, darker eyes, at last she smiled.
The Myth:
    Then Great Alta drew aside the curtain of her hair and showed them her other face, her hidden face. It was dark where she was light. She was two and she was one. “And so ye shall be,” quoth the two Atlas. “So shall all my daughters be. Forever.”

Journey into the Dark
    T RANSLATION FROM THE ALTAR stone at the great temple at Chichén Itzá, excavated May 14, 2030
    Let me tell you a story my children. When the young prince Ho ch’ok lay dying on his small bed, he had around him the four that he loved best. Kneeling by his head was his lady mother, the queen, who had pulled out all the pins from her hair in mourning and likewise the pin from her lip.
    His brother, the king-that-was-to-be, Qich Mam, sat by his feet; tears kept in check by the slow breathing he had been taught since a child.
    His sister, who was to have been the young prince’s bride,