idol - open topic (write-off)

[sonreir]

Ma


The path to Ma's house was little more than a trail hacked through the undergrowth. I commented on this near every Sunday we went out to visit her, Miles and Tess and I, carrying our twice-monthly basket of supplies and making an effort to talk with her.

"Don't complain, Anna," Miles said, before I could mention it this visit. "Be glad that she's still got her wits about her, unlike Simon's ma, Agnes."

I bit my tongue and didn't say anything. Ma was a good twenty years younger than Agnes, and it wasn't a fair comparison, but Miles would hear none of it. He was the eldest, and he felt a certain pride in that. He understood what his role was, what it was that he was supposed to do.

"I just don't understand why she makes it so hard to come out here," said Tess fiercely, taking my side. "It's enough to insist on living in the middle of the forest, but this..."

"You know she doesn't like the town, not since Da passed," Miles corrected her. "And she doesn't want to think she needs any help. She wants to think she's independent, like."

Tess and I lapsed into silence at this -- Tess because she was trying to think of an argument (I knew her well, and I could tell), and me because I didn't want to get caught in the middle of it. I had my own thoughts about Ma's choosing to pick up and move to the middle of the forest, acting like she was some kind of hermitess, and though Tess agreed with me, her agreement was the kind that was likely to lead to more arguments down the line. If I let on that I was on her side, she'd try to call on me to convince Ma to move to town with her and her husband, Jacob.

"She could at least let us hire Patrick Mueller or one of his sons to clear the path," muttered Tess sullenly, pushing back more branches.

"With what money?" asked Miles pointedly. "I don't see you and Jacob offering to help."

Sensing that the argument was about to start, whether I'd will it or no, I cut in: "Isn't that the cabin ahead?"

There was a curl of smoke from the chimney, and I could just make out the whitewashed walls from the dense forest growth.

"Yeah," said Miles. "That's it. Come on, Tess, let's get this over with."

He walked forward confidently, across the small clearing that Ma kept free of brush and undergrowth, and rapped on the cottage door. "Ma!" he shouted. "It's us -- Tess and Anna and me, Miles!"

There was an unpleasant noise of wood against wood as Ma lifted the bar from the inside, and then it swung open.

"Come in," she said, same as always.

Like every visit before, I wondered why she looked so sad.


Miles and Tess and I grew up knowing little about our Ma. What we did know was vague. She'd grown up outside of our small pocket of the world, in a fishing village on the north coast. Both of her parents had died when she was young, and after their death, she'd made her way south, working at one job or another until she'd come here and met and married Da.

We knew a lot about Da. His side of the family had been here for generations. The shop that Miles had taken over had been standing on that spot for over a hundred years. Our family had made the villages' shoes for longer than anyone could remember.

Ma was a mystery, a blank spot on the map, but a mundane one. She'd answer questions, if asked, but her answers were always dull.

"What did you do before you met Da?" might be met with, "oh, worked."

We knew that she'd been working on one of the holdings outside of town, planting and tending the fields, before they married. It was how they'd met -- she'd needed a new pair of boots for planting, and Da was the one she bought them from.

"I was captivated by her laugh," Da had always said, whiched earned incredulous looks from all of us. Our Ma? Laughing?

Da had been the kind of man who could find the humor in everything. He was warm and loving, so different from our quiet and reserved Ma. If we ever needed anything, we went to Da. It was only when he wasn't available -- because he was in the shop or out having a drink with the other men from the village, as he did once a week -- that we'd go to Ma.

Da was close to us, interested in us. That closeness was missing from Ma. She was pleasant enough, but you got the feeling that she would have offered the same words and actions to a stranger. She was distant, as absent as Da was present.

I'd thought, though never said, that it was a shame sometimes that it had been Da we lost first, not Ma. It was a cruel thought and I hated myself for having it, but I knew that Tess and Miles felt the same.

He'd made us promise to visit her, before he passed. We'd all agreed readily, and after his death, I held Miles and Tess to it.

I knew, if I didn't, that they'd never think to visit her again.


Ma waved us into the cabin, and Miles immediately began asking the usual questions: did she need anything, was she well, was there anything we could do?

I looked around as he asked. The cabin was a simple two-room affair. Ma had a bed in the back room, with a straw-tick mattress that Tess and I helped her stuff once a season, and in the front was a rough-hewn table and chairs (acquired from who-knew-where), and the hearth and oven built of river rock and clay. Everything was kept neat and tidy: there were starched curtains hanging in the windows, and though there was little in the way of furnishings, there was no dust anywhere. An old jam crock, the lid long since broken, was on the table, with a neat bundle of heartsease standing in water.

She doesn't need anything, I thought wearily, as Miles asked. She never does.

Ma lowered herself into a chair, as Miles continued talking, telling her about what was going on in town, how the shop was doing. Tess had news too -- Jacob's brother was returned from a trip to the south, and had brought everyone gifts -- clove-studded oranges, from some region I'd not heard of.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Ma looked to me. "You," she said. "Anna."

I straightened. "Yes, Ma?"

"Do you have news?"

I was reminded suddenly of being in school again, in the one-room village schoolhouse. I felt as though I'd just been called on by the teacher.

"No, Ma."

"Hmm," she said, and lapsed into silence again.

I sighed and resumed slumping against the door frame, studying the mud on my boots and listening as Miles picked up the threads of conversation and began talking in earnest about the new ideas he had for stitching the shoe leather. "Da was working on it before he passed, and..."

Ma interrupted him suddenly. "If I did have something I wanted of you, would you have time to do it?"

I glanced up as Miles and Tess exchanged a meaningful look.

"What is it you need, Ma?" Tess asked.

She rose from her chair, walked into the back room, and returned with a small paper packet, the paper brown with age.

"I have a package that needs delivering," she said. "Personal delivery, mind, by hand. Up north, the outer isles."

Miles and Tess exchanged another look. I saw Miles open his mouth, probably to point out that it was ridiculous and why couldn't she do it herself, and I knew that Tess wouldn't be far behind. I also knew that Ma had never asked us for anything in the time since Da's death, that she was fiercely independent, and that whatever it was must have been important, or she wouldn't risk asking.

"I'll do it," I said quickly, before either of them could respond. "Just tell me where it needs to go, and I'll find a way up there."

Ma nodded at me. "Knew I could count on you."

I tried hard to keep my face neutral, my voice even. I found it helped, with Ma, to adopt the tone that she used. "Who I am taking it to?"

"There is a man," she said. "An...old friend. His name is Denys Rathbone. Give him the message and he'll know what to do."

I hesitated. "All right."

She pressed the envelope and a small purse into my hand. "If you leave tonight, you'll just make the ship."

"All right," I repeated, and that was the end of the visit. Ma nodded at me, bade Miles and Tess goodbye, and wished me luck on the journey.

We hacked our way back through the underbrush to the village without talking.

At the edge of the woods, where the trees thinned into fields and the path joined the main road, Tess stopped me. "You aren't really going to go, are you?"

I reached into my apron pocket, felt the weight of the envelope and the purse. "I said I would."

"Anna," she started, and I braced myself for the barrage of useless advice that I was sure was to come.

"Yes?"

"Be careful," she said.


I made my way north, following the directions Ma had given. It was exactly as she had said. I wondered how she knew -- if she had not planned it; if it wasn't something that she had wanted to do herself, only to change her mind.

I took a carriage to the port city. From there, I bought passage on a ship, and spent the entire journey seasick. I'd never been in anything larger than a rowboat; this was something else entirely, and the journey was unpleasant.

After we landed, I asked for help finding Denys Rathbone, showing the packet Ma had given me.

"Ah, you want to see the wizard," said the dockworker I approached. "That's easy, then. His tower is half a day's walk from here."

The wizard? I thought, and wondered if Ma had known where she was sending me. Aloud, I agreed with him, and asked if he could give me instructions on where to go.

He drew me a map on the back of the packet, and after making sure I understood it, pointed me in the direction of the main road, and wished me luck.

I had never met a wizard before, or anyone who handled magic. It was uncommon outside of the north, and in our village, there were no magic handlers. Some of the older women said that they had the Sight, but Da had always joked that none of them had so much as successfully predicted rain when there were clouds to the west. No one in town took magic very seriously. We knew it existed, but wizards and witches were far and removed from anything we did.

I didn't know what to expect, as I made my way to the tower. Ma hadn't told me that he was a wizard, only that it was important that her message -- whatever it was -- be delivered in person.

I wondered how she knew him.


The tower was as described: made of rough-hewn gray stone, weathered and dilapidated, with a slate roof that was missing panels, here and there. There was no door that I could see, and no windows visible from the ground. An apple tree grew next to it, and there was a neat garden outside, everything planted in tidy rows and labeled with small signs as to what each row contained -- familiar vegetables and herbs. It wouldn't have looked out of place in our village.

On the side near the vegetable garden was a small paved path, leading up to a great granite step, and what I recognized as a bell-pull.

That must be the way in, I thought tiredly. Let's get this done.

I pulled gently on the cord.

I could hear a tinkling noise from inside, and then the sound of footsteps.

"Coming!" a man's voice shouted. I heard him fumble with what must have been the door-latch, and then there was a great scraping as a large door, made of stone and indistinguishable from the rest of the tower, quickly swung open in my direction.

I stepped back in alarm, clutching the packet in my hand. "Wizard Rathbone?" I hazarded a guess.

The man standing in the doorway was tall and lean, with shaggy dark hair streaked with grey and a beard that was badly in need of a trim. He didn't wear robes or anything that I thought a wizard would wear -- rather, he was dressed in something Miles might have put on to work in the garden, raggedy brown trousers and a green shirt that was covered in patches.

"That depends," he said, "on who's asking."

I sighed and straightened. "I have a message for Denys Rathbone, sent by my ma -- my mother."

He eyed me, my travel-stained blouse and skirt, the muddy boots I wore, and held out his hand without a word. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, tipped it into his palm.

"Oh!" he said, surprised. His expression changed, relaxed. "Your mother is Helena."

He ripped the packet open and read the letter inside, written in Ma's strong slanted writing. There was something else, too -- a ring had fallen from the envelope when he tore into it.

Rathbone straightened.

"Well," he said.

I waited patiently. It was what I was best at, waiting. Waiting for the silence between Miles and Tess, when I could slip in a word and prevent a fight. Waiting for Ma to say whatever it was she was going to say, so that I could smooth things over and end the visit on a happy note. Waiting, at the inn I worked in, to be told what rooms were to be made up for the night.

Miles and Tess were loud, impatient. They demanded what they wanted from life and took it with both hands. I was quieter; I waited to see what the options were and made my decisions carefully. They took after Da, and I took after Ma. I waited, I didn't ask questions, and I did what needed to be done to keep the peace.

"Thirty years," said Rathbone, not to me. "Thirty years, and now she's sent word. Better late than not at all."

He glanced at me, almost as an afterthought. "You," he said. "Helena's girl. Did she tell you anything else? Another message, to go with the letter?"

I laughed hollowly at the idea. Ma, tell me anything? "No."

The wizard shook his head. "Can you picture your mother's house clearly in your mind?"

"Her cabin?" I asked, surprised. "Yes."

"Do so," ordered Rathbone. "Shut your eyes and think about her -- cabin."

I thought about asking why, what it was that he was planning to do, but realized with a jolt that it didn't matter -- I could tell already that he wasn't the sort to explain, and the answer was likely to be meaningless.

I closed my eyes and thought hard about the cabin. I pictured the table with its jar of heartsease, just the way it had been a week ago.

Rathbone reached out and touched my hand. "Keep thinking on it!" he said, as though I had any intention of stopping.

"Here," said Rathbone.

There was a sudden sharp sensation, a wrenching, and I felt worse than I had during the entirety of the sea-journey.

I fell to my knees, clutched at the ground before me, and tried not to be sick.

"It takes some that way," said the wizard, not unkindly. "Now."

He muttered something, and my nausea vanished.

"Thank you," I said uneasily, rising slowly to my feet. I glanced at where we were, and realized, with sudden horror, that we were at the cabin. "You..."

"I've saved you a week's journey, girl."

I didn't ask you to, I thought. I wondered if this was why Ma had given no instructions for the return.

The door creaked open.

"Denys?" asked Ma, stepping out into the clearing.

"Helena!" said Rathbone brightly. "My lady! Are you ready?"

I blinked at Ma. "Lady?"

Rathbone glanced over at me. "Child," he said, clearly shocked. "Don't you know who your mother is?"

I looked from him over to Ma, and back again. "No," I said.

Ma sighed heavily. "Come inside; I'll make tea."

The wizard looked over at me, and I felt that I knew exactly what he was thinking.


Ma had been born in the north. I knew that.

What I did not know was that she had been a witch.

Her parents had died when she was young, and she had been adopted by a wanderer, who taught her magic. Basic spell-casting, at least at first, and when he realized that her skills lay beyond what he could teach, he sent her even further north, to the outer isles, where she studied under a mage. There, she had learned everything he knew and beyond, consulting the ancient texts that he had to learn everything she could.

There was another wizard there with her, at the same time: Rathbone. He was a lord's son, arrogant and spoiled, and he had resented her -- at least at first -- for he had come to the mage before her, and prior to her arrival, he had been his star pupil.

Eventually, they grew fond of one another. They challenged each other and grew together.

They studied the ancient texts, and in them, they realized that there was a way to gain immortality, to halt death itself. The cost was dear, but no dearer than any of the other magic that they did, and it appealed to them for its challenge.

They drew lots. Ma was the first -- she would undergo the ritual first.

It took days. Once it was done, they tested it: Ma took poison, prepared by Rathbone. There was an antidote, too -- they were not so foolhardy as that -- but they wanted to see.

When nothing happened, they knew it had worked, and Rathbone asked to undergo the ritual, too. He would become immortal, and he would make her a queen, for he wished to rule beside her, and with their combined power, they would have no difficulty in taking the throne.

Ma realized, when Rathbone said this, the mistake that she had made. She had no desire to rule, no desire to do anything besides perhaps work as a court magician for some minor lord. She realized, in horror, that she had damned herself to a lonely life, for anyone that she loved, besides perhaps Rathbone (and she did not love Rathbone), would grow old and die, leaving her behind.

She did not want ultimate power. She wanted to be ordinary, to lead an ordinary life, but what she had taken as a gift she realized quickly was a curse.

She fled from Rathbone, down to the south, where she took ordinary jobs. When Rathbone wrote, she did not answer. Eventually, he realized his mistake, too, and sent her an apology -- the last letter -- with his seal and a note that, should she ever desire it, he would seek her out and help her in any way he could.

I took all of this in quietly as the tea steeped.

"Did Da know?" I asked.

"It was the first thing I told him," said Ma. "He knew and he loved me anyway."

"I married too," said Rathbone. "My wife died some years ago. I have been waiting for your Ma's letter a long time. I think I know, Helena, what it is that you want."

"I think you do," Ma agreed. "I haven't done anything in over thirty years, Denys. I need your help. I need you to lift it."

He smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes. "You could have done it without thinking, when we were children."

"Yes," said Ma, "but we're not children anymore."

Rathbone nodded once, sharply, and took her hands in his. He said something, some muttered word, and there was a -- change, over Ma's face, as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered, and I realized with surprise that the sadness I had always seen, in the sharp lines of her face, was finally gone.


I forced her to tell Miles and Tess, too. The three of us stayed at the cabin for a night, and talked about everything -- Ma's childhood, where she had grown up, what life with the mage had been like, whether any of us had any talent for magic.

Rathbone stayed for a month, and they caught up on whatever it was that they had to talk about. We were welcome over in the evenings, the three of us, and Ma cooked dinner, sang to us -- I remembered, as she did, how happy she had seemed when I was a child, when Da was alive and well, before he got sick.

She hadn't been distant, when I was very small. It was only later, when we knew he was dying, that it was a matter of years but that it would still happen, that she had shut herself off.

After a month, once Rathbone had gone home, I asked her why it was that she couldn't go herself, why she'd had me go in person.

"I was afraid," said Ma, "that if I went, he would refuse me, as I had refused him. We've both grown, and changed -- neither of us is who we were then, and he has learned lessons as hard as mine -- but we were both stubborn, too, and that old hurt went deep. Something sent by post was too informal; he might not read it. I couldn't go myself, because I was afraid. I thought, if I asked one of you to go, perhaps..."

I nodded. This, I understood.

"He has a daughter too," said Ma quietly. "A little older than you, and a son, about Miles' age. I thought..."

"I understand," I said. I meant it, as I said it. I'd learned something about her, about what Da's death had cost her, why she had chosen to hide in the woods instead of facing the others in town. Ma was not a brave woman, not in the way that Da had raised me to be. She could be scared, and she could be selfish, and she recognized this in others, as well.

"Thank you," she said, and I knew she meant it too.