The Bitter Taste by Leanne Fitzpatrick

 
     
    No light showed from under the door when Yau woke to
the careful noises of someone trying to make no sound at all. She
rolled away from the wall and peered into the darkness.
    “Tepil?” she whispered, “what are you
doing?”
    “Shh, go back to sleep sister. I am going to
the lagoon to fish. This is the best time- the dawn is a while off
and the fish are drowsy.”
    Yau pushed herself up and lit a tapered
candle. Soft, orange light pooled around her, accentuating the
shadows.
    “Is that wise?” she asked as she watched her
brother kneel at their altar and make his sacrifice. “It is already
the season for sea maidens- they will be violent during their
laying.”
    “Do not worry little sister. I am not so
foolish to go alone or leave the shore. Amoxtl joins me.”
    “I don’t like it,” Yau said. “The gods are
capricious, and you take too many risks.”
    He crouched down in front of her and ruffled
her hair as he smiled.
    “You worry too much, little mother hen. Life
is worth the risk, and the fish are at their best this time of
year.” He kissed the top of her head. “I will be safe. I swear it
to you.”
    Yau glanced at their altar and then back at
her brother before nodding.
    “You have food for the day?” she asked at
last.
    He nodded. “We will come back when the sun is
at its highest. We will feast tonight.”
    Yau nodded again and shifted position to rest
on her knees. Tepil rose, fastened his tilma around his throat and
swung his small pack over his shoulder.
    “Be careful,” Yau said at last. “There is
something wicked in the air.”
    He smiled again, looking down at her.
    “You have inhaled too many of the healers'
potions,” he said affectionately. “You are seeing omens in
everything.”
    He crouched down again and, with his thumb,
rubbed the crease from her brow.
    “Do not worry- I will be fine. I promised you
I would not leave your side. Now, smile for me, or I will be
fishing with a heavy heart.”
    She smiled at last; hesitant at first, but
his teasing soon banished the foreboding from her chest.
    “Be gone with you,” she said at last, pushing
his hands away. “And make sure you bring back food fit for the
gods.”
    “As you wish; little sister.”
    He left the hut and her frown returned. She
stared after him for a few moments and then moved over to the
altar.
    She placed the candle in its holder and
stared at the depiction of the gods. The light flickered over the
faces, glistening over the embossed features. The flickering light
gave them the illusion of movement and Yau shivered, disgusted by
them. She picked up the ceremonial knife and placed it in the
sacred water, washing off the remnants of Tepil’s blood.
    Yau bent her head in prayer. She prayed
longer and harder than she had in the last two years, squeezing out
as much faith as she could- hoping it was enough. She picked up the
knife. Water dripped from the obsidian blade. She pressed it to her
right forearm and pressed, slicing through flesh.
    Her whole body tingled as she waited, then
she flexed her hand and her skin separated enough to let the blood
bead and then flow.
    She held her arm out over the gods’ mouth,
listening to the drip of blood on stone. She whispered her prayers
of safety, reciting them over and over until her blood finally
clotted and the steady drip-drip of blood stopped.
    She drew back, still kneeling, until she
heard the sounds of life in the village.
    She blew out the candle and when she turned
there was a thin strip of greying light beneath the door. She rose
to her feet and made her way out to her people.
     
    *
     
    The news came at mid-morning. Yau raised her head
from the maize she was busy tending when she heard the shout. A
breeze ruffled her simple clothing and she felt the knot in her gut
twist a little more.
    When the wail began she knew in her heart
shat her brother was dead. She dropped her tools and ran, through
the corn stalks and back into the village towards the little