The Ugly One by Leanne Statland Ellis Page B

headaches.”
    Cora looked at him in surprise, and I could see she hadn’t told him of her own physical pains.
    â€œIt isn’t always so easy to be the wife of Sutic, eh?” the Paqo asked with a gentle smile. Cora smiled back at him uncertainly and gave a faint nod of agreement. She studied the
muña
with wonder before delicately placing it inside the folds of her clothing.
    I had never thought much about Cora’s troubles before. I had seen her my whole life, and not once had I asked myself what it would be like to be her. To watch her husband retch up filthy foot water in front of the people, to stand by his side while others laughed, to support him and walk away from Uncle Turu and his stories. None of this could have been easy. How many similar moments had she experienced? Was it possible she was as unhappy in life as I was?
    Rising, Cora kissed her fingers and bowed toward the Paqo. She slowly backed her way out of the
wasi
, pausing to bow and kiss her fingers every few steps. Then, with a final “
Pachis!
” she was gone. I hoped the medicines would help her husband’s stooping back and her aching head. I wondered if I might learn something that could help her. And then it occurred to me that there might come a time when the Paqo would use his power to heal my scarred face. Might I ever have the courage to ask him to do such a thing?
    â€œYou are free to go,” the Paqo said.
    At first I thought he meant me, but then I saw the spiders were leaving the jar, crawling over the thick edge and down toward the earth to safety. One lone spider remained atop the jar, its delicate legs blending in to the thin geometric designs that crisscrossed their way down the painted sides.
    â€œWill the new voice speak today?”
    I smiled. I was nervous. I didn’t know why I was there or what we would do. More talk of the lessons in the leaves, perhaps? “Yes,” I said.
    The Paqo scowled. “No,” he replied. “Today the new voice listens.”
    Even simple questions were not to be answered lightly in this place. My first word of the lesson, and it was wrong. I repeated, “Today the new voice listens.”
    The Paqo nodded with a quiet grunt of affirmation. And then he said nothing. For a long time, he sat and said nothing. I stayed seated as well, waiting for his next words. They didn’t come. Still I didn’t speak. I would not be wrong again. If I must, I would wait all day for his words.
    Sumac rested comfortably, his cheek next to my head. He tucked his left leg up to his belly and began grating the top and bottom of his beak together, a quiet sound that told me he was preparing to sleep. It soothed me somewhat, but I felt now that I was somehow failing to solve a simple riddle. What did the Paqo want me to do? Why had he chosen me to study with him when I couldn’t answer even the easiest of questions? I should leave. I wasn’t meant to be here. Not only was I ugly, I was unwise. It was a terrible thing to realize about myself, for what did I have left?
    â€œWell?” the Paqo asked sharply. “What did you hear?”
    And suddenly I understood. I was supposed to have been listening not to the Paqo’s words but to something else. What had I heard? In a panic, I tried to grasp at some sound. “Sumac falling asleep.”
    â€œAnd what is the sound of a bird falling asleep?”
    â€œHe grates his beak. The sound grows louder, then slows and stops. When he is quiet, I know he has fallen asleep.”
    â€œYou didn’t see him fall asleep,” the Paqo said. This was a statement, not a question, for he had been watching me the whole time and knew it was so. “Are you certain he is truly sleeping?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow?”
    I didn’t turn to look at Sumac. Instead, I kept my gaze on the Paqo. “I know. He is standing on one foot as he does in sleep. I can feel it in the way he grips my shoulder. He