41. Then Doorway
THEN: DOORWAY
“Today is going to be a momentous day for one of you,” the old woman said over her shoulder as we followed her down another narrow Nyossa path, empty sacks tied to our aprons, each carrying a knife gifted to us by Magda.
“It’s short, broad, and handy,” she had said, speaking over our surprised thanks. “It can be used for more than hunting. It can double as a sort of spade if you need to dig, and every woman should honestly always have a knife on her at all times.”
The thing banged against my leg in the old scabbard Magda had given each of us. Both the uncertainty of our excursion and the unfamiliar weight of it unsettled me and caused me to shiver. It was an early spring day in Nyossa, and there was a coolness to be found under the canopies of so many trees.
“What is this path?” Rowena whispered behind me. “I don’t recognize it.”
“It’s not a path,” Magda said, stopping abruptly and turning to us.
We both jumped.
“It’s got no end and tapers off in a dozen ways into trees so thick, a fat old woman like myself cannot squeeze through. But this stretch of the woods has the biggest cluster of god trees closest to the farm.”
We eyed each other, and then Rowena said, “What is a god tree?”
“Your heritage,” the midwife said cryptically. “It is time to find out which one of you has magic in your blood.”
“Magic?” I said as if I repeated a curse word.
“Now you’ll need to look for two things,” Magda went on, ignoring me. “You’ll be wanting to hunt for blackberries and god snakes.”
“What is a god snake?” Rowena asked.
“What is this? What is that?” our mentor mimicked. “Do as I say and you’ll soon know. My gods, the young are bloody impatient. And yet they are the ones with the most time on their hands. Absolutely without sense. Look for blackberry bushes and shut up until you find one.”
“We can’t look for a god snake if you don’t tell us what one is,” I said.
She glared at me, half irritated, half acquiescent. “It’s small. Its head is without an arrow shape. It’s a fawn color with a spotted pattern of pink. They like to nap under the blackberry bushes.”
“Is it poisonous?” my sister asked.
“No more questions!”
In our tunics and breeches, we could more easily put a leg in between two trunks and peer around them to see the ground nearby, our eyes seeking blackberries and pale brown snakes.
Magda had been correct when she had said this was not a path.
It was a twisting series of vein-like patches of earth where ferns grew, spots between eroded roots on which tasty pig-belly mushrooms perched, some so large they were bigger than our hands.
Rowena and I stepped from vein to vein until we both spotted the toothy leaves of a blackberry bush.
The fruit smelled sour and was rotting on the vine, left alone to perish without being plucked by a forager or eaten by animals.
I squatted and reached a hand out towards the bush, Rowena peering over my shoulder. She stood just behind me, pressing close due to the space amongst the trunks. I lifted some of the leaves up and to one side.
Beneath them, a pale brown snake, mottled with rose-pink specks, napped. Its head was only slightly thicker than its body. It blinked awake and, without lifting its delicate head, looked up at us with large eyes.
My twin gasped. “It—It’s almost sweet looking, for an adder.”
The serpent coiled more tightly into itself, no bigger than a small plate.
“They’re very gentle things,” Magda called to us. “Don’t touch it. Let it be in peace. Now come back to me.”
We gracelessly clomped our way back down the vein of ground to the place where Magda stood, her arms crossed.
“Now,” she began, “whichever of you has magic, you won’t have to look for those things all the time.
Soon you’ll be able to spot a god tree alone.
But you haven’t used your magic quite yet, so you’re unfamiliar.
And those two signs, the berries and the snake, tell you a god tree is near.
If you’re ever in need of mother’s moss, in a place you don’t know, look for those two signs.
They’ll help you find the god trees. They grow everywhere. The gods care for all women.”
I opened my mouth to ask what mother’s moss was, and she said, “I’m getting to it, Roberta. Both of you, come stand near me.”
We did as bidden, joining her in the small circle of cleared dirt.
“Look around for the door,” she instructed.
Swallowing my need to ask her so many questions, I examined the trees closest to us and the ones just behind them. Next to me, I felt Rowena give a little huff of irritation.
It took me some time. Every time one of us shifted our weight or started to ask her something, Magda would clear her throat or glare at us.
But my mind quieted as the din of the forest swelled around me.
The wind was rushing through the trees, busy and searching.
The leaves were making a scratching, blowing up against each other.
Birds, just arriving at their springtime fervor, squeaked at each other, flitting from branch to branch.
Butterflies, mostly green and blue, only ever distinguishable from the moss when they flew, zinged by our ears.
A coney darted just out of sight behind one of the trunks, its white tail a blur.
And then I saw it, an opening in a thick trunk, a tree I had thought of as a sycamore. It was tall enough for a person of moderate height to enter without ducking their head and wide enough so that, should a person step into it by turning to their side, they could pass through it.
I pointed at it and asked if that was the door.
Magda turned to me. “So it is you then. I knew it was one of you, but your energy is so similar and you are so close, I was unsure which of you carried a blessing. I would imagine you have earth magic, Robbie. You’re so good with the foraging. This is convenient I guess.”
“I don’t understand,” Rowena said, looking at the tree I pointed to.
“You can’t see the door, girl,” explained Magda. “Only someone with Tintarian magic can see a god tree as something else. You see a sycamore. Robbie sees a doorway.”
“But we are twins! Isn’t our blood the same?”
The old woman shook her head. “When the fates took power away from the four gods of Tintar, they cut them off from their children. And they reduced the number of people born with any magic. They wanted to create jealousy. It gets thinner with every generation. And the magic grows weaker. It is not uncommon for twins to be split this way.”
The consternation on my sister’s face made me feel guilty, but my mind was too preoccupied with Magda’s words to dwell on it.
You have earth magic, Robbie.
Not only did magic exist and not only did I have it, but I had earth magic. I had always loved Mother Earth in The Life of Una. She was my favorite.
“Step into the door,” Magda said, canting her head to the tree.
Cautious, I took a step towards the god tree.
It had similarities to a sycamore, the first layer of gray and brown bark peeling away to reveal green and white bark beneath, giving the texture of it a patchwork pattern.
It was thick and straight, knobs warping it here and there, adding bumps along the trunk.
I looked up to the net of complex branches swaying above me and brushing against the branches of nearby trees.
And then I looked down and saw another clump of blackberries at the base, overripe and wilting from their stems. Near the scraggly bush was a scaly thing that looked like an elongated, decaying flower petal. I realized it was a shed snakeskin.
Inside the slender opening Magda called a door, I could only see darkness. Before I let the fear take over, before my imagination could convince me of any peril, I went in.
Rowena screamed.
“Hush,” I heard Magda say. “I should have warned you, I guess.”
“She just disappeared into thin air!”