PROLOGUE: TOTEM
Pushing his way to the front of the circle, Shulgi manages to catch the first sight of you, a fragile chubby creature with a little tuft of hair on your head. Holding you is your mother, weakly rocking you from side to side, another woman beside her for support. Your mother's long dark hair, carefully wound into a bun, is drenched with sweat, and the bed she lies on is covered with liquid evidence of the beautiful miracle of birth.
The figure supporting her, a straight-nosed matron with piercing eyes and streaks of greying hair interrupting a neat brown bun, rubs her back. "It is alright, Marya. This child is well. The child is well." Her own clothes, similar to the rest of the women but with a differentiating black sash over her chest, are drenched in blood.
Marayam gives her a laugh that turns into a raucous cough. Shulgi steps forward, but an arm shoots up to block him going further. He locks eyes with the culprit.
She clicks and massages her crooked jaw. "Shulgi, you must not touch your child until the totem has been provided." At that, Yokan gives a gasp.
"Like mine and Aisha's totems? I finally get to see, Baba?" The Baba gives her grandson a wink, and Yokan's eyes go unbelievably wide. Shulgi's eyes shift to his wife and wander to the bloodstained bed.
"That is more blood than last time, Nasa." He points out.
The Baba idly rolls her jaw in its socket. "I would not worry, Shulgi. My Marya is a strong woman. She would not be defeated by one or two failures. It is natural for later births to be harder. And besides," the Baba reveals a small girl with wide almond eyes and black hair hiding behind her skirts, "she had good help. Go to your tata, Aisha."
Aisha runs to Shulgi, who dutifully picks her up and hoists her own his shoulders. She simply whimpers in his arms while Shulgi rubs her back. "I take it the first time helping was difficult for her." The baba spares a small look to Marayam, and then nods.
"I remember my first time. It was four hundred years ago-" Yokan interrupts her at that, tearing his attention away from the birthing scene.
"You are not that old!" A few chuckles come from the other women, and the men and children now joining them, but there is one grumble.
The pox-scarred man speaks up. "Do not waste our time, Nasa. Proceed with the totem already and let us get this over with. What is a fifth child?" The woman next to him, her eyes dull and staring at her feet, seems to shrink at his voice. Nasa gives little reaction besides a click.
"Nakar, Nakar, calm yourself. It is a joyous occasion for the village-"
He does not let her finish. "For your own grandchildren. But what about those for whom totems do not work? Is this how you seek to get into Chuvam? By embarrassing the infertile?" Murmurs erupt through the crowd. Shulgi's eyes narrow but he keeps to whispering reassurances to his eldest daughter. Yokan's eyes stay perpetually wide.
Baba Nasa shakes her head at Nakar, and given no counter to his own words, the man drags the dull-eyed woman next to him away from the hut. A small flash of light disturbs the amber hue of the interior, and then he is gone.
A mute cloak settles over the crowd, pebbles lightly tapping against the ground as shifting feet kick them to and fro. Finally, Shulgi breaks the silence. "He needs some more yam chew."
Most of the children giggle, a few of the adults surrender a smile. Nasa holds her gaze on the exit, and then turns back to the ceremony, clapping her hands once, returning the quiet.
"Let us forget that. Nakar and Misa are misfortunate by the will of the prophet, it cannot be helped. Tartessa," she turns to the woman supporting your mother, "Are you sure that the proctor will not be back by today?" Tartessa shakes her head.
"Harman will not be back in time. Between dealing with the Deacon and purchasing new clothes from the mills for Tatala, he will likely depart Arhan in a week. I will have to perform the ceremony myself."
A sigh escapes Baba Nasa's cratered lips. "Will the timing of the birth be enough to counter the weakness of this ceremony?"
Tartessa pauses at that, and then gives a considered nod. "Yes, it will be enough. Marayam, give her to me." After a second's hesitation, your mother passes you over to Tartessa, and as you gaze up at her with half-opened eyes, crying at this outrageous disturbance, she smooths your tuft and whistles to you, holding your head and body as carefully as she can. You cry less, even if this relentless attack on your relaxation is still unacceptable.
She carries you to Shulgi and lifts you up. He pushes away an idle hair and kisses your forehead. Aisha peeks at you, but immediately buries her head back into Shulgi's shoulder. Yokan attempts to poke you, but Baba Nasa hits his hand away so hard that he lets out a yelp.
Then Tartessa carries you to each of the women in the circle. They stretch out their arms, grasping, just out of reach. Each hums their own tune, and their daughters join in on the singing. The men spit their chew out as you approach and tap their closed mouths twice before stretching their own arms out.
Finally, she comes to Baba Nasa. Nasa reaches into her skirts, and pulls out a small knife. Some of the younger children gasp, Aisha keeps her head in the relative safety of your father's shoulder, while Yokan is held back only by the strong arms of the man with the greying beard, Mogo.
With her other hand, Baba Nasa retrieves a peculiar thing. Molded with clay and fired in a kiln, the totem is about the size of a doll, small enough to fit into Nasa's well-worn hands easily. A small hole has been bored into the top. Even in the dull light of the hut, the totem flashes with light, a myriad of colors, different dyes competing for supremacy but each balanced by the others.
Vaguely humanoid, it is squat, with arms and legs all leading to a second open hole in the center where the stomach should be. The totem's face has no features except four dots arranged in a square. An indecipherable series of symbols winds around its limbs, all to the stomach.
Baba Nasa holds it up for all to see. "The Totem of birth! The totem of creation, the totem of Simurgh, the totem carved first by the prophet Amalgast and then passed down to us in tradition."
Tartessa breaks in. "The totem of life! The totem of peace, the totem of marriage, the totem of family and respect. The totem first carved by the prophet Amalgast and then passed down to us in tradition."
Now it is Shulgi's turn. "The totem of work! The totem of toil, the totem of wealth, the totem of servitude and obedience. The totem first carved by the prophet Amalgast and then passed down to us in tradition."
Finally, Marayam weakly finishes the chant. "The Totem…of D-death.The totem of good burial, the totem of redemption, the totem of Chuvam and salvation. The Totem first carved by the prophet Amalgast and then passed down to us in tradition."
"Oh god, please protect this child and lead them to salvation in this world." Baba Nasa shouts now, waving the totem and the knife up for everyone to see, feet tapping on the ground. Soon all of the women except for your mother and Tartessa are tapping their feet, and then the men and children are tapping as well. They stretch their arms out towards you and their hands tremble as Tartessa lifts you up for them to see.
The village chants as one. "Oh god, in this totem, oh god, in this icon, oh god, oh god, oh Simurgh, oh Amalgast, oh God."
Finally a hand is raised into the air bearing the knife, and then it thrusts down towards you.
Prick.
You feel the point of pain on your tiny palm, but you have become too comfortable in the strange woman's arms to notice.
The blood drips down into the open top of the totem, held by Baba Nasa under your hand.
At once the totem begins to shake, and Nasa shields her eyes as she thrusts it back up. There are several peremptory pops, and then the whole room is engulfed in a terrible white flash. After a few seconds, there is a second series of pops, and then a smaller flash of red, and then a smaller flash of blue, and then finally a flash of purple. Once the spectacle is over and the smoke has cleared from the fuming totem, a small purple fire rests in its stomach.
"Aya, aya aya!" Baba Nasa shouts at the top of her lungs, grinning from ear to ear. "What a totem! What a spectacle!"
Having buried yourself in Tartessa's breast before the lights went off, you noticed nothing, though the bangs do start another round of crying.
Tartessa cannot suppress a haughty smile. "Harman purchased a new compound from the chemists of Ramayan. There is far more blasting powder."
Baba Nasa claps and puts the totem carefully on a shaded niche in the wall, where almost sixty other totems sit, arranged neatly in rows of five or four, occasionally three or six. She places the totem beside six others; only four are still lit.
"The name now, the name! With such a totem, and such a smell, we cannot wait too long!" Nasa urges on Tartessa.
What
is your name?
[] Mala, after your great-grandmother, who was stolen by Cheshvan riders when she was a little girl, but returned a triumphant hussar.
[] Kalaba, after your paternal grandmother, who does not live in this village but is known far and wide for her fortunes.
[] Vashti, after the ancient queen of Babarak, who was said to have been born on this plateau, far away from the center of the Malekate. Known for her knowledge, she was the last of the good of Babarak before the deluge.
