When Shadows Fall (The First Book of the Small Gods)

Chapter Three - Lines of Chalk

III Lines of Chalk

The chalk quivered in N’th Ailyssa Ra’s fingers as she raised her hand toward the wall, preparing to inscribe the ninety-eighth line. Never had she drawn more than thirty-two, except when a child grew within her, and most times never exceeded the twenty-eight chalk lines expected between bleeds.

She closed her eyes and expelled a shuddering breath, reminded herself she’d been aware this day would come, as it did for all Mothers, all women. But she’d imagined it differently, thinking she’d move from Mother to Matron and be an elder of the church, like had happened for N’th Adesi Ra no more than four moons ago.

N’th Adesi Re, she corrected herself.

Ailyssa opened her eyes and took the last step toward the wall, pressed the flat end of the chalk against the stone. With a final sigh, she drew it downward, marking the ninety-eighth rising of the sun since her last bleed.

More than three complete turns of the moon.

With her last coupling five moons gone, far too much time had passed to be carrying a child and not showing signs. Sometimes the blood might fool you and continue to flow for moons after conception but, at her age, the belly couldn’t conceal its secret for long. The times she’d been with child, her heart had been aware of the little soul’s presence before her body announced it to the world.

N’th Ailyssa Ra set the nub of chalk on the ledge beneath the marks, wiped its dust from her fingers on the front of her smock, and tilted her head back to observe the scores on the wall above the chalk lines. These ones had been scratched into the stone, meant to be permanent, not erased every twenty-eight sunrises—give or take—as were the spotty white smudges she drew each morn.

It took her a moment to count them, though she knew how many she’d find: fifty-four. She’d been counting them often of late. The more chalk lines she drew on the wall, the more she counted the carved marks, it seemed.

The twelfth line was wider and deeper than the others, indicating her first bleed, the day she earned the title N’th. She recalled it as though there were not more than forty other lines drawn in between it and the last. Her joy at waking to find her bed sheets spotted with the Goddess’ will that morning had been nearly enough to overshadow it also being the last day she lived with the woman who brought her into this world. The next day of her birth—her thirteenth—marked the first time she carved a line in the wall herself.

She traced the mark with the tip of her finger, remembering N’th Pedra Ra who gave Ailyssa life. They’d followed the Goddess’ wishes, and Mother and Daughter were separated after Ailyssa’s first bleeding, and she often wondered what became of the woman who birthed her. Did she go on to become N’th Pedra Re? Or did Ailyssa’s lack of Daughters, and her Daughter’s lack of Daughters, lead to her expulsion?

Perhaps Pedra bore other Daughters who brought honor to the order and the Goddess.

Ailyssa moved her hand away from the deep wound in the stone and blinked back a tear. Her fingers hovered over the next row, where circles ringed three of the marks, the first crossed out by two lines. She kept her touch and her gaze away from this one, knowing tears came easily at its sight, but she rested her fingertip on the second. This one recorded the birth of her Daughter, Claris, when the Goddess had seen fit to bestow upon her the title of Ra—Mother.

Thirty-four marks had been carved in the wall between that circle and the last line, and still N’th Claris hadn’t been blessed to become Ra. Ailyssa heard word of her now and again when one of the Matrons traveled and brought back news, and they’d told her that the Goddess did not yet judge her Daughter fit to give birth to a Daughter of her own.