In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In the Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 48: Daughters Grow Up

On the front step of Amiechek's lodge, Waru was using the rough edge of a clam-shell to file her nails. Years ago, the shell had been offered by her mother's mother as a special gift during Waru's lavish, eight-year birthday celebration. Having wanted a new dress with pink lace sewn into the hem, the way all the girls had been wearing them to the school-house, Waru had impatiently tossed the shell into an empty basket behind the night-pots and pouted.

She remembered being soundly cuffed for her bad manners by Malaraq, who'd lived with them at the time, and so she'd grudgingly gone back to the basket to remove the shell, cupping it in her tiny hands and turning it this way and that, until the star-light shone down upon it and caused the pearly-pink underside to scintillate deliciously.

It was pretty, she remembered thinking, and she supposed there were numerous things she could do with it: turn it into a necklace, or have it sewn into one of the bodices of an older dress for a fresh new trend that the other girls would be mimicking within days, but Warumachek had never gotten around to it. Instead, she'd tucked it into the pocket of her apron and kept it there, removing it only occasionally to admire its smoothness beneath her fingertips.

In a way, it reminded Waru of her GranMa, who had been dead before her tenth birthday. Waru had never been close to GranMa. She preferred not to think about death and was generally not disturbed when the community gathered for some unfortunate person's pyre-burning (for if her mother, the powerful Matron, could be excused from the proceedings in order to have her hair done and change ceremonial gowns, why should Waru feel any more sympathy?).

She had run screaming from Dragura's Draca and hidden herself beneath the wooden floor-boards of deserted lodges just like any other child when the time came for 'sacrifices'...but when it was all over and some piteous family wept in the fields, Waru looked to Amiechek for guidance and saw only reserved stoicism. There was no softness, no empathy, no warmth in those cool, beady eyes. Waru, who at times worshipped her mother just as much as she hated her, took her cue from the hefty Matron and resolved that she would be just as beautiful-- if not more so-- than Amiechek, whose position on the Council was beneath only Pomoq's.

Determined that she would always receive what she craved-- and in her case, this was Dijaq-- Waru had learned from a very early age the art of coquettishness and flirtation. She washed her hair twice a day, sometimes three, and did not leave this lodge in the morning unless she had given her blonde locks at least one hundred strokes with a deer-bone comb. She learned her sultriness from the loose women who lived in Looks Thrice's outskirts; when Amiechek was away with the Council, Waru would steal away into the dark of night to learn the secrets of women who 'entertained' at night and were shunned during the day.

You must look down when you walk! admonished one, who would use a small container of reddish ochre to stain Waru's cheeks a deep red. A woman who averts her eyes is more attractive to a man than those busy-body types who stare with wide eyes into every face they see.

Let the girl alone! another would say, while they ushered Waru into their quarters and subsequently fought over who would plait the girl's hair (Waru was barely nine) and weave strands of lavender in with their elaborate designs. You give her the wrong advice. She must look up at a man first, then look away; a silent invitation that she is available and willing to share his sleeping bench.

"What happens on the sleeping bench?" the then-innocent Waru would ask, and the gaudily dressed, bright-lipped women would explode into peals of laughter-- though none of them would actually tell her.

Take small steps, mincing steps. Like this. An older woman would demonstrate.

Eat carrots, vegetables, and fruits to maintain your figure. Dab your lips with shine in the morning-- their gleam will make any young man want to seduce you-- and for the Twin Moon's sake, do not tell the Matron that you were here.