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This is the story of Drusian Bette Erdofei, comrade to Lana Goreillfei, and currently an Official Staffbearer. It tells of her struggle to become a Staffbearer apprentice at the age of 12. [I have completely reordered it and added several scenes 9/12/01; Made into Chapter format 9/17/01]
Drusian arrived late to practice.
The other girls were almost done the body-stretches, ready for
the staff warm-ups, and Richette was getting worried. Drusian
was her best student, never late for practice, always quick to
learn a new staff-form or song and always eager. Of all the girls
in the Holy Camp, Drusian was the one she most wished to see move
on. Her comrade, Soli, agreed.
(In those days, Richette led the
physical training for that unit of the Holy Camp--a communal family
for girls ages eight to twelve, a place for the building of strong
community and lasting friendships, and a recruiting center for
the Holy Order of the Staffbearers as well as the Holy Order of
Trailblazers. Each unit is called a family. The Staffbearers serve
the Original Pair, their Goddesses, named Elisabette and Kaeldre.
The Trailblazers serve their Goddess, Anna the Trailblazer. The
early training for both orders is similar and attracts similar
young women.)
So Richette didn't reprimand Drusian
when she hurried into the clearing outside the Lodge House. Her
thick dark-brown hair was hastily pulled back into a rough pony
tail, several strands flying about in the wind of her passage.
Her forest green uniform overtunic hung half out of her belt,
her boots were unlaced, and she held all of her equipment in her
hands as if she had simply scooped it up and run here.
Richette called her over, voice
gentle. Drusian curtseyed and said a formal greeting and "Pardon
me." She then stood there silently, the redness in her midnight
blue eyes and the wet marks on her cheeks belying the cheer in
her voice. She could be incredibly stubborn at times, and she
refused to let Richette see her cry.
"Sit down and fix your uniform."
Richette commanded, gently but firmly. She did so, moving like
a string puppet as she tied her boots and re-tucked her tunic
and put her pocketflute and staff in their holders. When she had
finished she moved to stand but Richette held her down, hands
firmly placed on her shoulders. The seeming gentleness of her
grasp hid the strength Drusian knew to be behind them.
Still stubbornly silent, Drusian
sat and waited for the tongue-lashing to come.
To my surprise, none came. I
did not know Richette as well in those days as I do now, for if
I had I would have realized how like my mother in her quiet command
she was. She sat opposite me and just looked at me for an eternal
moment, in a quiet, kind way. The sympathy in her gaze almost
broke the barrier I kept between me and the sobs waiting to come.
A glance at the other girls--all trying not to be seen watching
while wondering what was going to happen to the prize student--firmed
my resolve.
"Your Pa is a good man."
She began, as if it meant anything. I wanted to tell her that
he was not, that he was an irrational overbearing parent, but
I just sat and waited, wanting to hear where this was leading.
She smiled some knowing smile and added, "Even good men make
mistakes, Dru."
I shrugged. She scrutinized me
for a moment and continued. "I went to see him about the
Testing, and possibly moving you on to become an apprentice. I
had thought he would be proud to have a daughter so talented in
so much. I thought he would be pleased at what you have accomplished
among us. I thought, furthermore, that he would treat a Staffbearer
with as great respect as you do."
I almost laughed at her then, but
to me she and her comrade were as far away and as high as the
Original Pair, the Staffbearer Goddesses, themselves. Though I
had begun to taste the bittersweet joy of rebellion, I still had
great respect for authority, especially hers. Instead, I thought,
<I'm sure you did. And he told you exactly what he thinks of
the Order, and of girls who waste their Gift in magic on things
like fighting and singing and history. He might not have called
you presumptuous to your face, but you could probably feel it
in his tirades. You should have gone to mother first. But no one
ever does.>
Again she waited for a reaction
other than my shrug, and again she got no such thing. She shrugged
herself and continued. "I never knew you faced such resistance
at home. I'm sorry I caused trouble, I do not blame you for this.
I think, and I will pray, that by the time of decision we can
convince your father."
I was awestruck for a moment. Richette
Federifei, Primary Staffbearer and my instructor had just apologized
to me. (Think back to being a preteen, around eleven or twelve,
and imagine your parents apologizing to you and taking blame when
you thought you were going to be in serious trouble. Then imagine
that your patron Goddess (or God or saint) had just done the same
thing. That was how I felt.)
Soon enough what has been called
my "reckless nature" took over and I smiled. "So
you're not going to yell at me for being late? The others'll love
that. 'That teacher's pet shows up in disarray and late and she
gets an apology? Not fair!'" I was quite good at mimicking
the whining tones of some of the more jealous girls. Richette
smiled and shrugged.
"I leave you to deal with
that, sister."
