Tilja

Character Analysis

Tilja Urlasdaughter is a pretty normal girl... at first. She loves her home at Woodbourne in the Valley as much as she loves her family. Unlike many kids, she's a good listener, gets up every morning to do her chores, and adores her sometimes annoying sibling and her parents (affectionately called "Ma" and "Da").

But she's got some growing up to do—her sister, Anja, inherited their mother's powers, so Anja will get the family farm one day, and Tilja will be out on her own. Tilja feels alienated from her family for the first time and worries about how she'll relate to her sis and her parents.

Tilja is very attached to Woodbourne and her home. She feels isolated by the fact that she isn't magical—she's different than her sister and mother, and her dad can't relate to her disappointment because he never had any promise of magic. When she finds out about Anja's ability, Tilja snaps at her sister:

"'[…] It doesn't mean anything, Til. I won't let it. This is your home, too.'"

"No it isn't!" Tilja snarled. "Not anymore! Don't talk about it!"

She knew it was unfair. Anja was doing her best, and it wasn't her fault, but Tilja couldn't help it, and when Anja started to cry she just stood there, scowling. (3.51-53)

Looks like our main girl has some peace making to do when it comes to her lot in life.

Time to Grow On Up

But don't worry—Tilja asks herself the tough questions, like, "What am I to do with my life?"—and this helps her along her journey toward finding her place in the world (since it ain't gonna be on the family farm). But that doesn't mean that she doesn't struggle to find her way.

When Tilja finds out that Tahl can speak to the river, she's jealous (she's got some serious hang-ups when it comes to other people's magic)—but when she discovers he never learned to kick-fight because his dad died young, she doesn't feel so alone anymore. Our girl is evolving, and she recognizes that they both have experienced a great loss or absence in their lives:

The mocking note was back in his voice, but Tilja heard it differently now. It wasn't her he was mocking, or anyone in particular. It was more like a screen, or a mask, behind which he could keep the real Tahl hidden. She'd had a glimpse of that Tahl just now, the glee of guessing the answer to the riddle, the sorrow of never being taught to kick-fight. She nodded. (3.167)

And since nothing says growing up quite long an epic trek—and because Tilja really wants to help the Valley in any way she can—she decides to travel to the Empire to find Faheel. If she doesn't have magic, she can't speak to the cedars, but she can go on a long journey to help the Valley. And that's something Anja can't do (since their parents won't let her).

Level-Headed Lady

Tilja is a reasonable gal. Once she's had time to process her loss, she doesn't lash out anymore, but reacts in a rational manner, while not losing the emotion of leaving Woodbourne:

She was, in a sense, no less miserable about knowing that she must one day leave Woodvourne, but at least she knew why, and could accept it as a fact, something that she had been born with […]. (3.221)

Some people are born with magic, and some are born… to protect the home of people with magic. Tilja falls into the second group. Or so it seems…

Tracking Down Tilja

Tilja remains unsure of herself until she finds what she's good at. For the first time, she's able to do things Anja can't—whether it's a mundane task like helping steer the raft, or handling Calico, which only she is good at. But she's more than good at steering and handling stubborn horses—Tilja discovers that she has a strange sort of power, one that allows her to dispel "made magic," which is man-manipulated magic.

Wait a second. Come again?

Yup—Tilja is magical after all. Her magic is just more like anti-magic. Cool, right? But even cooler than that, we think, is that she ends up figuring out how to use magic all by herself. And once Tilja begins to realize the extent of her powers, she gains confidence:

Magic, she thought. Yes, Talagh, the warded city. Wards of immense power, built into its walls by the greatest magicians of the Empire. And she, Tilja, had just carried Axtrig through them. The Ropemaker had said he didn't know if she could do it, but she had. The wards had tried to stop her, to break through her own mysterious defenses, and they had failed. Though she was still shuddering with the remembered strain and terror, beneath them she began to feel a strange sort of dazed exhilaration at the understanding of what she had done. (8.16)

She's come a long way from the girl she left the farm as, hasn't she? And Tilja's not just a little magical, either—she's so powerful that she exceeds the Ropemaker's expectations and overcomes wards built by "the greatest magicians of the Empire." Not too shabby for a girl who used to pout about the fact that her sister can talk to trees.

Baby, It's Magic

During her time with Faheel, Tilja becomes a fully-fledged magician. She grows in confidence to the point that she becomes cocky and gets tempted to do more than she should. But Tilja is level-headed and pure of heart, so she realizes the danger of exercising such powers, and in doing so maintains her integrity:

Despite the urgency, doing this, so easily, so confidently, brought that extraordinary sense of pure, secret power. She could, if she could have chosen, have gone upstairs again and stolen every fabulous jewel that those women were wearing, and no one would ever have known how it was done. The idea was thrilling. And dangerous—a danger that came not from outside herself, but from within. A Tilja who gave in to it would have become a different Tilja from the one who had flown to Talagh on the back of the roc. Now she could understand why it had mattered so much that the Ropemaker didn't become one of the Watchers. (12.105)

Tilja defeats some of the most powerful Wizards in the Empire—like the Watchers and Moonfist—and she doesn't want to chill in the Valley forever. Not only will Woodbourne be Anja's someday, but there's no magic there—and Tilja's got to go where her powers can do some good. She's come to realize that her home isn't just where she grew up, but wherever she goes.