Rook

by Robin Roseau

  “I want you,” she said. “For myself, I want you.”

  “You have me.”

  “Yalla needs you at least as much as she needs me, and you heard the conversations earlier. The Queen is going to need us in Marport. We’re going to have to work with the school. None of the other priestesses speak Framaran as well as we do. None of them know Yalla like we do.”

  “We do, and we’re priestesses now,” Féla said.

  “But you’re entirely untrained,” Larien said. “And while I suspect you know a lot more than you’ve let on, unless you’re ready to have this conversation in Her language, you are untrained. You’ve never touched magic at all, and do you know how hard that is to learn?”

  “Wait!” said Naddí. “We can do magic now?”

  “Once you learn,” I said.

  We let that sink in, and then Féla said, “You don’t want it.”

  “Of course I want it,” Larien said. “But didn’t we just arrange your replacements?”

  “Is that what you think we were doing?”

  “I know the two of you enough to know you didn’t ask Yalla to seduce them to her household just so you could have additional bed partners. You don’t need her for that. So why did you ask that favor?”

  “Because we need to stay close to Yalla, and we need two more we can trust to help when Alta, Juleena, or Ralalta need help.”

  “No one would hurt me,” I said. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It is not,” Naddí said, and with about as much strength as she ever spoke to me. “You trust us. Will you trust Maráestára and Peralianíta as much? Will you include them in everything you do? Or would they just be maids?” She looked around. “Where is the Goddess?”

  “She’s standing at the window.”

  “We’re a half mile under the ground,” Féla said. “There are no windows.”

  “She’s a goddess,” I said. “If she wants to make a window, she can. She’s over there.” I pointed.

  “Prestainamatta,” Naddí said. And then, surprising me to no end, she spoke in the language of the Goddess. Her words were halting, but she clearly said, “I question have.”

  The Goddess turned. “Your accent is better than Yalla’s.” I repeated, and Terél translated.

  “Yalla us need protect,” Naddí said. “Yes?”

  The Goddess looked at her and didn’t answer right away. Naddí turned back to me. “Don’t lie. What did she say?”

  “Nothing yet,” I said.

  “Say that in her language. Repeat what I asked you, and what you said.” She looked at Larien. “I know you won’t lie.”

  “Naddí wants to know what you said,” I explained to the Goddess. “I said you hadn’t answered her.”

  The Goddess looked at Naddí and Féla for a while longer then at me. “Maráestára and Peralianíta are as good as they are.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “The answer to Naddí’s question is: yes. You need protection. But it doesn’t need to be them. Maráestára and Peralianíta are good.”

  “No.”

  “Tell them what I said.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  “No, Yalla, I’m not. Tell them what I said.”

  It was said sullenly, but I repeated her words, and then Terél translated.

  “So, Maráestára and Peralianíta will do,” Larien said. “And you two can stay here.” She smiled. “Don’t even tell me you don’t want it.”

  “Not as much as we need to know Yalla is safe!”

  “I’m safe.”

  “Only because you have us!” Féla said.

  “Maráestára and Peralianíta can keep her safe,” Larien said. “You heard what the Goddess said. But unless she wants to say someone can do what we do as well as we can, then we need to stay with Yalla, and you need to stay here.”

  “No,” I said. “They do not. We can ask the abbess. She’d jump at it.”

  “Which is every reason not to ask her,” Féla said immediately. “Larien, you’d be better than us.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Larien said.

  Conversation went around in circles for another few minutes, and finally the Goddess said, “Yalla, send whoever is in the hall to retrieve Vérundia and Hastiá.”

  * * * *

  Ten minutes later, the two stepped in together. They saw Naddí and Féla and froze. Then they hurried over and offered congratulations.

  “Vérundia,” said the Goddess. “We have your replacements. Naddíqualestra and Resaírelteena will take over from you as soon as you declare them ready.”

  Vérundia stared at me, then at Féla and Naddí, and then turned to Hastiá and was hugging her tightly.

  Naddí sighed. “So much for going home?”

  “Home?” I asked.

  “We have the locations where the king and queen are going,” Féla said.

  I looked to the Goddess, and she nodded.

  “All of us will visit Alteara together,” I declared. “And then Féla, Naddí, and Vérundia will return here. But their studies begin immediately.”

  “After we make sure Maráestára and Peralianíta will take our places,” Naddí said, “And you swear to treat them the way you treat us.” She leaned forward. “That means inner circle. Are we clear?”

  “You trust them for that?”

  “If they give their vow to you and the Goddess we do.”

  “Well then.”

  * * * *

  They gave their vows.

  Solstice

  Ralalta looked at me nervously. “Oh, please,” I told her. “Everything I know about speaking in public I learned from watching you.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “Have you heard me sing?”

  I laughed. And then I nodded. Word passed, and ahead of us I heard the singing begin.

  We let it get established, and then I nodded again, and we joined the song, singing quietly at first. I took Ralalta’s hand and stepped forward.

  Ralalta’s speaking voice was deep, strong, and commanding. In contrast, her singing voice was high and reedy. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she felt the words and their meaning, and I knew she did.

  We reached the Heart of the Heart, coming to a stop, and everyone else with us, but we continued to sing. And then I stepped forward. Ralalta and I circled counter clockwise, with those who had arrived ahead of us stepping in behind. We circled twice, still singing, and then I led Ralalta up to her place at the altar.

  I paused there, waiting for the right place in the song. Then I held up one hand and with the other, pointed to Ralalta, treating her as Vérundia had once treated me. All the other voices stilled, but Ralalta continued. I let her sing once through, and then I joined her for the next time around, and then I gestured for everyone to join me again.

  I did two more circles, dropping people at their places, and then I circled again, wider this time, and caressed those standing along the outside, the ones who wouldn’t be standing right at the altar, touching each as I passed.

  I was so proud as I passed my daughters, and for them, I stopped and hugged them both, and then their mother. I might normally have included Alta at the altar, but I kept her with Mandi and Nissi instead. She’d told me she didn’t mind.

  I finished my circle, finishing at my place, standing before the word Life.

  Hovering over the altar was the Goddess, beaming at me. But then she turned and blew a kiss to Mandi and Nissi, and they giggled before returning to the song.

  We finished the song, my eyes locked on Yahamala’s. I couldn’t help but grin widely.

  But the song ended, and I let the silence settle.

  “We are blessed today.” I gestured. “Our Prestainamatta joins us.” And together, we all curtsied to her, holding it for a three count.

  When I looked, even Ralalta curtsied, something I’d never seen her do before.

  “Life,” I said. “A simple word, but it implies so much. It implies
the food we eat, the water we drink, the air we breathe. But it also implies the other words before us. Love. Joy. Change.” I gestured. “We each represent life. We represent our own lives, and we represent the lives we share with others.”

  I spoke for a while, and then I gestured.

  “Change.” Ralalta said the word clearly, but then she continued in Altearan. “There has never before been the Queen of Framara in this room. Oh, the future queen, yes. My daughter has stood here, and my granddaughters. This is change that began eight years ago, and today represents continued change, for life is change.”

  I gestured. “Love,” said Féla.

  “Joy,” said Naddí.

  They spoke from their places. I couldn’t imagine anyone able to speak to those better than the two of them.

  And then I gestured. “Serenity,” said Hastiá.

  “Trust,” said Vérundia. They spoke.

  I gestured again. “A gift to be given,” said Larien.

  “And a gift to be received,” said Terél.

  This was the first time I’d filled the altar circle with those closest to me like this. But it was the Goddess who had suggested it, and so I hadn’t worried that anyone else felt slighted.

  Or I didn’t worry too much, anyway.

  I invited singers. I invited vows. This was always my favorite part of the celebration, as people made such vows. Vérundia and Hastiá renewed their commitment to each other, as did a few other women. Some of the acolytes vowed their loyalty to the Goddess and to me, which made me uncomfortable, but I thanked them for their gift.

  Maráestára and Peralianíta came up together. “High Priestess,” Níta asked. “We are told the Goddess can enforce any vows made here.”

  “She can, if you invite her into your hearts.”

  “We do.”

  “Then call to her, and call her Prestainamatta,” I said. “Ask her to seal your vows, and we shall see her response.”

  They both fell to their knees facing me. “Prestainamatta,” they said together. “Will you seal our vow?”

  I translated, and the Goddess floated over until she was standing beside me. “I will hear this vow.”

  The two glanced at each other then nodded. After that, they spoke together as one. “I vow my loyalty is to the High Priestess Yallameenara, and through her, to our Prestainamatta. I forsake all past vows.”

  The Goddess stepped away from me and walked around them. “Are you forsaking vows you cannot forsake?”

  “We held a vow to Queen Mesenorié,” Está said. “But she told us she thought this might happen and gave her blessing.”

  The Goddess nodded. “Set your hands on their heads,” she told me. So I stepped forward and set one hand on each. The Goddess added hers. “Repeat your vows, three more times.”

  They did, and during the last telling, the room lit with the light of the Goddess. “These vows are now sealed,” said the Goddess. “And cannot be broken.”

  I helped them each to unsteady feet and hugged them. Vérundia gestured, and two of the priestesses stepped forward to help the women back into their places, supporting them as they each wobbled a little.

  “You put a lot into that,” I said.

  “I did nothing that wasn’t in their hearts,” she replied. “I cannot coerce such loyalty, but I can come when invited.”

  By agreement, Féla and Naddí went last. We hadn’t announced the new changes, but this was what we agreed.

  They made me proud. They worked the room, alternately speaking, but leaving no question they were addressing everyone assembled: me, the Goddess, and each and every priestess and acolyte. No one understood what they were doing at first. Their combined speech was far more than a new acolyte might offer. But then Naddí said, “It is long past time Vérundia and Hastiá may be together.”

  “The Goddess has asked us to take Vérundia’s place here.”

  “We would have remained forever with Yalla.”

  “But we are needed here.”

  “And so, we vow to serve all of you to the best of our abilities.”

  “We hope you will accept us as Yallameenara’s right hand when she cannot be here herself.”

  I hugged them both, and then Vérundia and Hastiá, and then several others stepped forward to offer congratulations. And if there were some who had thought to assume Vérundia’s place, they hid their disappointment from me.

  A week later, we were on the road.

  Alteara

  As if there hadn’t been enough of us arriving at the Heart of the Goddess, there were even more leaving.

  The Goddess rode Zana, and I was atop Hamper. Vérundia and Hastiá were with us, and, surprising no one, Hallámierté. Of course, Alta and our daughters were along, as well as Mellara, Lamarta, and Radímaroosh. With Mellara’s help, Riesa continued to see to the girls, her charges now four instead of three. And, of course, we traveled with the largest honor guard I’d ever had.

  It took two days to catch up with King Tradódid and Queen Mesenorié’s troop, Prodótar having returned to Lopéna. The bulk of our guards set up camp outside of town, but Tradódid and Mesenorié had commandeered an entire inn. There was room for all of us, barely, if we doubled and tripled up.

  I was to have a very full bed.

  But we had fun. Féla and Naddí arrived wearing their own cloaks, and it was after we were settled that we met with Tradódid and Mesenorié. The queen took one look and said, “What have you done now?”

  “Queen Mesenorié,” I said. “My apologies, but I appear to have stolen from you.”

  She shook her head. “I train them, and then you steal them.”

  “Rather fitting, if you ask me,” said Ralalta, looking every bit the queen that Mesenorié did.

  “I believe if I wish to retain a pair of maids, I should stop loaning them to you. Whatever did you need two more for, anyway.”

  I didn’t have to gesture. Naddí and Féla stepped to my side and then lowered their hoods.

  “Oh, good gracious!” said Tradódid. “Do you never stop with your surprises?”

  I laughed, and I wasn’t the only one.

  “It gets better,” said Vérundia. “They’re my replacements.” She reached for Hastiá’s hand.

  The monarchs took this in and then turned to their daughter. “And do you have surprises for us as well?”

  “Maybe next trip,” Alta said enigmatically. “I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you.”

  * * * *

  We traveled north. Everywhere we went we spoke to large crowds. We stopped, if only briefly, in every town or village we passed, and we took a zigzag route to the north.

  When we could, we stopped and talked to the people, sometimes all of us together, sometimes splitting into separate groups, with Ralalta always with me, Alta, Mesenorié, or Tradódid. People had nearly as many questions for her as they did for me.

  In one village, Ralalta asked how they stayed warm in the winter. That turned into an offer to visit a home. For that, I tagged along, and the host proudly showed us the windows, doors, and thick, thick walls. And during the tour, we met an eight-year-old girl with long, white hair. She was slender and quite cute, but her mother shushed her before she could ask whatever question she wanted to ask.

  “No, no,” I said. I knelt down. “What is your name?”

  “Glíenmurtalá,” said her mother. “We call her Tally.”

  “Well, Tally,” I said, holding my arms out. “Would you like a hug?”

  With wide eyes, she nodded, so her mother released her, and she moved to me. I hugged her for a minute and then asked, “What did you want to ask me?”

  “Is the Goddess pretty?”

  “She’s very pretty,” I said. “And very kind and wise.”

  “Do you like being her priestess?”

  “I couldn’t love it more.”

  The girl hesitated and shifted from foot to foot. “Tomorrow is my eighth birthday.” She fingered her hair.

  “Tally!” said h
er mother, coming to snatch the girl away.

  “Please don’t,” I said to her mother. “She seems very sweet.”

  The woman pressed her lips tightly together, but she stepped back, so I turned my attention back to the girl. “Are you afraid our Prestainamatta will change your hair.”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid she won’t. Could you talk to her for me and tell her I’d be a really, really good priestess?”

  “Tally!” screamed her mother. “High Priestess Yallameenara has more important things than to worry about one silly girl.”

  The Goddess hadn’t followed us into the house, but I felt her step up beside me. “I wasn’t going to take this one.” But she knelt down and looked at the girl.

  “She asked me to intercede on her behalf.”

  “There are some prayers I can hear in any language,” she replied.

  “Who are you talking to?” the girl asked.

  “The Goddess,” I replied. “She’s kneeling down looking at you.”

  The girl gave me a look. “I don’t see her.”

  “And even if you were a priestess, you wouldn’t see her,” I said.

  “The Goddess is in my house?” asked the mother, her voice filled with doubt.

  “The mother seems excitable,” said the Goddess. She turned back to the girl. “I think I like this one after all.” She looked up at me. “I see no reason to wait.”

  The girl’s hair was already long, straight, and pure white, although the ends were a little ragged. The Goddess simply reached out and began stroking her hair. And before our eyes, the ends straightened, and the black bands began to appear.

  My bond to the girl formed at the same time, and just like I could with all the other priestesses and acolytes, I could feel this girl, deep inside me. But I thought it would be a long time before she would feel me in return.

  While this happened, the mother stared on, and I didn’t think she was pleased. But then it was done, and the mother said not a word.

  The Goddess straightened, smiled, and said, “There. Yalla, please tell Their Majesties we will stay here for the night. Tally can leave with us in the morning.” And then she turned and stepped from the house. I stared after her, then collected myself and turned back to the girl.