by Robin Roseau
“Tally,” I said. “You may wish to go look in a mirror.”
“She did it?” the girl asked. “She did it?” Without another word, she ran off, deeper into the house. A moment later there was shrieking. “I’m a priestess! I’m a priestess!” She came running out and threw herself at her mother. “Mama! Look! I’m a priestess now!”
“I see that, Tally,” the girl’s mother said, sounding numb. “We-“ she closed her mouth but turned her gaze to me.
“She’ll do important work,” I said. “And we take very good care of the girls.”
“My little girl.” Yep. She was numb.
“Do you have others?”
“Far too many, but that doesn’t mean she’s a spare!” She wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding on tightly.
I straightened. “I’m sorry about that part. We’ll stay here overnight, but we’d like her to leave with us in the morning. I’m sorry. I actually don’t know how this is normally done, but there are others with me who do. I can send someone to talk to you, or you could come with me. I could introduce you to the king and queen, if you like, and Queen Ralalta as well.”
Without a word, she nodded, and a moment later she was following me from the house. We collected my honor guard, but I beckoned Larien over and gestured to the girl.
“How did that happen?” she whispered to me.
“The Goddess,” I said. “I find myself at a loss. Can you answer the mother’s question? And where are the monarchs?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m sure they know.” She gestured to our guards. “I’ll go talk to Mom.”
* * * *
“Are you able to go anywhere without causing trouble?” Ralalta asked me ten minutes later.
“It wasn’t me,” I said. “Her mother is upset. I don’t blame her.” I looked around, but I didn’t see the Goddess anywhere. “You haven’t seen strange miracles happening anywhere, have you? Girls floating in the air, that sort of thing?”
“Lose her?”
“Yeah. Can you tell Mesenorié and Tradódid we should stay here for the night and give her family a chance to celebrate?”
“Is that what it’s called?”
“According to Larien and Terél, yes. I’m not sure this family sees it the same way.”
* * * *
It took me another half hour to find the Goddess. She was playing with the acolytes. It looked like tag, which seemed odd, given that only two of the four of them could see her, but they seemed to be making it work. The five of them were giggling while running around.
I stepped over. “Shouldn’t they be learning how to speak to you?”
“Exercise is important to learning,” she replied.
“And you were hiding from me. Will you explain why?”
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“Avoiding?”
“I might have been avoiding.” She let Mandi catch her, then picked her up and tossed her in the air a few times before setting her down. “I must talk to your mother now.” Mandi seemed to understand, because as soon as the Goddess set her down, she said, “I’m still it!” and began chasing Lamarta around.
The Goddess walked over to me and held out a hand. I set mine in hers, and together we walked off, my guards maintaining a polite distance.
“Why were you avoiding me, Prestainamatta?”
“I shouldn’t have taken that one. I wasn’t going to.”
“And how could you take her without my help?”
“Ah. That is easier to answer. There is Mine. And there is Not Mine. She was not Mine, but she was not yet Not Mine, either. If they love me, and if they understand what I am asking, until they are Not Mine, I don’t need your help.”
“How can a girl of eight years old understand what you’re asking? And Nissi is only six.”
“Do you believe Nissi understands?”
“Not the details.”
“Does she understand enough?”
“Enough to make a choice to last a lifetime?”
“Does Nissi understand, Yalla?”
“I suppose she does.”
“Tally understands. She understands she will go away. She understands she will leave her mother.”
“She may be willing to do that to get away from an overbearing parent.”
“Her mother is not overbearing, although her big brother is a little mean.”
“Isn’t that the nature of big brothers?”
“Sometimes,” the Goddess agreed. “She understands, Yalla.”
“Why weren’t you going to take her? Why did you change your mind?”
I didn’t think she was going to answer. We walked in silence for several minutes, holding hands. But finally she said, “I rarely take them when their parents pray to me to let them keep their daughters.”
“Oh,” I said, barely loudly enough to be heard.
“Sometimes, if the child prays even harder, I ignore the prayers of the parents. Tally wants to become a priestess, but she hasn’t prayed with the fervor of some little girls.”
“Then why did you claim her?”
Again, I thought she wouldn’t answer. Instead, we walked quietly until she asked, “Do you love me, Yalla?”
“You know I do, Prestainamatta.”
“You never say my name.”
“I was taught not to.”
“It’s Yahamala,” she said. “Will you say it?”
“Yahamala,” I said. “I imagine my accent hurts your ears.”
“I’ve grown to like it. I like when you call me Prestainamatta, but I’d like if you use my name sometimes, too.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I could have told you. Names have power. My name has power. When people say my name, it feels like they are demanding my attention. That’s why I don’t like it. I can’t answer all their prayers. To you, I am a god, but I am not all-powerful. I can work for my closest followers, but most of what I do for Alteara is to provide guidance. Even then, people usually know what they should do, but they’re too stubborn to do it unless they hear it from me.”
“We’ve seen that a time or three, including the day I first saw you.”
“I was with you.”
“When.”
“When you were in that hole. I was so scared, Yalla. You were dying, but until you accepted me, I couldn’t do a thing to help you, and other than your mother, there wasn’t anyone else I could talk to.”
She turned me to face her. “I was with you the entire time. I never left.”
I stepped closer and caressed her face. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I said finally. “Thank you for being with me.”
“I’m not perfect.”
“I think you are.”
“I have flaws. All creatures, even the gods, have flaws. I am unusual in that I admit it, although I don’t necessarily categorize my flaws.”
I smiled and clasped her hands. “You’re perfect to me.”
“No. Do you know why I took Tally? Because I want her. Have you noticed how many of the priestesses are quite attractive?”
“You seem to have a type, Yahamala.”
“Tally is very cute, and she is going to be a beauty,” said the Goddess. “She is also currently as sweet as she is cute, and if we left her here, she would probably become one of those women who is accustomed to getting her own way with a smile.”
“You took her because she’s pretty.”
“Well, she does want to be a priestess, but her mother has prayed to me not to take her.”
“And now?”
“Right now, she is overwhelmed. Tomorrow, when we ride away, taking her daughter with us? I may have made an enemy, Yalla. I shouldn’t have taken her. It was a mistake.”
“But you do not offer to return her.”
“That would be cruel to the girl, and no, I do not easily part with something I consider mine. That is something all the gods have in common, or at least the ones I know.”
“Well then. We’ll just
have to charm the mother,” I said.
* * * *
I used my link with Larien to find her. She was still with the girl’s mother -- I’d learned her name, but I couldn’t remember it now. We found them in the village’s only inn. The girl wasn’t in sight.
“Where is Tally?” I asked in the language of the Goddess.
“The others took charge and are introducing her to everyone,” Larien said. “I believe they started with Zana.”
I smiled. My daughters knew my priorities, anyway.
“I’ve forgotten the mother’s name,” I confessed. I knew Larien would find an excuse to use it shortly. Then I switched to Altearan. “Can you switch seats, Larien?” She’d been sitting across from the woman. Larien nodded and got up to move around the table. The Goddess and I took seats facing the two of them. The woman offered an expression of confusion.
“Our Prestainamatta prefers to sit beside me,” I said with a gesture to my right.
“She’s right here?” the woman squeaked.
“Pahraléntarleena,” Larien said. “May I introduce our Prestainamatta, the Goddess Yahamala?” She switched to the language of the Goddess. “Prestainamatta, this is Pahraléntarleena, but Yallameenara may prefer Ralén. She is Glíenmurtalá’s mother.”
“Am I supposed to kneel or something?” the woman asked.
“Offer a greeting,” Larien suggested. “I will translate.”
“I-“ She looked at Larien, but Larien gestured to where the Goddess sat. “Goddess. Pres-“
“Prestainamatta,” Larien said, helping her. “Do you know what it means?”
“Yes, I’ve just never said it out loud before. Prestainamatta, you do our village honor.”
“Yalla,” said the Goddess. “I am in her heart, but only in the smallest of distant corners. That makes it very difficult for me to judge her. Why is she so nervous?”
“Because she’s sitting at a table with a goddess,” I said. I switched back to Altearan and trusted Larien to translate. “Ralén, do you know the other eight words?”
“Other eight words?”
I ran through them, offering them in both languages. The woman had clearly heard them before, but had paid little attention.
“I made such a mistake, Yalla.”
“I may not agree with you, Prestainamatta,” I said. “This is opportunity.”
“She talks to you,” said Ralén. She turned to Larien. “Does she talk to you, too?”
“Only through High Priestess Yallameenara. This is what makes her the High Priestess.”
“Ralén,” I said. “Did you listen to the words? These are good words. These words define our devotion to our Prestainamatta, but in a way, they also define her nature as a goddess. These aren’t just pretty words. She is joy. She is love. She is serenity. Do you know what she isn’t?” The woman shook her head. “She isn’t judgmental. She isn’t cruel or capricious. She does not come into a home and sniff if a spider walked across the wall last week. She does not sit here and judge you. She only asks why she makes you nervous.”
The woman looked down, not saying anything. I waited a moment then reached across the table, collecting her hands from where they were clenched on the table. I unclenched them then held, one in each of my hands.
“Ralén, you know we take very, very good care of our new acolytes. Your daughter will have a very good life, and she will grow to do important things for Alteara. But you don’t want our Prestainamatta to take her. Will you tell me why?”
She didn’t meet my eyes immediately, but then she looked up, and her eyes were filled with passion. “You’re not a mother. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Actually,” I said. “I have four daughters. Two of them are playing with your daughter right now. The other two are in Marport with their other mother.”
“If you love your daughters, then you must know why I don’t want mine to go away.”
“It is difficult being a parent,” I replied. “You want them to grow up and have good, fulfilling lives. You want them to be loved, safe, and happy. You want to hold them close and never let them go. But you also know you must teach them to stand on their own two feet. I do understand, Ralén.” I paused. I knew I couldn’t really ease her pain. “You seem like a strong, practical woman who is accustomed to working hard.”
“Something you would know nothing about.”
“On the contrary. You live in the lap of luxury compared to the first ten and three years of my life. I was born a girl of the Arrlotta, the horse people. We lived on the high steppes past the wizard’s gorge. It is not an easy life, especially for a girl. But I will admit: most of my life became far better when Princess Juleena took me from my people. It was my ten and fourth summer, and I didn’t understand what was happening. They gave me one minute to say ‘goodbye’ to my mother, and none at all to say goodbye to my father or older brother and sister. I have not seen them since.”
She stared for several heartbeats then looked away.
“I don’t say that to suggest what I went through was any harder than what Tally will experience. I was older, and I knew I would be traded to another clan within a summer or two.”
She looked back. “What do you mean, traded to another clan?”
“The Arrlottan are nomadic,” I explained. “When a girl is old enough to become a wife, she will be traded to another clan. This is how my brother would gain a wife, by trading me to another clan.”
“That’s barbaric!”
I shrugged. “On The Hippa, it is a necessity of life. Surely you do not think I should have become my brother’s wife, and our clans are small. There was no one else.”
“That’s-“
“That’s life for a girl of the Arrlotta. But my point is this: I did not realize it at the time, but being traded to Framara was far, far better for me than being traded to another clan. But I knew I would be traded, and my mother did, too. And I was older. Tally is young, and you did not expect this. On the other hand, you will see her again. You may write letters. You will know she is well, that she is loved. You will know she is learning to become a priestess like Larien, and that she will serve the Goddess and the needs of Alteara. You can tell everyone your daughter is an acolyte, and when she comes to visit, she will come as a priestess to the Goddess. And so, this is hard, but can you not see the good?”
She stared for a while, not answering. Finally she said, “Compared to you, how can I complain?”
“I didn’t say any of that to belittle your feelings, Ralén, but to tell you I do understand. All of the priestesses understand, for we each left our homes. Of all of us, I was actually oldest, as most new acolytes are about the age of your daughter.”
“And what of your daughters?”
“Two will be high priestesses,” I said. “It runs in the family. For the other two? the Goddess has not said.”
“But the two acolytes travel with you.”
“For now, yes. In that way, I am lucky. On the other hand, I am away from home several months every year, and I do not take my younger daughters and do not always take both my wives.”
“You have two wives?”
“Oh, and here I thought my reputation preceded me.”
“I have one husband and don’t think I would care for a second. There are days I barely care for the first.”
“Ah, but he is a man,” I said. I made a face. Ralén tried to suppress it, but she smiled for a moment. I continued to clasp her hands and locked gazes with her. “Ralén, your daughter will be very happy, but have no fear, we’re going to make her work hard. She has so much to learn, after all. And then she will work to make all of Alteara a better place.”
“But we’ll never see her.”
“You won’t see her often,” I admitted. “And for that, we are all very sorry. But this is what she wants.”
“She’s eight. What does she know?”
“That’s a fair point, and I had that conversation with the Goddess. Larien, how often does
a priestess regret serving the Goddess?”
Larien finished the translation for the Goddess and then said, “I certainly haven’t. In some ways, we have it quite well. The sort of girl the Goddess selects are pleasant, sweet girls to begin with. And then her training and the environment at the abbey are designed to reinforce that. We can be very serious in our studies, but we are generally very joyful, especially now that we have our high priestess back.” She reached over and added her hand atop mine for a moment. “There can be complaining, but that is human nature. I do not know anyone who wishes the Goddess hadn’t selected her.”
“It happens,” said the Goddess. I’d been quietly translating while Larien spoke. “But it is always because of something unforeseen.”
The woman pulled her hands away and looked away. “She’s my little baby, the youngest, and I would have kept her a child forever if I could. I know that’s silly.” She took a deep breath and straightened her back. “This is a cause for celebration. My little girl will serve the Goddess. Tomorrow she leaves, and I’m going to struggle to not cry, but tonight I want to give her the best party I can, her birthday party one day early.” She looked at me and then Larien, and her tone changed. “I wouldn’t suppose I could have a little help.”
I nodded to Larien, who said, “We’d love to help.”
The Goddess and I remained where we were after they stood and left. I shifted to my right and leaned against her, letting her put arms around me. “I don’t usually see this part,” she said. “I wish I could make this easier on the mothers. In the years ahead, this is good for the families. I rarely select from affluent families, but the families of my priestesses tend to prosper.”
“Do you help with that?”
“Not directly, but it just works out. Their neighbors treat them a little better, and each other better. The entire village is happier, especially when she comes home and officiates for a wedding or even a funeral. It is a connection with me, and through that, they also learn more about me, and about our principles. They are more willing to accept our teaching. But this part is hard. I wish it weren’t.”
We sat quietly for a while, but of course, even with my guards watching over me, eventually someone was brave enough to approach.
