by Robin Roseau
Then I leaned forward and collected the volume. It was, of course, one of the leather bound volumes. I ran my fingers over the embossed cover for a moment and then looked up. “These words are very important to me. Perhaps some of you will regret joining us. If you find yourself wishing to leave, please do so during the gap between words.” I looked back down at the book. “I’ll read, and then if anyone wishes a conversation, I am more than happy to answer questions.”
I looked up once more. I actually felt rather self conscious about this. But then I bowed my head. “Nine Little Words, written by Yallameenara.”
I opened the book, paused on the title page, and then paused again at the image of our Prestainamatta. I smiled for a moment and then turned the page. “Prestainamatta,” I began.
I read carefully and clearly. When I was done with the first word, I looked up. “Don’t worry. Even if you couldn’t care less about that particular word, I believe you may like some of the others.”
They surprised me. They listened attentively, and not a single one left. There were a few points that invited light laughter, and while not everyone laughed, a few did, and it seemed natural.
I finished the book with Change. When I was done reading, I carefully closed the book but then opened it again, turning the page to the image of Yahamala. I brushed my fingers over the image for a moment, my head bowed, and inside I said simply, “I love you, Prestainamatta. I will see you soon.”
Then I sighed, closed the book again, and looked up. “Nine Little Words,” I said softly. I looked around. “In life, bad things happen. There is evil in the world, selfishness, and self-interest. There is loss and sorrow. There is sickness and pain.” Then I looked down and brushed the cover again. “Nine little words. By themselves, they cannot combat the darkness.” Again I looked up. “I wrote this book to share these words. I wrote this book in hopes others would accept at least some of these words into your lives. Perhaps no one here will accept the first of these words, but if the others find a place in your hearts, then I believe your lives will be fuller.”
I don’t know if it was a good speech. But it was the best I could do.
It was Bermish who said, “These are the words on your glowing altar.”
“Yes,” I said. “The Goddess gave me the magic, but she didn’t explain what it would do. She only said she wished her altar to be of smooth, unblemished stone.”
He studied me, and the others sat quietly. I returned his gaze. Here was a man of some authority, but I knew little about him. He was perhaps fifty years old and dressed expensively but rather conservatively. He carried himself well and had an air of confidence. And this was when I realized some of the others were looking for his lead. Finally he spoke. “You’re recruiting for your goddess.”
“After a fashion,” I said. “I have a story. Will you listen?” He inclined his head, and so I spent a minute explaining how my Prestainamatta gave me the ability to look into a woman’s heart, and how I had done so with someone important to me. I had seen so much death and hurt.
“Princess Juleena?”
“No. She is Altearan, and not someone anyone here is likely to know,” I replied. “But I do not wish to use her name. Will you respect her privacy?”
Again, he inclined his head. And so I finished the story and said, “From this, I realized that there is deep rot in the world. There is evil in the world. And these nine words were the cure, or at least a portion of the cure. Do I hope that Framara will open its heart to my Prestainamatta? Absolutely. But it is far more important that people think about what these words could mean to their lives. Don’t you agree, Bermish?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he sat quietly, his gaze intent. Finally he said, “You have this magic, to look into the heart and soul of a woman.”
“Yes.”
“Not a man?”
“Oh,” I said. “Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“Why not?”
“I have used it when inviting new priestesses into the order. We have priestesses, but no priests. Are you suggesting I try with you?”
Again he paused and then asked, “Will it change me in some way?”
“The magic requires me to trust you in the same fashion that you trust me,” I said. “I will see into your heart, but you will see into mine.” Then I smiled. “But I have more practice than you do.”
“You would let me see into your heart?”
“I would. I have nothing to hide, but you may find the experience disconcerting.”
He smiled and nodded, and I realized that while he might dress conservatively, he was willing to take risks.
I stood, and so did he. And then I closed the distance. “I must touch you.” He nodded, and so I lifted my hands. He nodded again, so I set them into place, one on the back of his head, and one on the center of his chest.
“Do I touch you?”
“It is not necessary,” I said. “Are you sure?”
“No, but do it.”
I smiled again, summoned the magic, and let it flow between us.
Yes, it worked on a man, although in the back of my head, I felt Yahamala laughing. “Really, Yalla? You wish to see into the heart of a man?” She said the last word with humor.
The magic settled between us, and I knew before me stood a good man, strong and protective of those he cared for. I saw loss: his wife died earlier this year.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You loved her deeply.” And then I saw more. “She made you the man you are.”
I saw love for two daughters and a son, and then a sister, equally loved. I saw a man who could be hard when necessary, a man who was respected, and who worked hard to earn that respect.
I saw some of the things he’d done. I gasped when I realized he had once killed a man, and then I asked, “Why?” and I saw the same sister, beaten terribly.
“A girl of the Hippa,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I’ll ever again call it Garneer.”
“Your sister,” I whispered back.
“That was long ago,” he replied. “Your mother.”
“I miss her every day.”
I saw more. I saw Bermish as a boy. I saw him searching for answers and finding some. And then I saw him standing before me, still looking for answers.
And finding some.
Slowly, the magic faded. Slowly, I lowered my hands.
Malta stepped to my side and led me back to the sofa. Bermish found his chair on his own. Still, we looked into each others’ eyes. “Your goddess,” he said.
“She is these nine words,” I replied.
“But she is real.”
“Oh, most definitely, she is real,” I said. Before me, I opened the book and turned it to the image of the goddess and me, floating in the air. “This is what it is like when we first greet after an absence. In her joy, we rise into the air, high above the others, turning slowly while greeting each other. Dozens have borne witness. Princess Juleena and Queen Ralalta have both seen.”
He leaned forward on his chair and looked at the illustration for a moment. “You expect your words to travel throughout Framara.”
“Not expect. Hope.”
“All right. Hope. I cannot imagine many can afford a book such as this.”
“This is the copy to leave on a table. It is a work of art in itself as much as it is for the words. But we have much simpler copies we will give to any who ask.”
“Give?”
“Those who can may offer a donation. But these words are for all who wish to learn them.”
“And you hope those who can will donate more than the cost?”
“Helping to pay for those copies we give with no donation,” I said. “I am told in Alteara, books of this nature pay for themselves. If we make more, it will go towards future books.”
Bermish reached for the book between us. I pushed it closer to him, and he lifted it to his lap. He carefully flipped to the beginning, and then slowly paged through it, stop
ping at each illustration for a moment, and then reading a sentence or two for each word. Finally he closed it but kept the book on his lap, his hands resting on it. “You would sell one of these to me?”
“I would,” I said. “Will you leave it where others may read it?”
“I would,” he said. “And will you also allow me several of the simpler versions. I wish one I could carry with me, and others for those closest in my life.”
I smiled, and I felt tears crawl into my eyes. “Of course,” I whispered.
He nodded. “Good.” He leaned forward and replaced the book on the table. Then he withdrew a card and set it atop the book. I leaned forward and took it. It held his name and address. I nodded, and that was when he stood. “Feerie, an unexpected evening. I find myself rather overwhelmed.”
“Are you hurt, Bermish?” asked Janella.
Bermish turned to the stately woman. “Not at all. If Lady Yallameenara asks to see into your heart, it is an experience you should accept.” He paused. “If you dare. Are you feeling daring, Janella?”
“No,” she said with pursed lips. “I am not.”
“Pity,” he said. He turned. “Feerie. Thank you for the invitation.” He turned once more. “You are an interesting woman, High Priestess Lady Yallameenara, Duchess Havenshade.” And then he turned and strode from the room, everyone looking after him.
My audience broke up after that, although I found myself surrounded by several people. Feerie disappeared to see to her guests, although I’d see her later. I found myself answering questions, some about the goddess, some about the nine words. But then Lady Wist said, “Do me.”
“Excuse me.”
“Maybe Janella isn’t feeling daring, but I am.”
“Oh,” I said. “I see.”
She cocked her hip and then added a delicate hand. “Perhaps you’re afraid.”
I snorted a laugh. “No one here believes that.”
She frowned. “Do me.” It was said more gently this time.
“Are you offering to be claimed as a priestess to our Prestainamatta?”
“I wouldn’t be any better a priestess than Bermish would. You did him. Why don’t you want to do me?”
“She’s not a performing animal, Wist,” Malta said.
“Perhaps not,” said the woman with a gesture. “But all this was a setup. This entire evening was a setup to introduce her book.” She looked around. “Everyone here is curious, Lady Yallameenara, but they’re not bold enough to put themselves forward.”
“Everyone has secrets,” I said.
“Are you going to blab Bermish’s secrets?”
“Of course not,” I replied.
“You said it worked both ways. Well, I want to see the mettle of our queen’s foster daughter, the woman married to our future queen.”
“I have nothing to prove, Lady Wist.”
“I never said you did,” she replied. “And yet, I still want to see your mettle.”
“And are you going to blab my secrets?”
“I guess we’ll see if you’re brave enough to risk it.”
“Do you believe a taunt like that is going to sway me?”
She said nothing for a moment, and we stared at each other, squared off, while the others waited to see what would happen. Finally she said the word that would convince me.
“Please.”
At that, I nodded. Then I stepped forward. She stiffened as I touched her, but she stared into my eyes. “This is intrusive. You understand that.”
“Of course it is.”
“All right, then.” I summoned the magic and then poured it into her, binding us together.
I saw a hard woman, one life taught to be hard. And I saw a woman who had been cruel, using her beauty and influence to hurt others. At that, I almost withdrew in shock, but she grabbed my hands and held me tightly. “Don’t stop there,” she whispered.
And so I didn’t. Instead, I asked why she was so insistent.
And I saw her original moment of self reflection, perhaps the first in her life. It had been some years ago. She had just hurt someone who actually mattered to her, she’d hurt her badly, and she’d realized it.
I felt the disgust, disgust that lived to this day.
Oh, she was still a hard woman, and her tongue could cut when she wished it. She’d been cruel since then, but it wasn’t done wantonly like it once had.
“Penance is not mine to offer you,” I whispered.
“I know,” she whispered back. “But am I lost?”
Wasn’t that an excellent question? And so I asked it. In doing so, I saw loneliness, and a bitter heart. I saw a woman who had once been beautiful, who had once gotten her way with little more than a taunting smile. I saw a woman who now got her way more often out of fear, and I wondered why Feelie had invited her.
I saw a woman who would have a difficult time coming to our Prestainamatta’s words. I saw a woman with decades of behavior, and a heart deliberately hardened.
Eventually, I pulled away, but Wist grabbed my hands again, holding them between us. I looked into her eyes.
Then she pulled away and fled, something I thought she hadn’t done in at least thirty years. But at the doorway she stopped. She didn’t turn around but said firmly, “Lady Yallameenara, you are a beautiful woman, inside and out.” Then she was gone, her boots clicking rapidly against the wood floor.
The room was dead still for a moment until Malta said, “Well, Yallameenara, it seems you have a way with women.”
The entire room broke into laughter.
* * * *
It was sometime later; I was thinking it was nearly time to go. But then Feerie appeared, Janella on her arm. “Give us a minute, Feerie. Perhaps you can ensure my carriage is waiting.”
“Of course.”
Feerie slipped away, and I found myself facing an indomitable woman of advanced years, but I could see her continued strength. She pressed a card into my hands. “Call on me tomorrow morning. Not too early.”
“Mid-morning?”
“Mid-morning,” she agreed with a nod. “Bring a copy of your book.”
“I will.”
“Good. Where is that young man? I wish an escort to the front door.”
“I can take you.”
“And yet, I prefer the young man,” she said with a grin. “His wife won’t mind.”
I laughed and led her to Andro, who was quite gracious. Valara slipped an arm around my waist as we watched the two depart. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
“I want you to send a crate of your books to the winery,” she said. “The simpler ones. We’ll sell them for you.”
“They are free to those who want them,” I said.
“Fine. We will give them to anyone who asks, but anyone coming into our shop can afford a donation.”
I laughed. “All right.”
“Good. Yalla, I’m pregnant.”
“Congratulations! Number three.”
“Will your goddess bless my child, Yalla?”
“I don’t know, but I will. But there is a risk, Valara. The last time I did this, she was born with long, black hair.”
“Which has since turned partially white,” Valara continued. “Please, Yalla, will you bless my child?”
“Of course I will,” I said. I stepped in front of her then knelt down, setting both hands to her stomach. It was still flat, the pregnancy new, but I poured my magic forward and could feel the child.
I was glad I didn’t need to be too entirely intimate this time.
I saw a small life inside her, and I immediately knew it would be a girl. I looked up at my friend. “Do you want to know?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“It’s a girl.”
“I thought so. Please bless her, Yalla.”
I nodded, and then I switched to the language of the goddess. “Yahamala, my Prestainamatta, please bless this child, daughter to this wonderful woman.”
“Of course, Yallameenara,” whi
spered the goddess to me. I felt the magic slide from me and wrap around the life. The link formed, and a second one to Valara herself.
She gave a small gasp, but when I looked up, she was smiling widely.
“Kiss her now,” said Yahamala. I felt her stay with me. I leaned forward and kissed Valara’s tummy. Then I stood and stepped closer to the woman. We looked into each other’s eyes. I lifted a hand to her cheek and then brought our lips together. There was an additional tingle, and I felt the goddess laughing.
“Bring them to me,” she said. “If they dare.”
And then I felt her withdraw. I broke the kiss. Valara’s eyes fluttered open, but it was Andro who said, “So that’s how it is now, hmm?”
Valara blushed bright red, but we both turned to him. “She granted my wish.”
“I knew you wanted her.”
“Andro!” Valara hissed.
Andro grinned. “Boy or girl.”
“Girl.”
He nodded. “I like girls.” He stepped forward, wrapping an arm about Valara’s waist and setting the other on her stomach. “Thank you, Yalla. From both of us.”
“You’re welcome.”
“That was really hot. If you want to kiss her again, go ahead.”
Valara slapped the back of her hand against his chest. “You are such a boy sometimes.”
He grinned, and I saw the boy who had once tormented me a time or two, a look I hadn’t seen on him in some years.
“It’s late,” I said. “And Mama needs her rest. Where is Malta?”
* * * *
Feerie intercepted us as we neared the front door. “Lady Yallameenara.” We came to a stop, our hostess blocking the path to the exit.
“Feerie. Thank you so much.”
“Is it safe to say you owe me?”
“Feerie,” Malta said reproachfully.
“Do you, Lady Yallameenara?”
I considered then said, “There is a debt.”
“I’m glad you agree. Would you like to pay it immediately or come back tomorrow?”
“That may depend upon how long repayment will take, and whether you’re about to suggest we make two princesses very jealous.”
