The Eldest Daughter smiled kindly at her. “It is time for the ritual of the Second Hour of Darkness, Younger Sister,” she said, “but you need not attend it tonight. You will have time to become more familiar with the rituals before you are expected to take part in them. You may go to bed now.”
“Thank you, Eldest Sister,” Mikayla said with sincere gratitude. The Daughters fell into line behind the Eldest Daughter and passed beyond the curtain, beginning to chant softly as they went through the antechamber.
Mikayla went to her room, changed into a night robe she found in the clothing chest. The night robe was almost as heavy as the daytime clothing, but given the cold air surrounding her, Mikayla was glad of it. She climbed into bed and pulled the sphere out from under her clothing. Fiolon’s face appeared in it almost immediately.
“Mika, are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Mikayla assured him. “You’d love this place; they’re teaching me to sing. So far we’ve studied seven musical services, and those are just the everyday ones. They probably have a lot of special ones for holidays and festivals.”
“I was watching when that Timon tried to kiss you,” Fiolon said grimly, “but when the priest took you away I couldn’t see you anymore.”
“You didn’t see their library, then?” Mikayla asked. “That’s a shame; they have more books and scrolls than the Citadel and the Archimage put together. You don’t need to worry about Timon; he won’t get near me again. They’ve put me in with the Daughters of the Goddess, so I’ll be so well chaperoned that even Haramis couldn’t complain. And how is Haramis?”
Fiolon shrugged and spread his hands helplessly. “About the same. When are you coming back?”
“Seventy days from now. That’s when the new body will be ready.”
Fiolon looked at her in surprise and delight. “They can do it, and they agreed?”
“Yes,” Mikayla said, smiling. “Finally I’m doing something right. It’s a wonderful feeling—especially after two years of living with Haramis!”
Fiolon looked concerned. “What do they want in exchange for the body?”
“What I’m doing now,” Mikayla assured him. “They just want me to be one of the Daughters of the Goddess for a while.”
“That doesn’t sound too dangerous,” Fiolon said. “But if anything goes wrong, summon a lammergeier and get out of there, all right?”
“I will,” Mikayla said reassuringly. “But I don’t think anything is going to go wrong. The people here all seem very nice—except for Timon, and he has been ordered to leave me alone.”
“Do you think he’ll obey that order?” Fiolon asked anxiously.
“Don’t worry about that,” Mikayla said. “I’m sure he will. The Husband of the Goddess is a kind man, but he’s not someone you disobey.”
“Be careful, Mika.”
“I will be. Don’t worry.” Mikayla yawned. “I’m going to sleep. It’s been a long day. Give my love to Uzun. Good night, Fio.”
“Good night, Mika. Sleep well.”
Mikayla stuffed the sphere back into the front of her night robe. “I’ll probably chant in my sleep,” she muttered as she lay down and pulled the blanket over her.
The chiming of a bell in the main room woke Mikayla shortly before dawn. She hastily got up, washed, and dressed in one of the heavy white robes, making certain that the sphere and its ribbon were hidden. Then she went into the main room. The other Daughters were there already, and Mikayla was glad to see that they were dressed as she was.
I guess I picked the right outfit, she thought with some satisfaction. So far, so good.
The Eldest Daughter walked over to her and whispered in her ear. “We do not speak until after the ritual of the First Hour. Follow us to the chapel and take your place with us, but do not sing until I give you permission.”
Mikayla nodded silently and fell in at the end of the line as the Daughters went through the curtain. Their place in the chapel turned out to be a bench off to one side of the dais where she had first seen the Husband of the Goddess. There was a curtain between their bench and the rest of the room so that they could not be seen by the congregation. Remembering the way Timon had looked at her the day before, Mikayla was just as glad of that.
The Husband of the Goddess entered from the other side of the room, robed in black and wearing the gold mask. The Eldest Daughter picked up her mask from a shelf under the bench put it on, and went to join him. They started the chanting and the Daughters and the congregation joined in. Mikayla clamped her jaws together to keep herself from singing along.
Hail to you, O Meret,
Lady of Eternity, Queen of Gods,
Many-Named, Holy of Form,
Lady of Secret Rites in Thy Temple.
Noble of Spirit Thou presidest in Derorguila,
Thou art rich in grain in Labornok.
Lady of memory in the Court of Justice,
Hidden spirit of the caverns,
Holy in the caves of ice,
The Sacred Peak is thy body,
The River Noku thy blood …
The chanting went on for about half an hour, and Mikayla soon realized that she didn’t remember even half the words. And when the chant started to repeat and the Daughters changed from melody to the descant in a different language, Mikayla was completely lost. They hadn’t even begun to teach her this part.
By the Flower, she thought, I have a great deal to learn before I can even begin to function as one of the Daughters. I only hope I can do it. One side effect of her insecurity, however, was that she was not going into trance as she had the day before. She wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. It was certainly an uncomfortable feeling, sitting there and trying to hear and remember all the words and the tones that went with them. Slipping back into trance would have made all her nervousness go away, but then she might forget and start singing, and then they’d be angry with her. She definitely didn’t want that to happen.
Finally they reached a point that Mikayla recognized as the end of the Dawn ritual. She tensed in her position on the end of the bench, getting ready to move when the other Daughters did. But the only person who moved was the Eldest Daughter, who came back behind the curtain and sat down on the far end of the bench from Mikayla. Mikayla peeked at her along the line of bodies and noticed that she wasn’t even taking her mask off. The Daughters all sat still with their eyes cast down to their laps, where their hands were clasped. Mikayla imitated their position and waited for something to happen.
After a period of silence that seemed endless to Mikayla, the Eldest Daughter got up again and rejoined the Husband of the Goddess on the dais. Another round of chanting began, and after a few moments Mikayla recognized it as the ritual for the First Hour after Sunrise.
Oh, she realized. There’s so little time between the two rituals that everyone just stays here. She tried to remember how long the First Hour ritual took. I think it’s a bit shorter than the Dawn ritual, but that may be wishful thinking. I just hope that we get breakfast when this is over. I’m starving.
Finally the ritual came to an end, the Eldest Daughter returned to the bench and replaced her mask, and then led the Daughters back to their quarters. To Mikayla’s relief, there was breakfast on the table. It was bread and fruit, with water to drink, but at least there was plenty of food, and her new Sisters kept passing it to her, so she got enough to eat.
After breakfast everyone remained at the table for a discussion of the day’s schedule. “He Who Causes to Live wishes to speak to our new Sister this morning,” the Eldest Daughter announced. “You two”—she indicated the two girls sitting next to Mikayla—“will accompany her to his workroom after the Third Hour.” Both girls nodded, and Mikayla followed their example.
She assumed that by “after the third hour” the priestess meant after the relevant ritual, and by now Mikayla was figuring out her place in the scheme of things. All I have to do is keep my mouth shut and follow my Sisters, and I should st
ay out of trouble—probably for the first time in my life. And I think I can actually do this. It’s a very strange feeling not to have anyone scolding me or disapproving of me. I think I like it.
“Until the third hour, we will work on the Dawn Chant again,” the Eldest Daughter announced. The girls all moved to their places on the bench by the fire and started the chant again. This time they all sang it together, section by section, and Mikayla could feel it sinking into her mind.
I’ll learn all of this yet, she thought with satisfaction. I’m not stupid and hopeless after all.
The workroom of He Who Causes to Live was one of the most fascinating places that Mikayla had ever seen. One entire wall was covered with bins containing more types of wood than she had ever known existed. Another wall had a board with all sorts of tools hooked to it. Briefly Mikayla regretted being stuck with the Daughters; being apprenticed to this man looked like a very interesting job.
He Who Causes to Live was a comparatively young man compared with the Husband of the Goddess; he was only in early middle age. But Mikayla noted as he set a stool for her next to his workbench that he had the hands of someone who had been working with them for a long time. The other two Daughters sat side by side on a bench near the door of the workroom, where they could watch Mikayla but not hear the conversation as long as Mikayla and He Who Causes to Live kept their voices low.
“I understand I’m to make a new body for an effective spirit,” the man began. “What does the body need to be able to do?”
Mikayla concentrated, wanting to be sure that she didn’t leave anything out—especially something important. “It needs sight, hearing, speech, and the ability to move, including the ability to climb and descend stairs. It has to be able to tolerate extreme cold, such as the temperatures in an ice cave or on the back of a lammergeier flying above the mountains. And it needs to be able to tell when something is about to damage it.”
“Sounds like it almost needs to be human,” the man remarked, scribbling notes on a scrap of parchment. “What about the ability to eat and drink?”
“If that’s what it needs to maintain the body, it will need them. But it hasn’t eaten or drunk in nearly two hundreds now.” Mikayla smiled briefly. “And he hasn’t been complaining about the lack of food.”
“I hear he’s been a harp?” the man asked, apparently not quite ready to believe this.
“Yes, that is true,” Mikayla replied calmly.
“Incredible,” He Who Causes to Live murmured. “What about sex?”
“He’s male.”
“No, I mean does he need to function sexually?”
Mikayla stared at him for a moment in shock, and then visualized Haramis’s probable reaction to that. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” she choked out. “The Lady wouldn’t like it, and besides, everyone else he ever knew has been dead for a long time.”
“Very well.” He Who Causes to Live made another note. “Now, what is this body supposed to look like?”
“Oh dear.” Mikayla chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know what he looked like; he was turned into a harp long before I was born. He was a Nyssomu, if that’s any help.”
“It will do for a start,” the man said. “I can begin work with what you’ve given me.” He handed her a piece of parchment and a burned stick. “But it would be helpful if, sometime in the next few days, you could draw me a sketch of what he’s supposed to look like, particularly the head and face. Faces are important.”
“I’ll do my best,” Mikayla said. Maybe Fiolon will be able to get a description from Uzun.
“One more thing I need,” said He Who Causes to Live, lowering his voice even further. “I need his true name.”
“Uzun,” Mikayla whispered.
He Who Causes to Live stood, and Mikayla followed his example. “Thank you, Daughter of the Goddess,” he said formally. “I shall begin work at once.”
“Thank you,” Mikayla said, smiling shyly at him before turning to follow the other two Daughters back to their quarters.
The rest of the day alternated between attendance at the rituals and studying the chants for them. Luncheon was after the ritual of the Hour of the Sun at Zenith, and dinner was after the Hour When the Sun Embraces the Peak. Apparently servants came in to clean while the Daughters were at rituals, for although Mikayla didn’t see any servants, the dirty dishes disappeared, the floors were swept, the fire in the main room was kept burning, and the washbasin in her room was emptied and the pitcher filled with fresh water.
There was a break after the ritual of the Ninth Hour when the Daughters went to a bathing chamber, a room with thick woven carpets covering the floor, with a small hot spring in the center of it, where they bathed and washed their hair. Mikayla carefully concealed her sphere inside the clean robe she had brought with her and put it back on when she dressed again.
But it was a long day, and by the end of dinner Mikayla was having difficulty sitting up straight. She envied the other Daughters their seemingly effortless perfect posture.
When the Eldest Daughter excused her from the Second Hour of Darkness ritual, Mikayla could have wept in relief. Instead she thanked her gravely and retired to her room. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep, but the parchment that He Who Causes to Live had given her earlier was propped up next to the washbasin. She put on her night robe, pulled out her sphere, and bespoke Fiolon.
“You look awful!” he exclaimed.
“I’m all right,” Mikayla said wearily, “just very tired. Fio, I need to know what Uzun’s body is supposed to look like; the man who is making it wants a drawing, especially of the face. Can you get a description from Uzun?”
“I can do better than that,” Fiolon said enthusiastically. “I found something interesting in the mirror today. Did you know that it keeps images it has displayed?”
“No, I didn’t know,” Mikayla said. “How does that help?”
Fiolon was donning heavy clothing and pulling on his boots. “Orogastus used it to spy on the princesses, remember? And Uzun was with Haramis for part of her journey.”
“Oh!” Mikayla exclaimed. “Do you mean that the mirror has a picture of Uzun?”
“Several of them,” Fiolon assured her.
“That should help,” Mikayla said, watching the walls flash by as Fiolon ran down the stairs. “I wish you were here, though; you draw so much better than I do.”
Fiolon cut across the storeroom into the ice caves and entered the room with the mirror. It took him only a few seconds to call up the image he wanted.
In the mirror Uzun stood in front of Haramis. He was short; his chin was at the same height as her waist. His head was round and his eyes were a dark yellow color, almost amber. He had a wide mouth, with small sharp teeth, and an extremely short nose, but his upright ears, their points sticking out through his silky pale hair, were long enough to make up for the shortness of his nose. As Mikayla watched the image the ears swiveled back and forth, obviously trying to locate some sound only Uzun could hear.
Mikayla giggled. “He was cute,” she said, reaching for the parchment and the charcoal stick. “Now if I can just get this on parchment …”
“Link with me,” Fiolon said, “and I’ll draw it for you.”
“Can you?” Mikayla asked.
“I think so,” Fiolon said, “and it’s worth a try. Just sit back against the wall, hold the stick and the parchment, close your eyes, and relax.”
Mikayla did as he said. She was so tired it was easy to relax; she was almost falling asleep. But she jerked suddenly awake when her hand started to move.
“Stop fighting me,” Fiolon said. “Your hand is going to move; it’s the only way to draw. Just relax and let me move it for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Mikayla apologized. “I was just startled, that’s all. Try it again.” She sagged back against the wall, closed her eyes, and ignored what her body was doing. She was about three parts asleep when Fiolon’s voice pulle
d her out of it.
“Mika, wake up!” She blinked and looked down at the parchment in her lap. It contained a very good likeness of Master Uzun as seen in the magic mirror. “How does it look?”
“Perfect.” Mikayla swallowed a yawn. “Thank you, Fio; I never could have done anywhere near so good a job.”
“You’re welcome, Mika. Now put that someplace safe and go to bed. Good night.”
“G’night,” Mikayla said sleepily. She shoved the sphere back under her robe, put the parchment inside her clothing chest, got into bed, and fell asleep as soon as she lay down.
17
Seventy days went by much faster than Mikayla had expected.
She was so busy studying that she didn’t even notice when her fifteenth birthday passed. By the time Uzun’s new body was ready, she knew all the daily chants in both languages, and nearly all of the festival ones. For the last thirty days she had been allowed to take part in all of the daily rituals, including the Second Hour of Darkness. This meant that she couldn’t bespeak Fiolon, since now she was never alone, but she reasoned, when she thought of it at all, that he could see her in the mirror if he wanted to.
But finally the body was ready, and the Husband of the Goddess Meret summoned her to the library. “You have studied hard and have served the Goddess faithfully,” he told her. “We are pleased with your progress.” The Eldest Daughter of the Goddess Meret, who had accompanied Mikayla, nodded agreement.
“Thank you, my Father,” Mikayla replied respectfully.
He handed her a scroll. “This contains the instructions for bringing the body to life and placing the effective spirit into it. The body has been packed.” He indicated a bundle on the bench just inside the door. “Do you have a way to transport it?”
Mikayla cast out with her mind, quickly locating the nearest lammergeier. “Yes, Father.”
“Are you ready to leave now?”
Lady of the Trillium Page 17
