Divine by Blood

by P. C. Cast

  Morrigan thought about that and decided it shouldn’t be so bad. Sure she was tired, but it didn’t feel like anything a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. And if she’d be alone for most of the ritual, well, how bad could she screw things up? Plus, Birkita was totally fragile-looking—if she could do it, Morrigan should be able to.

  “That doesn’t sound so awful,” Morrigan said.

  Birkita smiled seraphically. “The Dark Moon Ritual is magical. I’ve performed countless of them, and ever look forward to the next one. It is one of the moments the veil between the Goddess and her High Priestess is thinnest, so you will be very near Adsagsona.” She patted Morrigan’s cheek. “And now you must rest and prepare for the Goddess.”

  Birkita walked quickly to the large wardrobe and pulled out a nightdress. Returning to Morrigan she matter-of-factly helped her out of the beaded leather dress and then into the long white robe of a fabric so soft and warm it instantly made Morrigan want to snuggle down in the bedclothes and sleep.

  “The door near the opening of this room is your bathing chamber,” Birkita explained as she tucked Morrigan into bed. “It is for your use only, so you need not worry about anyone invading your privacy.” She smiled down at Morrigan and caressed her hair. “Welcome home, Light Bringer.”

  “Thank you, Birkita. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “It has, indeed, been my pleasure, child.”

  “You know, you look tired, too. Be sure you sleep well tonight.”

  “Now that you are here and well, I shall revive quickly.” Birkita smiled. “I will return in the morning.” She kissed Morrigan’s forehead gently and then left.

  Morrigan stared up at the ceiling. She was amazingly tired, but she couldn’t close her eyes. The beauty of the stalactites entranced her, even after she touched the wall of the cave and whispered, “Not so bright now,” and the crystals faded from brilliant stars to the elegance of a many-faceted chandelier that had been dimmed for evening ambience.

  “I’m in Partholon.” She spoke the words aloud, tasting and testing them. “I’m in another world.” More quietly, she added, “And I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

  You are living your destiny.

  “Adsagsona? Is that you?” Morrigan said softly.

  There was no response. Not in her mind, and not in the air around her.

  She wished Grandpa was there. He could probably help her figure all this stuff out. He’d really like the way these caves looked, too. That thought made her smile, but the smile started to quiver when Morrigan realized that not only would her grandpa never see the Sidetha’s caves, but he would never see her again, either.

  “And I was so mean to him.” Her voice caught on a sob as homesickness broke over her, making it hard to breathe. I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m sorry, Grandma. Please forgive me and know how much I love you. I’ll miss you forever. Brina meowed softly and nuzzled her face. Morrigan put her arms around the big cat, buried her face in her thick fur, and then she cried herself to sleep.

  CHAPTER 5

  It was dark and cold in Morrigan’s dream. Not the soothing cool darkness of a cave, but a frigid, pressing blackness that brought to her sleeping mind images of being buried alive. She tried to tell herself it was only a dream; she should just wake up. But it had the feel of one of those nightmares that clings like a barnacle, impossible to shake even in the currents of daylight and reality and the waking mind.

  Morrigan couldn’t move, and she suddenly remembered the suffocating feeling of being stuck in the middle of the selenite crystal, unable to go forward, unable to turn back. Only, in the dream she was drowning in darkness…unending, unyielding darkness. Out of the black drifted voices. First, a woman’s laughter, low and mocking, her proud voice saying Choose me with a haughty tone that implied Morrigan had no choice at all. Next, a man, possessive and arrogantly proclaiming, You are mine. Then a softer, more distant woman’s voice insisting she be wise…be strong. Morrigan could hardly hear her at all, and her sleeping mind screamed that she didn’t know what to be wise about and she was too damn confused to be strong! Yet another woman’s voice, this one not so distant, but no less enigmatic, telling her, Trust yourself, child. Morrigan struggled against the confining blackness. Trust herself? How? She didn’t know the world. She didn’t understand ancient gods and goddesses. She didn’t know how to wield magical powers. The dark pressed more closely as if dirt was being bulldozed over her grave. But I’m alive down here! Don’t bury me! Her heart was beating so frantically that her chest hurt. She couldn’t breathe!

  Then the blackness was split, like a stage curtain being parted. A hand slid through, open and beckoning for her to take it. She did, and was pulled up out of the pit to look into Kyle’s handsome, smiling face. Morrigan threw herself into his arms. He held her close, but she noticed that as soon as she relaxed in his arms he changed, hardened, felt weird and wrong against her skin. She pushed back from him to find a skeleton had taken his place—a skeleton with his warm brown eyes that looked sorrowfully at her. It’s okay, the words rattled from his fleshless mouth. We all have to die sometime.

  Morrigan’s scream finally broke the dream and thrust her awake.

  Brina was stretched out beside her and was watching her with a cocked-head, pricked-ears expression of feline interest. Morrigan sat up, wiping her eyes free of sleep and trying hard to put the dream out of her mind. In a gesture that was becoming more and more automatic, she brushed her hand against the wall of the cave and murmured, “More light, please.” The hanging crystals in the ceiling instantly blazed with renewed light, chasing away the lingering darkness of her nightmare. Morrigan was just beginning to realize that she was hungry and that she definitely had to go to the bathroom, when Birkita’s voice came from the other side of the hide door.

  “My Lady, have you awakened?”

  “Yep! I’m up,” Morrigan called cheerfully, determined not to let the stupid bad dream mess up her day.

  Birkita was all smiles as she entered the room and dropped to a deep, formal curtsy. “Good morning, Light Bringer.”

  Morrigan grinned and bowed her head. “Good morning, Birkita.” Seeing her grandma’s familiar face first thing in the morning was so normal, so much like how she’d been awakened for all of her life that it comforted her and helped soothe the ache of missing her grandparents. Speaking of missing someone—there was no sign of Brina. “Hey, where’d the cat go?”

  Birkita glanced around the room and shrugged. “I imagine she’s hunting, but you need not worry. Brina is always present during our rituals.”

  “Oh, good,” Morrigan said. She’d grown up with G-pa’s zillions of humongous dogs, and she’d liked them a lot, but she was totally drawn to Brina and already missed the big cat.

  “There is so much to do today. Word came at dawn that Partholon’s Stonemaster and the Master Sculptor will be arriving late today. One of the more prosperous Keeps is probably planning to commission work for a new temple. Whatever the reason, a visit from Master Kai is always an occasion, add that to the Master Sculptor, Kegan, joining him, and on the same day as the Dark Moon Ritual. The Realm will be triply busy…” Reminding Morrigan even more completely of her grandma, Birkita continued to chatter and complain about having too little time to ready everything as she herded Morrigan over to the vanity and began expertly brushing out her long auburn hair.

  When Birkita finally took a breath, Morrigan said, “Um, I have to use the bathroom.”

  “Oh, of course you do! What am I thinking? You just go into your bathing chamber while I straighten things out here.”

  “Birkita,” Morrigan snagged one of the older woman’s hands so that she’d actually hold still and listen to her. “I can make my own bed and clean up my own room. You’re a High Priestess, not a cleaning woman. You shouldn’t pick up after me.” Besides, this version of her grandma seemed so much frailer than the one she was used to—and she wouldn’t even let G-ma wear herself out picking up
after her.

  “Oh, there you are wrong, my Lady. It is the old High Priestess’s duty to see to the young Chosen One. Someday you will do the same for your youthful replacement. It is the way we show our respect and appreciation for Adsagsona. I will stay as near to you as if I was your servant until you feel truly comfortable as High Priestess.”

  “Well, I am glad you’re going to stay close to me, but I want you to relax, rest. I can take care of myself.”

  “Do not fret, child. I enjoy puttering about. Now go on to your toilette.” Just like G-ma, Morrigan thought as she hurried out of the room. Birkita called after her, “But do not bathe yet. You must be cleansed properly and anointed for the ritual.”

  “Okay,” Morrigan called over her shoulder. She ducked under the curtain that separated her bedroom from the tunnel that led to the Usgaran. Looking to her left she saw another, smaller hide-covered doorway and walked over to stand in front of it. She hesitated, readying herself for a crude bathroom with a round hole cut in the side of the stone or whatever, like a cave version of a Porta Potti. The hide curtain was probably what kept the smell from seeping out into the tunnel. Eeesh. Holding her breath, she pushed the curtain out of the way and entered the room.

  No bad smell hit her at all. The room was bigger than even a really nice, modern master bathroom. It was lit with a couple of the smokeless pillars of fiery liquid. Along one wall, shelves had been cut, much as they had been in her bedroom. Here, thick towels were neatly folded, waiting for use. Beside the towels were beautiful glass bottles filled with all sorts of liquids. Morrigan picked one up, pulled open the stopper, sniffed and smiled at the sweet soapy fragrance. Intrigued, she noticed a huge round area that had been carved right out of the floor of the cave. Perched over it was something that looked like the old-time well-water spiggot Grandpa had had to replace a few summers ago. It had a lip and a handle. Curious, Morrigan lifted the handle and instantly a stream of clear, warm water flowed from the lip and cascaded down into the sunken bathtub.

  “How cool…” she whispered. Exploring more, she discovered in the very rear of the room, behind a half wall, the toilet facilities, and was thrilled to find that though they were, indeed, holes carved in the cave, water ran constantly under them and they weren’t nasty at all. “Huh,” she said as she washed her hands. “Who says cavemen, or rather cavewomen, can’t live well?”

  In the little while Morrigan had been gone Birkita had made her bed and had a beaded linen dress the color of the sky with matching slippers set out for her.

  “I’m absolutely starving, and you’ll be happy to know that I don’t feel half as tired as I did yesterday,” she said as Birkita helped wrap the complicated folds of the dress around her and close them in place with pretty, silver brooches.

  “I’m pleased your strength has returned, but I am sorry to remind you that you won’t be able to break your fast yet. You must not eat before the Dark Moon Ritual.”

  “Oh, jeesh, no food? I’d forgotten about that.” As if it understood perfectly, her stomach growled loudly in protest.

  “Not until after the ritual. Then you may feast as you celebrate your first ritual for the Goddess. Until then you may have water, tea or wine.”

  “Ugh, water? For breakfast? And wine on an empty stomach? I think I’ll stick with tea,” Morrigan grumbled.

  Birkita chuckled as she laced up the back of her dress. “The young are ever starving for everything—food, love, life. Have patience, child, and ready yourself for the Goddess’s service.”

  Morrigan stifled a frustrated sigh. Birkita was probably right. Grandma usually was. “Well, would it be okay if I had some tea brought to the Usgaran? I should probably spend time there before the ritual starts.”

  “There, that sounds more like words spoken by a true High Priestess.”

  “I guess I need practice at this High Priestess stuff.”

  “No need to worry, my Lady, you shall get it,” Birkita said, gave a satisfied tuck to one of the deep folds of soft material, and then they left the Light Bringer’s chamber together.

  Morrigan was relieved that she had no trouble remembering which turns to take to return to the Usgaran. Actually, she supposed she couldn’t ever get lost in a cave. All she’d need to do was touch the wall and ask the spirits of the crystal to lead her to wherever, but the thought of having to be led around made her feel restless and uncomfortable. She wanted to find her own way—make her own place in this new world. In Partholon she didn’t want to be an outsider.

  The tunnel emptied into the Usgaran, but Morrigan hesitated in the shadows of the threshold of the room, taking in the scene before her. If Morrigan had imagined the place as somewhere she could sit quietly and commune with (or send silent frantic questions to) Adsagsona, she realized quickly that she had been mistaken about the purpose of the room. Yes, it housed the selenite boulder that was at the heart of the Sidetha’s worship of the Goddess, but it was definitely not a dim, hushed place of meditation and prayer. It was more like the hub of a busy village. Talking women sat comfortably on the fur-lined ledges. Some of them were sewing; some had easels in front of them and were painting; a few women were carving blocks of creamy stone. Under their skilled hands Morrigan could already see the shapes and patterns taking form that had been hidden within the marble. Even more women were working pieces of glittering jewels into necklaces or bracelets. There were very few men among the women, but they, too, were busy creating beautiful pieces of art or jewelry.

  Morrigan had just opened her mouth to ask Birkita why there seemed to be so many more women than men in the Usgaran, when two men suddenly entered the chamber. They were dressed like everyone else, in leather-trimmed garments with intricate patterns of interwoven semiprecious stones and fur, but they seemed somehow different to Morrigan. She concentrated on them and realized what it was that made them seem odd. It was their attitude. Silently, they radiated an arrogance that was so palpable it bordered on disdain.

  Morrigan watched them closely. Each of them carried large, densely woven buckets of some kind of dark brown reed. Together they walked over to the crystal boulder and placed the buckets in front of the stone.

  “Good, you’re in time to bless the mixing of the alabaster sap,” Birkita said and began to walk into the chamber, but Morrigan grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the shadowy entryway.

  “Who are those men?”

  “They are the Cave Master’s apprentices. Only apprentices of the Master travel far enough in the bowels of the caves to harvest alabaster sap. Come, you can bless the mixing of it. We should hurry—we don’t want to keep the apprentices waiting.”

  “Hang on, what do you mean? If they’re only apprentices, then why should we worry about making them wait? And besides that, I don’t know anything about blessing the alabaster sap. I don’t even know what alabaster sap is.”

  Birkita’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly explained. “In the buckets there is alabaster sap. It is collected from the deepest caves where the alabaster rock is most ancient and pure. Clefts are hewn in the stone and the sap is collected there.”

  “But if that stuff burns, isn’t this whole cave system flammable?”

  Birkita shook her head. “The sap is harmless in its raw form. It’s only after it is blessed by a priestess of Adsagsona and then mixed with the distilled and purified juice of corn that it has to ability to burn with the clean light you see everywhere in the caves.”

  “Juice of the corn?” Morrigan was utterly, completely confused.

  “Yes, in its most potent form it is colorless, like water. But it is powerful. The Healers use it to cleanse wounds.”

  “Alcohol!” Morrigan realized. “Well, that’s definitely flammable.” And, if she remembered her chemistry labs correctly, it was from the alcohol that the flame got it bluish tint. “Huh, so that’s the stuff that makes the smokeless light.”

  “Morrigan, if you did not have alabaster sap in Oklahoma, how did you make the liquid to l
ight caves?”

  “We used something called electricity.” Morrigan paused, having no clue how to describe electricity to Birkita. “It’s, um, like harnessing a lightning bolt.”

  Birkita looked dubious. “I would like to see a lightning bolt tamed. Are you able to do it?”

  “Uh, no. I only make crystals light. Electricity is a whole different kind of magic.”

  The older woman nodded. “I can imagine that type of goddess magic would be difficult to control.” Birkita jerked her chin toward the impatiently waiting men. “Much like Cave Master apprentices, who are also difficult to control.”

  “But you’re the Goddess’s High Priestess. Or rather you used to be and now I am. Shouldn’t those men be waiting on us? I mean, without us can the sap be turned into the stuff that keeps the caves lit?”

  Birkita’s face went even paler than usual. “I would never think of withholding my goddess-given gifts and leaving the people in darkness.”

  “I understand that would be a bad thing. All I’m saying is that we should be respected for our power, and for the Goddess we represent.”

  “We should be, yes. But under the reign of Shayla and Perth, power and the respect it breeds come from riches and not from Adsagsona,” Birkita said softly.

  “Sounds too damn much like the worst parts of the world I’m from,” Morrigan muttered. “So I guess that means the sap needs to be blessed, no matter what kind of jerks those guys are.”

  “Jerks?”

  “Arrogant know-it-alls.”

  Birkita’s lips tilted up. “Ah, yes. Jerks. It is an appropriate naming. As you say, my Lady, shall we bless the mixing of the sap before the jerks become too restless?”