Chapter 8

 

Zora woke up alone in the dark. She was lying on flat stone, and there was some sort of linen fabric draped over her. Her first terrified thought was that she had been entombed alive. She had no idea where she was or how much time had passed. She tried to open her eyes, and she discovered that they were already open. Changing them to cat-shape was no help. Cats can’t really see in the dark—that’s just superstition. They have to have some light, even if it’s not as much as a human needs, to see. And why am I worrying about the structure of a cat’s eyes when I’m... The feeling of panic reclaimed her.

Zora had never felt like this before; her body felt as if a fire had burned inside it and now all that remained was empty space waiting to be filled—but by what? She tried to force herself to be calm. Start with the basics: breathe in, breathe out; breathe in, breathe out...

I should have stayed a dog.

Something—the taste of the air, perhaps, along with a sense of the amount of space around her—made her suspect that she was in a cave, but it didn’t feel like the chapel. It really did feel like a tomb. She was lying flat on her back on a smooth stone surface, and her arms were at her sides, held down by a linen sheet that came up to her chin. She was pretty sure she was naked, but presumably she could wrap the sheet around herself when she got up, so it could have been worse. And she could feel movement in the air, so even if she was in a tomb, she hadn’t been sealed into it.

That realization helped her calm down a little bit, and Zora was thinking about getting up and exploring her surroundings when she noticed she was starting to be able to see. Some source of light was heading her way. Zora decided the best thing to do was to pretend to be asleep for the time being—at least unless somebody did try to entomb her. The fact that the only sound she could hear was a girl sobbing hysterically made her very uneasy. She struggled to remember what had happened to her.

The last thing I remember was the beginning of the Choosing. Did I do something wrong and disrupt the ritual? Am I being punished for something?

Zora closed her eyes to shield them from the light and concentrated on using her ears, trying to pick up anything other than crying. But all she could hear was the still-hysterical sobbing. It not only drowned out all other sounds, it made her head hurt.

She tried to get her hands free so she could put them over her ears, but the linen was either wrapped or weighted. She could probably fight her way free, given time, but she wasn’t sure that was the best move at the moment.

The sobs were interspersed with the word “no” repeated over and over, and Zora finally recognized the voice. It was the Queen’s—it just sounded younger than usual. What in Earth is going on?

“I don’t know why the Goddess chose her,” an older woman’s voice finally carried over the sobs, “but there is no doubt that she did.” She paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “Now will you please say the Calling so that all of us can get out of here. We have a lot to do today.”

“I can’t,” the Queen sobbed. “I can’t bear this! It’s all just too much! Why didn’t he go hunting for venison when I asked him to? He would have been safe then!”

I guess Kyril won’t have to watch her with another man all summer. Why don’t I remember his being chosen? What is my part in all of this? Whatever it is, I don’t think I can do it stuck here, so...

“Lina,” Zora said firmly, loudly enough to be heard over the sobbing. Everyone in the room gasped. Either I wasn’t supposed to speak, or I wasn’t supposed to know the Queen’s name. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them the Goddess told me. “Lina, I’m here to help you, but I can’t do anything as long as we’re stuck here. Please say whatever it is you’re supposed to say.”

Lina’s sobs muted to sniffles. “All right,” she said, coming forward to stand at the foot of whatever Zora was lying on. Two women carrying candles flanked the doorway, while two others moved forward to stand at Zora’s shoulders. There was enough light now for her to see that she actually was lying on a stone bier—or an altar—in a small crypt. At least I’m the only body in it, and it appears they are preparing to let me out. But to do what?

“Chosen of the Goddess,” Lina began, in a thin, uncertain voice. “Dead to the world, arise to new life.”

The women at Zora’s shoulders pulled the linen down her body. They wore the green gowns of the priestesses who attended the Queen, but they were unveiled.

“Arise,” the Queen said. “Be reborn in the service of the Goddess.” Her voice was distinctly lacking in enthusiasm, but apparently the words were correct.

When the linen was completely clear of Zora’s body, the priestesses helped her to sit up and then stand. She was a bit dizzy, but they seemed to expect that, and they supported her as the Queen led them out of the crypt and up a passage carved out of rock, heading toward daylight. The two priestesses with the candles followed them. As the dizziness passed, Zora noticed that the stone under her bare feet was not cold, but warm, and that power seemed to well up from the floor. She felt better and stronger with each step she took. Given the energy coming up from the floor, we must be somewhere near the chapel, but I haven’t been in here before.

They came to a small chamber with an underground stream running through it, and the priestesses who were guiding her indicated that Zora was to step into it. It came up to her knees, and it was freezing. Gently, but firmly, they pushed her down to her knees and then forward. She didn’t think they were going to drown her, but she strongly suspected that she wasn’t getting out until her entire body had been completely submerged. Of course! It’s a rebirth ritual—and the sooner I’m completely immersed, the sooner I can get out of here. While they didn’t use anything like this at home, she could guess at the principles. She couldn’t get into the temple library there herself, but Marfa had given Zora many books to read over the years.

So now Zora filled her lungs with air and allowed her body to slip under the surface. After several long seconds—she guessed they were making sure all of her hair was underwater—they pulled her up. Zora gasped from the cold—and the pain of being submerged in such cold water—but didn’t say anything. She suspected she really wasn’t supposed to be talking yet.

The priestesses lifted her out of the stream—Zora could hardly move by herself—and then took towels and vigorously rubbed her body dry. When one of them started toweling her hair, she panicked again for a moment, wondering what color it was. Had she reverted to her true shape while she was unconscious? But if I had, surely someone would have commented on my resemblance to Lina.

When she was dry, they dressed her in a green gown like the ones they were wearing. Lina was wearing one as well, and Zora hoped it was just for this ritual. If she and Lina had to spend a lot of time together while dressed identically, just having different hair colors and lengths might not be enough.

When Zora was dressed, the priestesses with the candles led the procession further down the hallway until they finally reached someplace she recognized: the room where Lina had come for her lessons. The candles were extinguished and put away, Lina collapsed onto one of the couches, crying as if she would never stop, and everyone else sat down at the table. One of the women, the one Zora remembered from Lina’s lessons, indicated the chair at the foot of the table. Zora sat there, hoping that somebody was about to explain what was going on.

The Shield-Bearer came in just then. Not counting Zora and Lina, there were now five women in the room, looking at the Queen with attitudes ranging from dismay to disgust.

“Do you want venison, Lady?” one of the priestesses asked. She sounded as if she were trying to placate a fractious toddler.

“I don’t care about the venison!” the Queen screamed. “I just wanted him to be out of the way!”

“Are you talking about Kyril?” Zora asked.

Lina looked up at her. “Who are you, and what do you know about the king?”

Surely Lina knows who I am. Granted, she hasn’t seen me before with dark hair instead of blonde, but does she really not recognize me? Lina had not stopped sobbing since Zora first heard her, and now she was becoming totally hysterical again. Zora was starting to appreciate why the priestesses wore veils in public, especially given the way they were looking at the Queen. Their expressions would definitely not inspire public confidence in the monarchy—or the priesthood.

One of the priestess said quickly, “I’ll get a healer,” and ran from the room.

“I wouldn’t tell him you don’t want the venison after he went to the trouble of getting it for you,” Zora said. “He dropped it off at the kitchen this morning...it was this morning, wasn’t it?”

“No. The Choosing was yesterday.” The Shield-Bearer looked suspiciously at Zora. “What do you remember?”

The only time the Shield-Bearer had seen her, Zora had been a dog, so she probably didn’t have much to worry about from her. “I remember going to the plaza. It was crowded, and the Queen stood there and started singing...” She closed her eyes and concentrated, but nothing more came to her, just faint memories of singing and rising power and a feeling... There wasn’t anything more. Zora shook her head. “That’s all I remember. What happened? Did I faint?”

“Something like that.” It was the eldest priestess who answered. “It seems the Goddess has called you to her service. It’s a great honor—it’s been twenty years since she last called a new priestess.” She looked sternly at Zora, apparently not wanting to have two girls in hysterics. “What is your name?”

“Zora.”

Lina lifted her head and stared in astonishment. Tears still ran down her face, but now her main emotion appeared to be bewilderment.

“So, Zora, are you willing to serve the Goddess?”

Zora opened her mouth to say “Of course I am!” It was, after all, what she had been trained to do from infancy. But she remembered that this was not Eagle’s Rest, where she knew exactly what was expected of her.

Maybe I should ask a few questions before I make any vows.

Zora looked down at the gown she was wearing and up at the priestesses. She had never seen them without veils, nor had she ever heard any of them utter a single syllable outside of this... “Where are we? Is this some kind of temple?”

“After a fashion,” the eldest priestess said. “We’re in a complex of caves and tunnels under the palace. The Goddess is the Earth, and she is usually worshipped outdoors. Properly speaking, this is not a temple, but it’s easier to call it one. There is a meditation chapel for the Queen, the chamber where you woke up, a library, and living quarters for those of us who attend the Queen.”

“So if I say yes, am I stuck down here for the rest of my life?” Zora thought of the friends she had started to make during guard training, of the swimming that would continue through the summer, and of Kyril and Colin. “And if I say no, can I go home?”

The priestess sighed. “If you say no, we won’t force you to stay here. But if the Goddess really wants you here... As for being ‘stuck down here’ for life, this isn’t a life sentence. We are here to support the Queen while she is young and growing into her role. Once she has learned and embraced her role, we are allowed to retire and return to life outside if we wish.”

It’s a life sentence. The girl she had spent so many afternoons in the chapel with wasn’t going to “embrace her role” in any future Zora could foresee. But somehow Zora knew this was where the Goddess wanted her—and maybe I can get time off for swimming practice with the team.

“Yes.” Zora’s voice wasn’t quite as steady as she could have wished, but it was audible. “I will serve the Goddess.”

Lina switched to anger faster than Zora could blink. “You don’t know what she’s going to make you do!”

“I trust her.” I believe that she has a plan for me and this is part of it. “Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t!” Lina snarled. “It was bad enough last year when I had to marry an old man and then watch him die, but this year—” She went back to sobbing hysterically. Again.

“This year you have a Year-King your own age. Is that the problem?”

The Shield-Bearer looked at Zora in horror. “Do you know Lord Kyril?”

“Yes.” Zora couldn’t lie about that; Kyril would give her away the minute he saw her—assuming he recognized her. With her luck, he would.

The Shield-Bearer’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me he’s your brother,” she said grimly.

“He’s not,” Zora assured her. “We just grew up on the same estate.”

“What about your family?”

“My father is dead, and my mother promised me to the Goddess before I was born. I was raised to serve her.”

“I hope it works better with you than it did with her.” The Shield-Bearer looked at Lina and sighed.

Zora contemplated the Queen, who was once again sobbing into the side of the couch. It was odd to see Lina enacting the exact same sort of scene that Zora’s mother did when she got upset. “I hope so, too,” she said soberly.

~o0o~

The missing priestess returned with a healer. The healer carried a vial of pink liquid, which she poured unceremoniously down the Queen’s throat. After a few minutes Lina stopped crying, but her eyes were still red and swollen.

“Put a veil on her,” the eldest priestess ordered, “and take her back to her rooms. We don’t want anyone to see her looking like this.”

“Why don’t we just keep her here?” one of the other priestesses asked, and then looked at Zora. “Oh, that’s right. We don’t have a spare cell anymore.”

“Until one of us dies,” another priestess muttered nervously, watching as two of the priestesses pulled Lina to her feet, put a veil over her head, and escorted her out of the room.

“Why should one of you die?” Zora asked, now completely bewildered.

“There are usually four priestess, plus the Queen, who is the High Priestess,” the one who had suggested keeping Lina there explained. “So there are five cells.” She gestured to five curtained doorways along one side of the room. “In the past a new priestess has been chosen when one of us has died, but I’ve never heard of one being chosen before one of us died.”

“Maybe the Goddess wants me for something else, then.” Zora hoped she sounded calmer than she felt. Yes, I wanted to serve the Goddess, but this isn’t at all what I expected.

“Then why are you here?” the nervous one asked.

“To learn?” It was all Zora could come up with at the moment.

“That makes sense,” the eldest priestess said. “We’ll train you as we would any new priestess, and in time we will know what the Goddess wants.”

“Have her attend the Queen as soon as possible,” the Shield-Bearer said. “Having someone closer to her own age may help—there isn’t one of us not old enough to be her mother—and Zora can also serve as an example of wholehearted obedience to the will of the Goddess.”

“As opposed to token obedience with whining, sulking, moping, and the occasional fit of hysterics to liven things up,” the Eldest sighed. “I haven’t seen behavior like that since the year her father was chosen.”

“Don’t remind me,” the Shield-Bearer groaned. “I had to choke Druscilla unconscious to keep her from disrupting the ritual.”

“She would never have done as Queen,” one of the priestesses sighed.

Do they mean my mother Druscilla? I can’t imagine her as Queen here; she’d be worse than Lina.

“But is what we have any better?” another asked.

“Presumably this is the will of the Goddess,” the Eldest said. “We must have faith.”

“It’s not as if we have anything else,” someone muttered.

“In a way it is a shame about Lord Kyril,” the Eldest remarked. “She was actually behaving better when she had him for company.”

“But she’ll still have him for company, won’t she?” Zora said.

“The king has his Companions to spend time with, and the Queen doesn’t actually have to see much of him if she doesn’t want to.”

“I guess that would help if it was somebody she hated. But she already knows and likes him, so there’s no point in avoiding him now, is there?”

“Unless she thinks avoiding him now will make his death easier to bear,” the eldest priestess said.

I’m not supposed to know about this, so I had better pretend I don’t. “His death?”

“The king is sacrificed at the end of the summer.”

“Sacrificed as in killed? I thought it was symbolic—after all, his father was a Year-King, wasn’t he?” I’m supposed to know that, I think. This is getting confusing.

“The Sacrifice is not an empty ritual,” the priestess said sternly. “The king is given to the river, to mingle his blood with that of the Goddess.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

It was the Shield-Bearer who answered. “There’s a terrace next to the river, just above the waterfall. The king steps off that and is swept over the waterfall.”

“Right into the rocks below, probably.” Zora remembered them vividly from her first day of training. “And the water is very rough there. So the king would have to be a really good swimmer...” She was reminded of Lord Ranulf’s advanced swimming lessons. “Kyril should be able to do it.”

“Just because his father could doesn’t mean he can.”

“True. But if he doesn’t, his father is going to be seriously annoyed with him.”

“He told him how he survived,” the Shield-Bearer said.

“His parents knew that he was coming here, so I’d guess his father told him everything he thought he might need to know. Besides, Lord Ranulf teaches every child on his estate to swim. Even I can do it.”

The Shield-Bearer sighed and shook her head. “He would.” She frowned at Zora. “You must remember, Zora, that this subject is taboo here. It is a sacred mystery, and it is not to be spoken of outside the temple. Whatever you know, or think you know, or guess, do not speak of it!”

“When she leaves these rooms,” the eldest priestess pointed out, “she’ll be veiled.”

The Shield-Bearer nodded, looking relieved, and the priestess turned to Zora. “We don’t speak when we’re veiled. We attend the Queen, but we don’t take an active part in public life.”

“What do the priestesses do?” What have I agreed to?

The eldest priestess actually smiled. “That’s what you’re here to learn.”

“If I might make a suggestion,” the Shield-Bearer said, “teach her everything that the Queen is supposed to know. If we are incredibly lucky, perhaps she can pass on what she learns to the Queen.”

“It’s worth a try,” the priestess agreed. “Goddess knows the wretched girl refuses to learn what she needs to know from any of us.”