The stones before
the altar in the apex of the chapel held the chill of the Dark Moon and brought
thoughts of the coming winter. Ulrica
steeled herself against the numbing cold and stared into the scrying cup. The still water showed no images of what had
been or what was to come.
She breathed deeply
and sought to calm her anxiety. A young
woman’s fate depended on the answers she received. “Midra, my sister must be swayed to follow
the way You would have her walk. The
misbegotten must enter your service. If
not, there is no one of the clan Keltoi to serve you. This temple will fall the way the others
have.”
The water in the cup
stirred. Colors appeared. Red, blue, white, yellow. The churning increased. *Beware.*
“Midra, beware
what? Does it mean if Norna becomes a
priestess she will bring danger?”
Red filled the
cup. The Warrior’s color and that of
Keltoi. The curfew bell chimed the ninth
hour and cut short her meditation. She
heard the scuff of boots behind her.
Bodlesa’s laughter rose. Ulrica
drained the cup and placed it on the altar.
She rose to face her sister.
“What said
Midra?” Bodlesa laughed.
“I haven’t
interpreted the meaning of Her signs.
Will you permit Norna to enter the temple as a novice?”
“You know the
answer. She is doubly misbegotten and
has no place in life except as a drab.”
“Doubly? What do you mean?”
“She is
unacknowledged by dame or sire.” Bodlesa
sat on one of the benches. “Her first
cries were made to the Dark Moon sixteen years ago. Is it not among the teachings of the temples
that those born during that lunar bring disaster to all? I believe I am right.”
The impact of her
sister’s words washed through Ulrica. As
she struggled to find an answer, she heard sounds in the hall. Had the warriors arrived early or was some
underpriestess spying in hopes of learning something she could use in a quest
for power? Ulrica brushed past the bench
where her sister lounged and peered into the shadows. She saw nothing suspicious and turned to her
twin. “So be it. Norna will serve the temple as a drab.”
Bodlesa rose. “Then in the morning, I’ll leave for the
megara.”
“I’m afraid
not. You have a duty to the clan and the
temple. You must give birth to two
daughters.”
“One childbirth was
enough to endure.”
“Then you will
remain here until you agree.” Ulrica
called to the waiting warriors. “Take my
sister to a meditation cell.”
“You have no right
to order me to do anything. I am Keltoi
of Keltoi.”
“And I am the Voice
of Midra. You will do your duty. Until you agree to the demands of the
goddess, you will remain in the cell.”
The women grasped
Bodlesa’s arms. She spat. “With a man I did not choose.”
“The goddess cares
not for who sires your daughters, only that his lines are pure and you
acknowledge the infants.” Ulrica
smiled. After a few doses of somma,
Bodlesa would have no choice except to follow the command.
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