Bishop (The Pawn Series Book 2)

by Robin Roseau

She talked for a half hour, describing basic grammar. But I think she could tell it was growing too much, because she grew still. Then she asked, "Did you want to lay your head in my lap? I think that would be nice, don't you?"

  "All right," I said.

  It took some adjusting, and in the end, I stepped over her so I was stretched out to her right, my right arm resting against her leg, and her hand down so our bound wrists were still together.

  "Close your eyes," she said. I obeyed, and with her free hand, she began stroking my face. I thought she was being naughty again, but it felt nice, so I didn't stop her.

  "I am going to speak for a while, just so you grow accustomed to the words. Let them flow over you. Do not worry about what I am saying. Just listen to the sounds. I am going to speak carefully, but we always speak her words carefully, so this is how I will always speak when speaking in her words."

  "All right."

  And then, she did just that. I lay there, with her caressing my face and brushing fingers through my hair, and she spoke, slowly and gently. And like her hands were caressing my face, her words caressed my ears. And I realized something. When I had spoken the words my mother taught me, the sounds were harsh, much like when I spoke Arrlottan. But when she spoke the same language, the words flowed smoothly, sounds that I would say harshly said far more gently.

  But I relaxed, and I listened, and I let her make me feel good.

  In hindsight, I think she used a little of her magic. Not very much, but just enough I would relax with her, that I would grow comfortable. And if she did, I didn’t mind.

  But the words came to an end, and her hand had long stopped caressing, but was only touching. I opened my eyes, and I turned to look up at her.

  She was smiling at me, a soft smile.

  "I think I like our lessons together, Terél," I said. "If I had known they could be this pleasant, I might have asked for them to begin sooner."

  "I'm going to make you work, you know."

  "I know."

  "But we will spend a little time like this every day, at least a little time, and maybe more than a little."

  "I'd like that."

  She caressed me again, but this time it was meant to wake me a little further. And so carefully I sat up until we were facing each other.

  "I am only going to teach you one word today," she said. "It is the most important word I will ever teach you, and you must learn this word perfectly."

  And then she spoke. "Prestainamatta."

  "I know this word," I said. "It was one of the words my mother taught me.

  "Yes," she said. Then she said it very slowly. "Pres-tain-a-ma-ta".

  We worked on the word for at least ten minutes. It was not enough to make the sounds. The accent must be right, and even the cadence right. Finally she said, "I believe that is as good as your accent will allow, and I hope the Goddess does not object."

  "I can be no more than what I am," I said. "What does it mean?"

  "There are several words that mean god or Goddess," she said. "The language does not distinguish between the two. But this word means The Goddess That I Worship. And we only use it when we mean Yahamala. And we never use another word when we mean her. Do you see?"

  "I do not know if I worship her, Terél. I don't know if I should use this word."

  "You must," she said. "Oh, Yalla, you must."

  "But... I don't even know if she's real."

  "She is," Terél said firmly. "You must believe me."

  "How do you know?"

  "How else did my hair change? How else do I have my magic, even if it is very small? How else did you come to us if not through her influence? How is it that you were the girl taken from the horse people that day instead of another girl? How is it that your mother taught you the words she taught you? Your mother knew, Yalla. She didn't simply believe. She didn't simply have faith. She knew, because your mother spoke to the Goddess, and often."

  "I never saw her-"

  "The Goddess is said not to travel so far. There is no record she has ever traveled beyond Alteara. Yalla, she is real. I promise you. Do you have any other gods you would worship instead?"

  "I do not know if I would worship any gods at all."

  "Could you revere her? It is not the same as worship, as long as there are no other gods you also revere."

  "I know of no other gods," I said. "I-" I thought some more. "Is she a kind Goddess? In the books, the gods and Goddesses are not always kind. They play tricks. They are cruel."

  "She is not. She is only kindness and wisdom."

  "You know this?"

  "I know this, Yalla. Please, this is the word you must use for her, and you must feel it in your heart. You must."

  I thought some more, then nodded. "I will use this word. Prestainamatta. But in my heart, it means the Goddess I Revere. And it means, The Goddess of My Mother. And if ever she talks to me, I will tell her that is what the words mean to me, and it's too bad if she doesn't like it."

  "All right," Terél said. "But will you do one more thing for me? Will you please not say that to anyone else at all?"

  I laughed. "Our secret," I said. Then I gestured. "And perhaps the rabbit's, but I do not believe she will tattle."

  She looked over. "Oh, no. Queenie is no tattletale. She will not share our secrets. Mousalita, now. She blabs to everyone who will listen, but I checked, and she is not about, even though she can be quite sneaky."

  I pointed up. "I believe the waiting kestrel has something to do with that."

  "Oh, I believe you might be right." She smiled. "Have I been a good teacher?"

  "You have been an excellent teacher, and you have won a reward, if you still want it."

  "Oh, yes, I definitely want it."

  "Well then." And at that, I wasn't shy. She still leaned against the tree, so I shifted and then climbed into her lap. We pressed together, with me taller than her, and I cupped her cheek.

  And then I lowered my lips.

  She may have used more of her magic, for that kiss was certainly magical, and it went on, and on, until finally I pulled away, but then hugged her tightly, my head over her shoulder, one arm around her, then other behind my own back as she hugged me with both of hers.

  We stayed that way for a long time, both our hearts beating.

  "Was it a good kiss?" she whispered.

  "Yes," I said. "If you desire future rewards for good teaching, I think you shall have them."

  "I'm so glad, Yalla."

  * * * *

  We met daily after that, always in my quarters. She blindfolded me, bound our wrists, and then led me through the Heart of the Goddess. On poor days, we sat near the entrance, listening to the weather while she taught me, but on nice days we went outside.

  I never mistreated her trust, and she never mistreated mine.

  She was a good teacher, and our lessons always ended with a kiss. And if there were more than kisses, it is too early to tell of those special touches.

  But we also became friends, and so that caused other changes. I had disrupted the seating style at dinner when I refused to take the place of honor at the head of the table. Larien and I instead remained at the far end, past the acolytes. But two nights later, in front of everyone, Terél asked Vérundia if Larien and I could take our proper places at the table.

  "I have always wished that our high priestess would take the seat due to her," Vérundia replied.

  "Yallameenara does not feel she is due that seat," Terél said. "She knows less than our acolytes. But she is rightly Lady Yallameenara, girl of the horse people, foster daughter to the queen of Framara, and our future high priestess, even if she is not yet fully suited for the role. She speaks, reads, and writes three languages and is learning a fourth, and no one else here can say the same. I would argue her place is not at the furthest end of the table, even if she refuses the head."

  Vérundia considered her, and then she inclined her head. "Lady Yallameenara, when first you arrived, you explained you took th
e seats because you could not communicate with anyone but Larien. That is no longer the case. Will you accept reassignment?"

  "I do not wish to displace anyone else," I said. "And I do not feel the head of the table should be mine. Perhaps, in the future, if the Goddess truly does speak to me, I will change my mind. But can you fault me?"

  "No," she said. "You show modesty I can admire. Terélmarestra, I believe you have a suggestion."

  "I would like Yallameenara here, beside me," she said. "And Larien across. This may not be a perfect solution, but it allows more of us to speak with our high priestess. I cannot imagine a woman of ten and nine has much in common with our youngest acolytes, and they seem quite shy with her as well, but she is a woman of the world, and perhaps the conversation here, near the middle, would suit all of us."

  "Lady Yallameenara, what do you say to this fresh arrangement?"

  Larien was watching this carefully, and I saw her throw some glances at Terél as well. And so I said, "I wonder if Larien has an opinion. She may prefer another arrangement."

  Larien considered carefully before answering. "If not for my duties to our high priestess -- whether she accepts that title or not -- my rightful seat is here, two further than the one Terél offers to me."

  "I do not mind shifting down," said one of the displaced women.

  "Nor I," said the other. "Especially as this places me closer to our high priestess, and I believe I would enjoy the conversations."

  "We do not mind shifting," said the women I would be displacing. "Especially me," said the one who normally sat to Terél's left, but soon to be my left."

  "Lady Yallameenara," asked Vérundia. "What do you say?"

  I inclined my head. "I believe I would enjoy the available conversations."

  "Very good. I will tell you this." She pointed to the head of the table. "That is where I wish you, and I intend to move you in that direction, even if it is only a few seats at a time."

  "If the Goddess chooses to speak to me, and if we share kind words, and if I feel worthy, I will accept your decision. Until that happens, I do not believe my place is any higher than this, and I would have set myself closer to the acolytes, as befitting my studies." I paused. "What happens when more arrive?"

  "The table grows," said Vérundia. "And then we add a third table, but I do not care to do that, as it breaks us into two, and there are people I would rather keep at this table than move to the lesser table."

  "I will offer a suggestion, although I do not believe you will take it."

  "Oh?"

  "Perhaps when it is time to split the tables, you should not assign places by rank, but instead encourage people to intentionally muddle things. Then there is no high and low table. I imagine the people closest to the head of this table rarely have a chance to talk casually with people nearer the middle, but perhaps they would enjoy that. And perhaps it would bring everyone a little closer together. This is only a casual suggestion, and I would not wish to be one to flout tradition."

  She offered a brief smile. "From what I know of you, I think perhaps you very much enjoy the occasional disregard of time honored ways. However, your suggestion has merit, and I believe we should all think on it before we come to conclusions. Please be seated."

  It seems like a small thing. It didn't really matter to me where I sat. But I enjoyed Terél's company, and so sitting next to her was better than being seated at the end. At the same time, I would not have wished to lose Larien's company. And allowing the change meant I grew to know some of the other priestesses better than I would have.

  Which I'm sure pleased Vérundia.

  Rites

  It was the morning after my first lesson with Terél that Vérundia again came to my room. I invited her in and even offered a seat, which was showing her more acceptance than I'd done in the past. While I’d allowed Larien to teach me Altearan, my relationship with Vérundia had remained cold.

  "What can I do for you today?"

  "You have agreed to assist with the celebration of the summer solstice."

  "I have, although I feel this is a mistake."

  "I disagree with you. Will you fight me?"

  "No, I will not fight you."

  She inclined her head. "Thank you. You are not prepared to assume your proper role."

  I laughed. "Of course I'm not. I'm not prepared to assume any role at all."

  "But this is important to me, and I believe it is important to all of us. And so I wish to include you, regardless."

  "I have said I will not fight you, Vérundia."

  "I am coming to something, and I think you may change your mind. I cannot assign to you any of the traditional roles. I could easily train you in the simple roles of an acolyte, but that would be very inappropriate, not only because you are the high priestess, but because you are not a child of ten years old."

  "I would not mind."

  "I would. Everyone else would feel uncomfortable. And the Goddess might feel slighted in how we treat you during an important celebration." I didn't say anything to that. If the Goddess cared how they treated me, she would have words with them, although I realized if they were right, those words would be through me.

  "I bow to your wisdom in these regards, Vérundia."

  "Do you really?"

  I shrugged. She could believe what she wished.

  "I would like you to take a special role, beside me. I have been performing the rites that are rightly yours, or your mother's. I would like us to do them together, and continue to do so in the future until you are able to do them without me."

  "I do not want to be a cause of ruin of your celebration, Vérundia."

  "We would do it together," she repeated. "I am confident. I do the celebration from memory, but the Goddess will not be offended if we write the words."

  "She may be deeply offended if I cannot say them properly, and I have little faith I will ever be able to do so."

  "Will you trust me? If we decide it isn't going to work, perhaps it is sufficient you simply stand beside me, and help hold the things I must hold. We would hold them together."

  "As long as you are prepared for that." I paused. "We haven't come to the part where we fight."

  She offered a slight smile. "You would need to let me teach you, at least until the summer solstice. And you would need to practice with me in the future, when we draw near to other celebrations. I would be your main instructor, if you would have me, but I think you would prefer someone else."

  I thought about it. "We have stress between us."

  "It is entirely my fault," she said.

  "Not entirely. I have been intentionally difficult."

  "Your position was justified," she said. "I do not fault you. Are we past it?"

  "I don't know," I said. I thought about it further. "No. We're probably not really past it. And of course, I still wish to return to the land I consider home."

  "And everyone here is working hard to change your mind." She glanced at Larien, who was watching carefully. "Some are working harder than others. Others would work harder if you invited them to do so."

  "Does everyone here think about nothing other than sex?"

  "Of course we think about more than sex. We think about love, and touches, and kindness, and sweet whispered words, and glory to the Goddess in all of these things, which we consider a gift from her."

  I cocked my head. "Why hasn't anyone attempted to, oh, I don't know. Convert my attitude more? Make me read the divine books or something."

  "Would you have been willing?"

  "Probably not." I thought about it. "I will not fight you on this, Vérundia, but you must be patient with me, because I do not believe I will respond well if you chastise me for not living up to your requirements or expectations."

  She leaned forward and clasped my hands. "I will only ask that you give me what you can. If in the end, you stand beside me, and move with me, and hold the things, and say only very few words, I will be satisfied."

  "When do
we begin?"

  "Now."

  "Very well."

  She turned to Larien. "I will take her to the Heart of the Heart, but I wish you to teach her the passages another time." Larien inclined her head.

  We rose, and I followed Vérundia.

  * * * *

  She drew me to a stop and turned me to face her. "Through the next arch is the Heart of the Heart. This is only one approach, and during celebrations, we enter from several directions."

  I nodded at that.

  "Lady Yallameenara, I have one final request. Please, I beg of you, no matter how you feel about me, do not argue with me while we are in or very near the Heart of the Heart. This is our very most sacred place, a place of joy and worship, and we do not bring negative emotions into this place. Can you make this promise?"

  "What will I do if we become frustrated?"

  "We will walk apart, and pause, and then one of us will find something kind to say about the other. And the other will find something kind to say. And then if we must, we will depart. I will mark the exit you should use. We will exit in different directions, but I will retrieve you and lead you to your chambers, or elsewhere if we need to fight, or discuss."

  "I will not argue with you in this most sacred place, Vérundia."

  She inclined her head. "Thank you, Lady Yallameenara."

  I paused. "I think it's time you stopped saying Lady. I do not offer the short form, but it is a half sentence by itself to say it all."

  She smiled and inclined her head. "Thank you, Yallameenara."

  I smiled, and then she took my arm and turned me to the Heart of the Heart. Then she didn't release me until we had stepped inside.

  I came to a stop. Of course I did. I was stunned, truly stunned beyond words for several minutes. Vérundia must have expected this, because for a long time she said nothing, but when finally she did, it was only, "Welcome to the Heart of the Heart. Be forever welcome in this joyous place."

  I turned a slow circle, looking up and about me. The room was bathed in soft light, but I couldn't find the source. The ceiling soared above us, a great dome, and everywhere it glittered.

  And this time I knew they weren't just common stones. The walls and ceiling were studded in gemstones, small gemstones, huge gemstones. And they were of all colors and varieties.