Bishop (The Pawn Series Book 2)

by Robin Roseau

  Each of them appeared to be lit from within, or perhaps the lighting was in the walls themselves and it shined through the stones.

  It wasn't blinding. It was subdued, but it was everywhere, and it was glorious.

  I turned to her in awe. "Why didn't you bring me here sooner?"

  "You weren't ready. There is somewhere I must bring you, and there is a word you must say. You know the word, but do not say it yet."

  And so I nodded.

  "And you must feel that word. Terélmarestra told me your interpretation of this word, and it is good you can take it to heart. The Goddess will not mind, I do not think."

  I nodded again, then turned another slow circle.

  The room was an octagon, although as the walls rose, the corners blended, becoming rounded, and so the dome was smooth and not faceted, except by the gems themselves. And centered in each wall was an archway, similar to the one we had come through. Engraved into the lintel above each door was a word, although none that I knew.

  In the center of the room was a raised platform of smooth stone, another octagon to match the walls. And in the center of that, made of gleaming white stone, was an altar, a third octagon.

  "We do not approach directly," Vérundia said. "We circle the room, always turned inward, and drawing closer. Not everyone stands upon the dais, and not everyone touches the altar. And we each have our places."

  "How do you know your place?"

  "I will teach you. We did not enter through the doorway we will use during the summer solstice, and you and I will not always use the same entrance for other rites. So do not count steps."

  I smiled.

  "Will it offend you to hold hands?"

  "No."

  "In the future, when you are ready to lead celebrations, but still desire my assistance, then you will stand on the right, and me on the left. But until that time, I will take the right." And so she held out her left hand, and I moved to her side.

  And then she paused, and I saw her reach up and wipe a tear away.

  "Vérundia?"

  "I have dreamed of this day, Yallameenara. And when I pushed you harder than was right, it was because I wanted this day so very much. I am so sorry."

  "We will not discuss that in this place," I said. "I am happy to be here with you now."

  "Thank you for that," she said.

  "They are not just pretty words. You should know by now I don't do that. I speak from my heart. This is the most beautiful room I have ever seen, and I am happy to be here."

  "Then that is good," she said. "Now, when we walk, we must not walk into anything, but we look to the altar. Later, I will show you more of the room, but we must first greet the Goddess. And so we look to the altar, and we walk slightly to the side, around the room. You must walk so that I can see the altar, but we must be side-by-side at the same time."

  And she turned us both, and then we turned again. I looked back and forth, and she had a clear view of the altar, looking past me. And then we began to walk.

  We traveled twice around, slowly, taking our time, and then she turned us closer, and we approached more directly.

  "We step up together," she said. "And our right foot first. We are in no hurry, and we step carefully. Please do not trip, if you can avoid it."

  I smiled, and then I let her lead us, but stayed at her side. We stepped up, and then it was still two more steps to the altar.

  It was smooth stone, like a thick table with a solid base. On the top, at the edge, were inscribed eight words, each facing outwards, but only visible once we stepped closer. And near the center there were eight more words, but I could see they were all the same word, and it was the first word Terél had taught me.

  "Prestainamatta," I whispered.

  "Yes," she said. "During our celebrations, we place things upon this altar, but we never obscure any of the words. We may at times rest upon the altar, but we do so without obscuring the words, either. However, you may brush them with your fingertips, if you do so reverently."

  "Does it matter which hand?"

  "I wish us to hold hands while we remain in this room. Will you mind?"

  "No."

  "As you come into power, this touch will carry power between us. For now, it is just holding hands, but this is important to me."

  And so I nodded then lifted my left hand. Carefully I brushed fingers across the word closest to us. The words were cut into the stone, deep, precise cuts, and I did not know how it was done, and so I asked.

  "The Goddess," she replied. "The Goddess made this place. It was not made by us, but it was made for us, and for her."

  Then I reached, and I brushed the words in the center, and I said the word again.

  And in my heart, I began to believe.

  Then I brushed the first word again. "What does this word mean?"

  She said the word, but then she said, "I am going to let Terélmarestra teach you the words, Yallameenara. These words are always the first we teach, so you will know them all very soon."

  "I imagine you mean this afternoon."

  She laughed. "Yes, I mean this afternoon."

  "This is an important word."

  "These nine words you see are the basis of our devotion, Yallameenara. At the center, our Prestainamatta, and surrounding her, the other words of our faith. You will see."

  "All right."

  "I am going to greet the Goddess now. You will not know these words, but you will soon." Then her tone changed, and I could hear the reverence and love. She spoke for a minute or two, and at the end, she bowed her head for a moment.

  If the Goddess tried to answer, I could not tell.

  "I know you have questions," Vérundia said.

  "Do you hear her?"

  "No. Only you will hear her or see her."

  "That seems unfair. You devote your life."

  "And I receive her blessings. When I was younger, I wished I had been born as the high priestess, and I think many of us feel the same way. But I feel the weight of leadership, and I will step aside as far as you will allow when you assume your place as our leader."

  "Vérundia, I couldn't."

  "Ah, we will not discuss that in this place, then," she said. "I think you may one day change your mind, after the Goddess has begun to speak to you. She will, after all, offer her wisdom."

  I said nothing to that. And so we stood together for several minutes, each lost in our thoughts. But then she said, "I am going to show you how we leave, and then we will enter again by the proper entrance for this festival. It is the one matching this word before us. I will explain the basic rites, and all our rites follow the same pattern. And that will be enough today. I am feeling very emotional, and I think perhaps you are as well."

  "Good emotions," I said.

  "Mine as well. We will turn, and we will exit the way we entered, circling around, looking inward. We turn by you stepping backward, and this is the part that may be tricky for two. Do not fall from the dais, so move no faster than you can do so with assurance."

  And so we each took one small step directly back, and then I took several small steps until we were at an angle, still able to see the altar.

  "Now we step sideways, and this time you will step down before I do."

  And so I took sideways steps, only two, until I found the edge of the dais. And then I stepped down, and a moment later, Vérundia. And then we began our gracious circle of the room, one and a half times around, exiting the room opposite where we had stood, backing out of the room at the end so we did not turn our backs on the altar until we were ten steps down the corridor. Then she turned us, and we walked another dozen steps before we came to a stop.

  She turned to me and then surprised me with a hug. I let her, saying nothing, and even gently wrapped my arms around her. "Thank you," she whispered.

  I didn't really understand, and so I said nothing, but a part of me was pleased to have brought her this pleasure.

  Finally she released me.

  "It
would take us twenty minutes to work to the other side," she explained. "We will return to the Heart of the Heart and work around the edge, then leave by the other door. While within the Heart of the Heart, we always turn towards the altar."

  "I understand."

  And so that was what we did. Then we turned around again, and we entered all over again, circling around until we stood in place.

  "During our entrance, there is a song," she said. "It is a different song for each season. I do not believe you have time to learn it, but no one will mind if you do not sing. However, I hope in the future you will put your heart into it."

  "I will."

  "We will not be the first to enter, but we are not the last. Others will arrive first and surround the room along the exterior. We will then walk to our place, and they will follow us to theirs. And then the others arrive. The song repeats until everyone has arrived."

  "All right."

  "We greet the Goddess. You and I will lead this, and the others follow. It is a shorter greeting than the one I offered today."

  "How will I help to lead?"

  "I will teach you. You will not have troubles with this part.

  "Once the Goddess begins to speak to you she could appear at any point during the celebration. This will not happen during this celebration. We assume she is here and listening. In the future, she may show herself and listen, or she may choose to join in, or she may choose to talk to you. If ever she appears, you watch her, not the altar."

  "Would I recognize her?"

  "I am told she is hard to ignore," Vérundia said with a smile. "If she indicates she wishes to speak, you hold a hand high, and we stop for her. She may tell you to finish what we are doing, or she may begin to speak."

  The enormity of what she was saying began to settle into me, but still I thought it was all quite ridiculous. I was no high priestess. Ridiculous.

  "We do not come here to beseech the Goddess for favors," Vérundia continued. "Nor is it the sort of worship other gods demand. It is a celebration, a celebration of the words on this altar. After the greeting, we then welcome the celebrants, offering a speech. I wish us to write and say this speech together, alternating. There is nothing wrong if it is written. Sometimes I write something. Sometimes I speak from my heart."

  "Which language?"

  "If the Goddess shows herself, everything can change," she said. "Normally I would use the language of the Goddess, and once you are able, we will return to that. But we can use Altearan."

  "All right."

  "Then there are songs. Some are solo songs. For these, you and I collect the singer, and this is the only time we are in this room that we may turn away from the altar. We bring her to our place here, and she sings, facing the altar, with us standing behind her. We will stand holding hands, but our free hand will be on her shoulders in support. She returns to her place alone."

  She walked me through the rest of the ceremony, but then she said, "We also have a time in each of the festivals for anyone who wishes to make a vow. This is a very personal thing, and each woman who wishes to offer a vow may do so in her own way. Some will wish to stand where the singers do, and we offer our blessing the way we do the singers. Sometimes the vows are to the Goddess. At other times, the vows are to others in the room. Sometimes the vow is to both, and the woman will speak the vow twice."

  "All right."

  "It is customary for those of greatest rank to speak their vows at the end, but there are times when someone's vow is so important that she will approach me ahead of time and ask for the final place. This is not done as an absolute, of course, because no one knows who else may wish to make her vow, but we give time for the acolytes first, and we encourage them to make some vow, although not necessarily at each celebration."

  "I understand."

  "I will be making a vow, and unless you ask for the final place, I will be going last."

  "I would like to think about that," I said.

  "After vows, there are more songs." She explained the rest of the ceremony. And I thought it was quite lovely.

  * * * *

  Terél came to me after lunch. We hugged, and then she blindfolded me and bound our hands. She led me from the Heart of the Goddess.

  Outside, it was raining, so we remained near under the entrance arch, seated facing each other.

  "Tell me the word you have learned, and what it means."

  "Prestainamatta," I said. "It means 'Goddess', but it is the word used only for the Goddess we hold close to our hearts, each in our way."

  She smiled at that. "I like that definition," she said. "Good. Today I am going to teach you eight words. They are the building blocks for our devotion. I believe you have had a hint."

  "I have," I said.

  "Today you stood before a word. Ralisht. It means life. The summer solstice is a celebration of life, and so this is the word for this celebration."

  She taught me the words. She taught them very carefully, even spelling them upon my hand, but I think that was an excuse to hold my hand.

  Life.

  Love.

  Joy.

  A gift to be given, which was one word in the language of the Goddess, and a gift to be received, which was another single word.

  Trust.

  Serenity.

  Change.

  The taught me the words, explaining that these were large concepts, and that there were other words that could be used as well, or that should be part of the definitions. "The Goddess does not use as many different words for similar concepts, but instead means more with a single word. So life also is about birth and growth and even death, for death is a part of life. And change is about beginnings and ends, and everything in between. Do you see?"

  "I see."

  So she taught me the words, and then she encouraged me to lie with my head in her lap while she spoke, slowly and carefully, as she caressed me sweetly. And then, some time later she said, "Now we shall see if I am a good teacher." And she said a word, and I told her what it meant, or she offered a meaning, and I told her the word.

  And we agreed she was again a good teacher.

  * * * *

  Other people began to arrive, most of them women, but also some families, some pilgrims, some friends.

  The priestesses and acolytes stayed within the Heart of the Goddess. The others stayed in the village or made camp nearby.

  Vérundia and I together wrote our welcoming speech, and we practiced the celebration, although we used the Heart of the Heart sparingly. A few times, we borrowed some of the other priestesses and acolytes for larger practice, but never in the Heart of the Heart.

  I asked Terél if she could teach me the song to be sung as we entered. She and Larien taught me together, the three of us sitting outside, as the day was pleasant, surrounded by the small creatures who came to listen to us.

  But then the kestrel swooped, and I worried for one of Terél's creatures, thinking the bird had espied an easy meal. But it didn't strike one of the animals, who all scattered anyway, but instead landed upon Larien's shoulder. She turned and cooed to the bird, the two leaning together, forehead to forehead. Later, she would apologize to Terél, and the two hugged briefly.

  * * * *

  More arrived. I received fresh attention, although I thought Vérundia or one of the other women warned the newcomers of my peculiarities.

  The table grew, but it grew unevenly, and Larien got pushed further down. I looked at this in dismay, but Terél spoke quietly to the women on our side, and they made room so we could sit opposite Larien.

  That prompted one of the newcomers to stand and ask, "Why is the high priestess way at that end of the table?"

  Vérundia said, "She wishes to sit more in keeping with her knowledge among us while not being buried past the acolytes."

  "But why did she just move further away?"

  "I imagine she chooses her position relative to Larien and Terél," Vérundia explained. "As Larien has moved down from her accustome
d place, so moves the high priestess."

  "But she is too far away!" The woman looked at me, then back at Vérundia, and her look was one of dismay.

  "She has good reason for sitting near Larien and Terél," Vérundia said. "She knows I wish her to take the place at the head, but I am being patient with her."

  "But-"

  "Perhaps," Vérundia said, "we have a situation our traditions do not address. Perhaps we can be flexible. Perhaps rather than our high priestess choosing her position relative to Terél and Larien, she would be allowed the centermost seat at this long table, so she is nearest to all. And then Terél and Larien can take the seats they prefer, relative to the high priestess, and then the rest of us may fill in around us. This perhaps leaves all three of them out of place by tradition, but is most comfortable for all."

  I offered a small nod, and so there was nothing to be done but for a general shuffling of seats. I thought it was quite silly, but once we were all seated, Vérundia wore a smile of satisfaction.

  She had moved me three full seats closer to the head of the table where she really wanted me.

  But it was two nights later that our numbers grew too large for one long table. When we arrived, there were four tables set up, two for the priestesses and acolytes, and two for our other guests. But Vérundia stood about, asking people not to take their seats yet. This left them puzzled, but once everyone had arrived, she said, "We wish to experiment with another break in our tradition. Our high priestess makes this only as a suggestion, but I find the concept has merit, so I wish us to try it. If we don't like it, we will return to our old traditions."

  And then she explained my idea. I could tell some people weren't pleased, most of them the ones who would have sat at the head table, but it was by no means everyone who would have sat there.

  But then I put an end to it. "Of course, if we wish the traditional way, I am a newcomer here, and it was perhaps inappropriate for me to say anything. I would take my place at the proper table." And then I moved to the middle of the table that would have been considered the lesser of the tables.

  Every bit of grumbling stopped, but when I looked, Vérundia looked deeply pleased, and I wasn't entirely sure why.