Bishop (The Pawn Series Book 2)

by Robin Roseau

  “Yalla, you need someone to manage your household and see to these details,” Alta said. “At least for now, will you allow me to do so?”

  I turned to her. “A princess of Alteara is going to do this work?”

  “For this, I am not a princess. I am a member of your household, too, am I not? And I do not wish to simply be a hanger on, or only a companion. Let me do this.”

  And so I nodded.

  “Tiera, I will warn you of a few things. We are very physically comfortable with each other. I hug and kiss the members of my household. You will find some of those members will be very interested in, shall we say, offering you romantic attention. It is your choice whether to accept such offers. I hope you will find joy and love where you wish.”

  She smiled at that. “Some artists don’t like being touched. I am not one of them.”

  “So we have an agreement?”

  “You’re seriously wondering if I could possibly turn you down? Of course I’m coming!”

  “Good. Call me Yalla and give me a hug.”

  And a kiss.

  * * * *

  Alta handled everything, and that was only the beginning of me being able to say, “Alta handled everything”.

  * * * *

  Féla let Alta into my quarters. Juleena was engaged in a language lesson with Naddí, and I was carrying on a conversation with the Goddess and my priestesses. We all turned to face the Princess of Alteara.

  “Prodótar has returned with the prisoners. Mother and Father would like-“ she looked around the room briefly. “Everyone to come to the barracks. There is no need to change clothing.”

  It took only a moment to file out. There was an honor guard waiting in the corridor, so it was quite the troop that headed out of the palace and partway through the castle courtyard before arriving at the barracks used by the castle guard.

  Prodótar looked tired, but pleased. The king and queen looked reserved and perhaps tired. The three turned to us as we filed in.

  “It went well?” I asked.

  “As well as these things can,” Prodótar said. He shook his head. “What idiots. They thought they could nearly kill a priestess and then were stupid enough to keep the things they stole from her.”

  The Goddess tightened her grip on my hand when Terél provided the translation, but she said nothing.

  “We have them in cells here,” said the queen. “We would like the Goddess to identify the six she said were involved in the attack on your priestess.”

  “And there will be justice?” the Goddess asked.

  “We will ask for confessions,” said the king. “Prestainamatta, if we offer mercy, confessions are easier to obtain.”

  “I want justice,” the Goddess replied.

  “There will be justice,” he assured her. “If they do not confess, there will be a trial. And by our laws, they must have time to mount a defense.”

  “I need you to go home to Marport,” the Goddess told me. “I cannot help at this trial if you are not here. I will trust Tradódid and Mesenorié.”

  I repeated only that last part, and a moment later, they led us to the cells.

  “We’ll transfer them to the city guard after this,” the queen explained. “But Prodótar brought them straight here.”

  “The evidence comes behind,” he added. “It will take a few more days.”

  The Goddess said nothing to that.

  There were four cells, and all of them waited on benches. They barely looked at us when we filed into the space before the cells.

  It took the Goddess seconds to point to the ones who had attacked Hálameenisha. “Those two were present, but did not lay hands on our priestess.” She cocked her head. “But that one has killed before.” She looked around. “As has that one.”

  The queen sighed. “Do you know whom?”

  “No, but I can see the stain of murder on their souls. I am not able to look as closely at the others, so I cannot say they are innocent of similar deeds.”

  “Do you know when or where?” the king asked.

  “No.”

  “Prestainamatta,” I asked, “Can you tell if anyone is completely innocent?”

  Holding my hand, we wandered from cell to cell. She gazed at each in turn. Finally she said, “No. I am sorry. They are not mine. I can read the six who helped to assault our priestess because of the direct violence to someone who is mine. I cannot read anything from the others.”

  “What if they pledged themselves to you and begged you to accept them?”

  “If they are fully honest, then I can see into their souls. The stain from petty crimes is difficult to tell from the stains all humans hold from other stains. Crimes such as murder stand out. It would be difficult to say someone is completely innocent by this age, even the youngest.”

  “So it wouldn’t help?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt,” she said. “But I would rather not. I would be obligated to accept them, and I am not sure I want to.”

  “I understand completely.”

  That conversation was entirely in the language of the Goddess, and no one translated. My priestesses would have understood my side of the conversation, but no one else heard the Goddess, and I didn’t share what she said. With the Goddess in tow, I stepped to the king and queen. “How can we help?”

  “We will draw the six from their cells,” said the queen quietly. “I wish the Goddess to make her statements again, clearly, one by one.”

  And so that was done, hulking guards entering each cell to withdraw the six the Goddess had identified. They were lined up, two guards assigned to each of them, and we moved to the first in line.

  “This one directly assaulted our priestess,” the Goddess said.

  “Vérundia,” I called out firmly. “Translate my words.” I pointed at the person in front of me. “This woman assaulted our priestess. This must be a violation of more than one crime. I demand justice.”

  “She lies!” the woman spat back at me. “I never hurt no one.”

  It was Hastía that translated back for the Goddess.

  “She accuses me of lying?” the Goddess spat.

  “No, Prestainamatta,” I said. “She accuses me of lying.”

  “You wouldn’t dare speak my words falsely.”

  “We should talk about that some other time,” I said.

  “Well, then we should demonstrate you speak truthfully. You are mine, my little High Priestess.”

  “I am.”

  She tugged on our bond, and after a moment, the room grew brighter. And I grew lighter. It took perhaps fifteen seconds, and the room was nearly blinding bright. Several people shielded their eyes, and we looked down at everyone, barely avoiding the ceiling.

  “Repeat your accusation, Yallameenara,” said the Goddess.

  “This woman assaulted our priestess!” I yelled. “We demand justice.”

  “The Goddess herself has spoken,” the queen stated clearly. “Confess and we will offer mercy with our justice.”

  The woman would have glared at me, I thought, if I weren’t glowing so brightly. Instead she squinted up and then dropped her gaze. “I didn’t do nothing.”

  “So be it,” I said. And then the Goddess pulled me to the next.

  “This man assaulted my priestess. He struck her and held her down.”

  I turned to her. “Held her down?”

  “She was not raped,” the Goddess said gently. “Now repeat my words.”

  I pointed. “This man assaulted our priestess. I demand justice.”

  We went from one to the next. Only the last one confessed, one who hadn’t directly assaulted Hálameenisha, but was certainly otherwise as guilty as the others.

  Then, slowly, the Goddess lowered me, and the light faded. “I wish to return to our quarters,” the Goddess said. “I wish to be alone with you.”

  I didn’t wait. I swept from the barracks, calling for Naddí and Féla.

  * * * *

  There was a knock, two hours later.
The Goddess hadn’t stopped holding me the entire time, and we were wrapped in each other, lying on my bed. That was all we had done: held each other. But there came a knock, and then Naddí entered cautiously.

  “It’s fine, Naddí,” I called out.

  She came to the side of the bed and then knelt.

  “I want only to know there will be justice,” said the Goddess. “I make no demands on the style, and I want to know nothing more of it.”

  I told Naddí that. She nodded and said, “The king and queen are handling it. They promise justice.”

  I repeated that to the Goddess. She tightened then said, “She is here for something else. Whatever it is, you may accept, but I’m not leaving you.”

  “What did you need, Naddí?”

  “The Princess Lásenalta has invited our household to dinner with the royal family,” Naddí said. “She requests formal attire. And then she has arranged a meeting afterwards. We’ll need to change your clothing in between. She understands if you prefer casual tonight.”

  I translated, and the Goddess said, “Please wear your green gown. It is my favorite.”

  “Do I have time to bathe?”

  “Yes. Alta and Juleena offer to meet you in the baths.”

  I had meant a private bath, but I let Naddí do what she wanted.

  * * * *

  Three hours later, well after dusk, a small group of us took two carriages, well escorted, through the streets of Lopéna. We came to a stop in the section of town devoted to the guilds. We climbed from the carriage and viewed the front of the building known as the Scribe Guild House. Alta stepped to my side, the side away from the Goddess, and squeezed my arm.

  “Thank you for this,” I said.

  She leaned closer. “You need both of us,” she said. “I can handle all these details for you. Juleena’s doesn’t know her way around Alteara, and in Marport, she has too many of her own duties.”

  “I know,” I whispered back.

  Together, we strode forth.

  They were expecting us, of course, and Alta had even given them an idea what we wished to discuss. But the Goddess had wanted input on which scribes would be allowed to the Heart of the Goddess, and she had asked every scribe in Lopéna to attend.

  And so the guild house was full.

  Juleena wasn’t with us, but the others from my household were. And so I met Treámalaristeen, who said I could call him Rist, the scribe guild leader. And then I met a few other “important scribes”, and promptly forgot their names.

  “What can the scribe guild do for the Goddess, High Priestess?”

  “We have a library I wish duplicated. I do not know how long it takes to duplicate a book.”

  “It depends upon the book,” Rist replied, “the condition the book is in, and whether there are illustrations to be duplicated.”

  “Assume no illustrations or... What is the word?”

  “Illuminations?” he asked.

  “That is the fancy letters and borders?”

  “Yes.”

  “Assume none of that, a book perhaps this thick.” I held my fingers up.

  “This is easy,” he said. “You do not need a scribe for that. You need a copyist, or perhaps a journeyman.”

  “How long?”

  “Oh, a few weeks, perhaps.”

  “I wish special care. I do not want errors.”

  “Perhaps two months per book, if the original is not difficult to read.”

  “Some books are illustrated,” Vérundia said. “Others are illuminated. There are very few that are illuminated extensively.”

  “For this, you need a scribe,” said Rist.

  “Do I hire copyists separately?”

  “No, no. They are still members of our guild, and for such a large task, they would work in conjunction with the scribes.”

  We talked for several minutes. I decided I wished to hire two scribes and two copyists to begin. I explained the location was remote, but I didn’t explain how remote.

  “Is this everyone available?” the Goddess asked suddenly. “There are people in the hallway.”

  “Those are women,” Rist said.

  “I wish to meet them,” said the Goddess.

  “They are only assistants,” Rist said.

  “The Goddess wishes to meet them,” I repeated firmly. “Please invite them in.”

  “Of course. Of course.”

  There were six, and I couldn’t tell why the Goddess was so interested. It took a minute, but the six lined up, none of them meeting my gaze as we walked up and down the line. Finally the Goddess said, “I wish this one and that one to remain. The other four may go. Who does he offer us for copying the Altearan books?”

  We were presented with several choices. The Goddess immediately rejected them. “I wish women only.”

  That caused only minor troubles, and soon we had our choice of four women scribes and six copyists. All were willing to assist the Goddess. She looked at all of them and told me which she wanted.

  That part was easy!

  But then she turned her attention back to the two girls. They were perhaps ten and five, give or take a year, and I still didn’t know what the Goddess wanted. She walked around each of them, and then she stepped to one and began stroking her wild, curly hair. “Yalla, whisper to this one. Ask her if she loves me.”

  I stepped closer. “I won’t hurt you,” I told her. Then I leaned over. “The Goddess is stroking your hair.”

  “She is? I don’t feel anything.”

  “Answer only yes or no. She would like to know if you love her.”

  The girl nodded enthusiastically and said, “Yes.”

  “Yalla, ask her if she is willing to devote her life to me.”

  I turned to look at the Goddess. “Ask her,” she repeated.

  And so I asked.

  “I always wanted to be a priestess,” the girl said. “But I knew I wouldn’t, not with this hair.”

  “Would you devote your life to her now?”

  “Yes, High Priestess. Yes.”

  “Ask the other the same questions, Yalla,” said the Goddess.

  And so I moved to her, and her answers were similar.

  “Ask the man if these two are required here. I would not take them if they have responsibilities no one can assume.”

  I turned. “Rist, are these two irreplaceable?”

  “They are only assistants.”

  “Are they irreplaceable? Perhaps their families need them?”

  “I don’t have a family,” said the first.

  “My family is poor, but they sent me here,” said the other. “I haven’t seen them in four years.”

  The Goddess smiled. “Ask this one to kneel,” she said, pointing to the first. “And then I want you to run your fingers through her hair, over and over.”

  “Please kneel,” I told the girl. “I am going to touch you.”

  She didn’t hesitate, and once she was kneeling, I began to run my fingers through her hair. At first, nothing happened, but then her hair straightened. It lengthened and turned entirely black. I continued to stroke the hair with my fingers, and sections began turning white, not all at once, but then it was done.

  There were gasps around the room, and the other girl’s jaw dropped.

  “Masi!” she said. “You’re a priestess!”

  “An acolyte,” I said. “A priestess in training.”

  The girl, still on her knees, pulled her hair so she could see it. Then she looked up at me and began to cry. “Thank you,” she said. “Tell her thank you. I’ll do anything she needs. I promise.”

  “I know you will.” Then I leaned down, grabbed her by the elbows, and pulled her to her feet.

  “Now the link,” said the Goddess. “Set one hand over her heart and the other on top of her head.”

  I did that, and I felt my link to the Goddess, and then I felt new tendrils of a link form to this girl, Masimalatarda, but I would call her Masi.

  She gasped, and her ey
es grew wide, but she turned to me. “What did you do?”

  “Can you feel me?” I asked. “You are now ours.” I kissed her, just a brush of lips, and then we hugged tightly.

  And then Larien was there, and she pulled the girl from me.

  “Now this one,” the Goddess said.

  The girl knew what to expect. She dropped to her knees. “Me!” she begged. “Oh please, me, too!”

  The process was the same for the second girl, Jaynásíarté, who I could call Arté, all the way through to the kiss and long hug, and then Terél took her from me.

  I turned to Rist. Alta stepped to my side and said, “Rist, I will make arrangements for transportation. High Priestess, will your new acolytes travel to Marport with us, or will you send them with the scribes?”

  “They must first learn the language of the Goddess,” I said. “Vérundia, is there someone to teach them, or should I give them to Terél.”

  “Ulla can arrange teachers, if you do not wish them to travel with us.”

  “They cannot study a new language every hour of the day,” I said. “They can assist the scribes and better learn their future duties that way.”

  “I will arrange transportation for everyone, High Priestess,” she said. “Rist, I will return tomorrow with details.”

  “Masi,” I said. “Arté, tonight you are members of my household. Gather your things.”

  After that, Alta handled everything.

  * * * *

  I wore my best vestments and entered court through the back, following the royal family. There was an ornate chair waiting for me, between that of the king and queen, and an even greater chair for the Goddess. We stepped in and took our seats, and then everyone else sat.

  Court was full, but the audience was absolutely silent.

  Then the main doors opened, and Captain Evestía strode into the room. She approached the dais and offered a deep curtsey.

  “Rise, Captain,” called out the queen. “Tell us of events.”

  Evestía, in a voice designed to project, relayed nearly everything that had happened, beginning with the attack on Hálameenisha and ending with the people involved landing in jail. She skipped some details, but she was otherwise fairly complete.