by Robin Roseau
“High Priestess?”
I looked up into the eyes of a teenage girl of perhaps ten and six years. She looked scared. Of me? Probably.
“I don’t bite,” I said with a smile. I held out my hand. “My name is Yallameenara.”
She took my hand. “Jayníahartíen.” Her grasp was tentative, and she snatched her hand back quickly. “Can you help me?”
I gestured. “Please. Sit. I don’t know. What kind of help do you need?”
The girl sat, but her eyes flicked around before she turned back to me. She looked nervous, and I wondered if she’d answer me.
“She’s terrified,” the Goddess said. “And it’s not of me this time.”
The girl looked ready to bolt, so I didn’t think it would be the right time to point out the Goddess was seated beside me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have a difficult time with Altearan names. Do you have a shorter form I can call you without offending you?”
“Tíen,” she offered.
“Well, Tíen,” I said. “How old are you?”
“Ten and seven.” I’d guessed that nearly perfectly.
“And you live here in Hallstinefeld?” She nodded. “Your entire life?” She nodded again. I was trying to set her at ease, but if I was going to discover what was going on, I’d have to get her talking.
I paused, studying her for a minute as her eyes flicked around the room, and I knew she was watching the entrance.
“Do you work at this inn?”
She shook her head, and I could tell she was on the verge of bolting. I couldn’t help her if she didn’t really want my help, but I could try to make her feel safer.
“Tíen, you know you can trust me. I would never hurt you. But I think you’re afraid someone else will.” So I gestured, and one of the guards stepped over. “Secure this room. No one in or out unless she has hair like mine or is of royal birth.”
“Yes, High Priestess,” the woman said. There was a scurrying about, and by the time it was over, the girl was half out of her seat, looking around wildly.
“Tíen,” I said soothingly. “When you are ready to leave, you are free to leave. But I think you’re afraid of someone who isn’t currently in this room will see you with me. Now, whoever it is won’t. Please sit and tell me what’s wrong. If I can’t help, I bet I know people who can.”
She eyed me warily but slowly sat down. And remained mute. I sighed. “All right. Tell me five things about yourself.”
“What things?”
Ah, so she had a voice again.
“I don’t care. Five things.”
“I want to leave Hallstinefeld. May I go with you?”
I stared. “Well, that’s not five, but it’s getting us close to the problem. So you’re running from something or someone. Are you in trouble?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong, if that’s what you mean.”
“I suppose that’s what I meant,” I said. “Who are you afraid of?”
“My aunt.”
“Why?”
“She hates me. She’s trying to make me marry someone, but he’s an ass, and I don’t like the way he looks at me.”
“Can you tell if she’s lying?” I asked the Goddess.
“It doesn’t take a goddess to tell she’s hiding something.”
“Who are you talking to?” the girl asked.
“The Goddess, of course,” I said. I gestured. “She’s right here. Say ‘hello’.”
She half bolted from the chair.
“Well, that’s just rude,” said the Goddess.
“She’s not going to hurt you,” I said, “and neither am I, but you need to say ‘Hello’.”
“Hello,” she said, but she backed away from the table.
“If you run, I can’t help you,” I said. “Do you have better choices than to talk to me?”
She froze then shook her head.
“Then sit and tell me the rest,” I said.
“You won’t make me marry him, will you?”
“No, but I’m not promising to help. If you don’t tell me everything, I promise I won’t.”
“You have to.”
“Frankly, no, I don’t. But you have my attention. If you want to keep it, you’ll sit down and tell me the rest. Do not make me tell you again.” I crossed my arms.
She stood there, five feet from the table, her eyes flicking to the exit.
“Fine,” I said. I began to push off from the table.
“No!” the girl burst out, and she was back in her seat well before I could climb from mine. I settled back down.
“Now, is it really your aunt you’re afraid of?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s really trying to make you marry this boy you don’t want.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t like him because you don’t think he likes or respects you.”
“Oh, he likes me plenty,” she said. “If you get what I mean.”
“I do. Have you told your aunt how you feel?”
“She just wants to get me out of her house.”
“Why do you live with your aunt?”
“She took me in when I was little. My mother died trying to give birth. My father died before I really remember.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “When I was ten and three, I expected to be forced into marriage. I hated the idea then, but I thought it was the way of things. Now I know it doesn’t have to be that way, but often is.”
“So you’ll help me.”
“I’ll help you,” I said. “What is your aunt’s name?”
She began to smile. “Pápeelarmíta.”
“Oh, my,” I said. I looked around then called out, “Corporal.” The woman stepped over. “Corporal, this girl is Jayníahartíen. Her aunt’s name is...” I turned to the girl. “Can you say that name again?” The girl repeated it, and the corporal nodded. “And the boy she wants you to marry?” That was a third name.
“Corporal, this girl is my guest. I wish her brought to our camp and kept safe and secure.”
“Of course, High Priestess.”
“I also wish to meet her aunt, and this boy. Can you have them invited for dinner?”
“Of course, High Priestess.”
“Thank you. I will see you later, Tíen.” Then I stood and swept from the room, the Goddess chasing after me.
Out in the street, the Goddess said, “I don’t like it when no one translates.”
“I’m sorry.” I relayed the conversation.
“She’s still lying about something, but you’re going to help her anyway?”
“Of course I am,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m blindly going to do what she asks, especially without first checking out her story. It doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make sense why she needs me. She’s legally an adult in Alteara. If she wants to leave this village, she should leave.”
“It’s not always that easy. You of all people should know that.”
“True,” I agreed. “But she’s lying about something. Maybe she’s afraid if she tells me I won’t help. And maybe she’s right. I don’t like being lied to.”
“So why are you helping her?”
“Because the situation could be every bit as dire as she says. She’s ten and seven. Who knows what she is afraid of telling me? Maybe she doesn’t want to marry him because she prefers girls, or because she likes someone else, someone she doesn’t think I’ll like. Maybe she thinks if she told me either of those, I wouldn’t help. We’ll see.”
* * * *
When we returned to camp, Tally and her mother were gone, presumably off to celebrate with their family. Larien had returned and was ready to tell me about it, but I asked, “Is it handled?”
“It’s handled.”
“Good. We have something new. I need to talk to, well, practically everyone.” I gave her a thirty-second briefing.
“The priestesses get this all the time,” she said. “All. The. Time. She shouldn’t have come to you.”
“Perhaps, but she did, and now we’ll learn the truth.”
“You have more important concerns, High Priestess. I’ll see to this.”
“I’m already involved, and I want to see this through myself.”
“You’re going to take in another lost sheep.”
“Not one that lies to me,” I said.
* * * *
Much of our camp enjoyed dinner at the inn I’d just vacated, but I wanted to be on my track, so to speak, my own turf, so I asked the cooks to prepare dinner. “It doesn’t need to be fancy.” I knew they could handle it.
The corporal had taken me at my word, leaving the girl in one of the tents with not one but two of the guards to keep an eye on her. She’d understood what I’d meant when I said, “Secure.” I didn’t know -- or particularly care -- if Tíen realized she was a temporary prisoner.
I saw to my other duties for the next hour or so, and then spent time playing with the acolytes, the Goddess joining us, all of us having a very good time.
But then four of the guards approached, escorting a woman of perhaps fifty years old and a lumbering hulk of a man of twenty or so. Larien and Terél intercepted them and steered them away. I’d meet them shortly.
I turned back to the girls. “All right. It’s nearly time for dinner. Everyone needs to clean up and then I want you to study until dinner.” I clapped my hands and they scampered off.
I made my way to our makeshift dining area, a set of tables under an open tent. By the time I arrived, I was flanked by Féla, Naddí, Está, and Nita. Terél slipped to my side, the one opposite the goddess. Larien waited with our guests, and at a gesture, Nita ran off to collect the girl.
I stepped under the tent. The guards had backed off, leaving the aunt and potential husband talking to Larien. As I approached, everyone turned to me. I imagined I cut quite a figure, flanked by so many others, including several priestesses.
“Good evening,” I said. “I apologize for the manner of this invitation.”
“High Priestess,” said the woman. She held out her hand. “I am Pápeelarmíta, but if you prefer, you can call me Lar.”
“Lar, I am Yallameenara.” We clasped hands. “And this must be...” I trailed off. “Oh dear. I heard your name once, but I have such trouble with Altearan names, even all these years later.”
“My friends call me Bick-nick.”
“Bick-nick,” I said. I offered my hand, which he engulfed in his. I didn’t think I’d ever shaken a larger hand, but he was very gentle, quite at odds with his rough farmer’s appearance.
The Goddess said, “You don’t need me. I’m going to sit with Mandi and Nissi.”
“All right. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bore you.”
“We’ll talk later, Yalla,” she said with a caress. “You have a good heart.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t be fooled.”
I watched as she walked away, and then when I turned back, I saw Lar and Bick-nick staring at me.
“You were just talking to the Goddess,” said the woman.
“Yes. But she has other obligations for the moment. It’s just those you can see now.”
The woman shook her head but said nothing.
I studied her. She was tall with sharp features and piercing eyes. She looked very fierce. I wondered what she was like. It was time to try to find out.
“Well, shall we sit?” I asked. I gestured and then directed people, putting myself at the middle of one side, my guests opposite me, and leaving one place for Tíen, when she arrived. The others filled in with Larien to my right and Terél just past her.
“Well,” I said. “I’m sorry for the short notice, and I’m sure you wonder why I’ve asked you here.”
“Asked isn’t quite the word I would use,” said the woman. “I have every reverence for the Goddess, but I did not think her High Priestess ruled Alteara, married to a princess or not.”
“You’re right,” I said. I bowed my head. “If I’d had time, I would have visited in person and made it an invitation. As I had to send someone else, and I do not have the time to linger, I had to make it a summons. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, and for that, I apologize.”
I wasn’t sure if the woman was mollified, but she said nothing further on it. Instead she asked, “Well then, what is it you wanted?”
“I want to get to know you.”
“Why?”
“Could I answer that shortly?”
She looked over at Bick-nick and then back at me. “Fine. What did you want to know?”
“Let’s start with the basics. I’ll go first. My name is Yallameenara. I was once a girl of the horse people, and in many ways always will be, but my home is now Framara and Alteara. I have an older brother and sister, although I haven’t seen them in years. Now I live with my two wives and four daughters, the eldest two of which are along on this trip.” I smiled. “Oh. I am High Priestess to the Goddess. Your turn.”
“I see. Fine. I am Pápeelarmíta. I operate my family’s transport business. I have three children and a husband I rarely see.”
“What do you transport?”
“Food, most of it to the capital, and goods in return. My mother-in-law runs the local mercantile.”
“So a successful family.”
“I suppose.”
“And you, Bick-nick. What do you do?”
“I’m a farmer.” I couldn’t have guessed.
“What kind of farmer?”
“Pigs. Chickens. A few cows. Pigs, mostly. And chickens.”
“Your farm must be close if you could come so easily.”
“They caught me just feeding the animals,” he said. “But they let me change first.”
“Does anyone help you run your farm?”
“I trade a few pigs each year for the help I need.” He grinned. “But I’m going to get married, and then my wife will help me, and raise our young’uns.”
“Congratulations. What’s her name?”
“Tíen,” he said. “She’s so beautiful...” He trailed off but put on a happy smile.
I sat still for a minute but then switched to the language of the Goddess. “I believe we have the truth of it. I don’t know what’s keeping them, but keep the girl away for a little longer.”
“I’ll see to it,” Terél said, getting up. After that, I didn’t worry about it. Terél would see to it.
Lar was watching me carefully then looked at Bick-nick, then back at me. I saw when she put the rest together. “High Priestess.”
“Perhaps you and I should talk, woman to woman.”
“That would be best.”
We both rose, and I gestured for the rest to stay where they were. I knew Larien would take care of Bick-nick, and so I focused on Lar. We moved to the side of the tent, stepping far enough away we wouldn’t be overheard.
“What has my niece done?”
“Apparently she is hesitant about marrying a pig farmer.”
“And the ungrateful wretch went running to you to save her. Bick-nick is a good man. Okay, he’s simple, but he’s clever and a good farmer.”
“He’s so young.”
“The farm was his grandmother’s. His family has held that land for generations.”
“Family?”
“He’s the last.”
“He’s in love.”
“Besotted.”
“She’s not.”
“She likes him well enough. She’s allergic to hard work.”
I looked over my shoulder. “He’s huge.”
“He’s like a big, friendly dog. High Priestess, this is the best match I could find for her. He’s a good man, and he adores her, even when she’s a bitch to him.”
“You’re not exactly the warm, cuddly type yourself.”
Her lips thinned and she turned away. “I used to be,” she finally whispered. “And I was quite the beauty besides.”
I looked her up and down. “I think I can see it. You still could be without the scowl.”
>
“You haven’t lived my life.”
“No, I haven’t. If you tell me I’m wrong, I’ll apologize.”
“You’re not wrong. You’re just more blunt than I expected.”
“This is a disaster in the making, Lar.”
She turned back to me, her eyes flashing. “What am I supposed to do, High Priestess? She’s my sister’s only daughter. She used to be so sweet, but now she’s a spoiled rotten brat.”
“Who spoiled her?”
“I did. I felt so sorry for her, losing both her parents. I’ve been a good mother to my own children, but I gave her anything she wanted. They resent her for it, and me. But it wasn’t so bad when she was younger. It wasn’t until she hit ten and two or so that we began to fight. Now it’s constant fighting. But what am I supposed to do? Kick her into the streets? I made the best match I could for her.”
“You could let her make her own.”
“If she’d been working at it, I would have.”
“She says you’re trying to get her out of your house.”
“I am, but I’m not kicking her to the street. I won’t fight you if you want to take her with you. I won’t say ‘good riddance’, either. She’s my dead sister’s daughter, High Priestess!”
“Does she have any skills at all?”
“I’ve tried, but I started far too late. With my own, I began teaching them everything they could learn while they were still in the womb. With her, I didn’t. Now, it’s like she doesn’t see the point.”
“What a mess,” I said.
“And it’s all my fault.”
“Not all. Some.” I turned to look. Bick-nick and Larien were laughing at something, and I was sure she had him utterly charmed. Lar followed my gaze.
“He’s a sweet boy,” she said.
“Your niece told me he’s an ass.”
“She lied.”
“I knew she was lying about something. I just wasn’t sure what.”
“High Priestess, she’s an adult. Legally, and probably even morally, I can ask her to leave. I haven’t done that yet, but I used to have a happy home. I don’t anymore. I want that back.”
“Well, I don’t blame you.”
“It’s not all Tíen’s fault. I’m sure it’s at least half mine, and I did spoil her besides.”
“Is there work for her here?”
“Not working for me. That would be a disaster. There’s farm work, if she’s willing to work hard.”