by Curtis, Greg
“Or did you mean what happens to you young poet warrior?” The lady stared straight at him, her ghostly eyebrows raised in question. Dorn didn't know what to say, but he also guessed it didn't matter. She wasn't planning on listening anyway. Not to him. But he did quite like the title of poet warrior. He didn't know what one was and whatever it actually was he was quite sure he wasn't one of them, but still it conjured up fascinating images in his thoughts.
“No not really.” He hadn't been thinking of himself. For his part he thought his life would return to the way it had been. In fact he'd been hoping for it. Rebuilding ancient cities didn't appeal. Fighting, running and hiding were no more attractive. But the life of a simple trapper, making enough coin to live on and to buy a few books to read was. He had been happy as Dorn the trapper. Satisfied. He could be again. He could be happier. Especially if Sena was going to become a part of his life.
“Nonetheless you should have an answer. You will continue with your atonement of course.”
“Atonement?” Dorn was caught off guard by that. He didn't know he was atoning. He didn't remember agreeing to atone for anything.
“Of course. Both the Mother and Zylor have heard your prayers and accepted your confession of wrong doing. And you have started well in your mission to atone. But there will be many more years of service required before you can truly be said to have returned to the path.”
“But I've fought a war and exposed an ancient plot. I've helped save the world!”
Dorn was incensed by the thought that he still had to atone. Especially when he hadn't agreed to it. Which in hindsight he realised, he should have said first.
“As I said it was a good beginning.” Why were people smiling when she said that? But he knew why. It was for the same reason they'd soon be laughing. They knew he wasn't going to win. He had no chance. Not even if Eldas the Fortunate had been standing with him and Antag Golden Tongue feeding him his words.
“I didn't agree to any of this.” Finally he managed to get the words out.
“Of course you did.” Sylfene looked upon him pityingly. As if he didn't know that he was a foolish child speaking nonsense. “How else could the gods have granted your plea for forgiveness if you hadn't asked?”
Dorn stared at her, wondering what to say. What he could say. Logically she had him. She was after all the high priestess. She spoke for Xeria. And other than calling her a liar there wasn't a lot he could do. That he guessed would not be well received. Besides, he had actually uttered a few prayers over the previous months. She could be telling the truth. Maybe.
“Shite!” He cursed the ground and Lady Sylfene smiled at him knowing she had won her victory however unjustly. But maybe when Sena kissed him on the cheek it wasn't quite so bad.
“What do you want?” Dorn grumbled at her knowing there was no point in arguing. He was only going to lose.
“Me?” The Lady looked slightly aghast, something that looked somewhat disturbing on an insubstantial, glowing face. “This is not for me, this is for the Mother. And she will have plenty of tasks for you to perform.
“But you can begin by bringing your family home to the ancient temple in a few days so that they can begin their lives properly. And while they do that you can start your studies with the other students. After that I'm sure the Mother will have other duties for her new poet warrior.” She laughed gently at him and he guessed it would be a lot of duties.
“But before then you can help to carry your presents up to the roof and perhaps even use them.” She pointed at a pile of supplies in the courtyard that had been brought by the wayfarers and in particular at a big metal bath tub. “The Mother does like her servants to be presentable!”
And she also liked them to be amused Dorn gathered when he heard the others trying to suppress their laughter and failing miserably. Even the priests were looking amused. Fairly quickly they gave up trying and he had to sit there and listen to them falling about while he tried not to turn red. He failed and was soon glowing like a beetroot.
“Sena dear, perhaps you could show him how to use the soap and scrubbing brush since you did ask for them to be sent.”
Suddenly it was Sena's turn to be embarrassed and she looked away while Dorn's cheeks brightened further. He knew from long experience why women asked him to bathe. So did everyone else from the fact that they were laughing so hard that tears were rolling down cheeks.
With that the high priestess vanished and Dorn was left sitting there red faced and wondering what to do. Sena wasn't looking at him – she was too busy studying her feet. And the rest were braying like donkeys. There was nothing left for him to do except drink his tea while he waited for them to stop.
And wonder if he'd done the right thing in shooting a harpy all those months ago.