Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [43]
“I have only just returned from a long absence,” Lleu said, temporizing. “I have much work to do. If I can find the time, perhaps I will stop by for a theological discussion with you. I think it would be quite interesting.”
“So do I,” said Mina softly, and he had the feeling she wasn’t talking about theology.
Lleu could think of nothing to say in answer. He inclined his head politely and pushed his way through the crowd, pretending not to hear the snickers and gibes. He hoped fervently that the sheriff would refuse to admit the woman. Going straight to his temple, he stood before the statue of Kiri-Jolith and found solace and comfort in the stern, implacable face of the warrior-god. He grew calm, and after giving thanks to the god, he was able to go ahead with the work that had piled up during his absence.
The sheriff, lost in amber eyes, gave Mina admittance to the city, along with the name of the finest inn.
“I thank you, sir,” she said. “Would you have any objection if I spoke to the people? I won’t cause you any trouble. I promise that.”
The sheriff found himself curious as to what she had to say. “Make it brief,” he told her.
She thanked him and then asked her bearers to lower the palanquin to the ground.
The bearers did so. Mina parted the curtains and stepped out.
The crowd, most of whom had not been able to see her prior to this, marveled aloud at the sight. She stood before them in her cobweb thin black dress, her perfume drifting on a light spring breeze. She raised her hands for silence.
“I am Mina, High Priestess of Chemosh,” she called out in ringing tones, the same that had once echoed across the battlefield. “He comes to the world with a new message, a message of endless life. I look forward to sharing his message with all of you while I am visiting in your fair city.”
Mina returned to her palanquin. She paid the sheriff the tax required of all vehicles for admittance into the city and closed the curtain. The bearers lifted up the palanquin and carried her through the gates. The crowd watched in awed silence until the black palanquin was lost to sight. Then tongues began to wag.
All could agree on one thing—this promised to be a most interesting Spring Dawning.
pring Dawning in Staughton proved to be far more interesting than anyone had anticipated. Word soon spread through the city that a miracle had occurred at the hostelry. As word spread, people began leaving the fair grounds and hastening to see for themselves.
One of the groomsmen was an eyewitness and he was now the center of attention, urged to tell and retell his story for the benefit of those who had arrived late.
According to the groomsman, who was reputed to be a sober and responsible individual, he had been returning from the hostelry’s stables when the black palanquin was carried into the courtyard. The four bearers lowered the palanquin to the ground. Mina stepped out of it. The bearers removed a fancifully carved wooden chest from the palanquin, and at Mina’s behest, carried it to her room. Mina entered the hostelry and was not seen again, though the groomsman lingered in the courtyard on purpose, hoping to catch another glimpse of her. The four female bearers returned to the palanquin. They took up their positions at the front and back of the palanquin and stood there, unmoving.
A kender immediately descended on the bearers and began badgering them with questions. The bearers refused to answer, maintaining a dignified silence. They were so silent, in fact, and so completely oblivious of the kender—when by now any normal person would have given him a box on the ears—that he poked one of the bearers in the ribs.
The kender gasped and poked the woman again.
“It’s solid rock!” the kender cried shrilly. “The lady’s turned to stone!”
The groomsman immediately assumed the kender was lying. Further investigation revealed otherwise. The four female bearers were four black marble statutes. The black palanquin was a black marble palanquin. People swarmed