Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [45]
The boy held out a scroll tied up with a black ribbon and sealed with black wax.
Lleu frowned. He was tempted to slam the door in the boy’s face, then realized that word would go around that he was afraid. He was young and insecure. He hadn’t been in Staughton that long and he was working hard to establish himself and his religion in a city that only marginally cared. He took the scroll.
“You have leave to go,” he told the boy.
“I’m to stay, Father, in case there’s a reply.”
Lleu was about to say that there would be no reply, that he had nothing to say to a High Priestess of Chemosh, but again, he thought of how that would look. He tore off the black ribbon, broke the seal, and hastily read through the missive.
I look forward to our discussion. I will be at leisure to receive you at the hour of moon rise.
In the name of Chemosh
Mina
“Tell the High Priestess Mina that I would like very much to come to talk theology with her, but that I have pressing matters of my own temple to which I must attend,” Lleu said. “Thank her for thinking of me.”
“I’d reconsider if I were you, Father,” said the potboy with a wink. “She’s a looker.”
“The High Priestess is a cleric and she is your elder,” said Lleu, glowering. “As am I. You owe both of us more respect.”
“Yes, Father,” said potboy, chastened. He scuttled off.
Lleu returned to the altar. The cleric looked again at the face of Kiri-Jolith, this time for reassurance.
The god regarded him with a cold eye. Lleu could almost hear the voice. “I want no cowards in my service.”
Lleu did not think he was being cowardly. He was being sensible. He had no need to bandy words with this woman and he certainly had no interest in Chemosh.
He went back to his study to finish his letter.
The quill sputtered. He spilled the ink. At last he gave up. Staring out at the pouring rain that beat on the roof of the temple like a drummer summoning all true knights to battle, Lleu tried to divest himself of thoughts of amber eyes.
At the hour of moonrise, Lleu stood outside the hostelry. He stared at the marble statues, which shimmered with a ghostly light in the silver moonshine of Solinari. Zeboim had worn herself out, apparently, and taken her fit of pique elsewhere, for the storm had at last abated, the clouds gone, sulking off.
Lleu found the statues profoundly disturbing. He longed to touch one but feared there might still be people watching. He shivered, for the spring night was chill and damp, and looked around. Sounds of laughter and revelry reached him from the fair grounds. There was free ale and a pig roast at the fair grounds and most of the citizenry were attending the festivities. The hostelry was quiet.
Lleu stretched out his hand to touch one of the statues.
The door to the inn opened and he quickly snatched his hand back.
Mina stood in the entrance, a slender figure of darkness against a blaze of firelight.
“Come in,” she said. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
She did not look like a high priestess. She had changed out of the flowing, tantalizing dress and removed her golden and black headdress. She wore a soft black gown that was open at the front, tied together at her waist with a belt of gold cord. Her auburn hair was simply braided and coiled around her head, held in place by a jeweled pin made of amber. The scent of myrrh hung in the air.
“I can’t stay,” said Lleu.
“Of course not,” Mina said in understanding tones.
She stepped aside so that he could enter.
The common room was deserted. Mina turned away from Lleu and started to ascend the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Lleu demanded.
Mina turned to face him. “I have ordered a light supper. I’ve asked that it be served to me in my private room. Have you dined? Will you join me?”
Lleu flushed. “No, thank you. I think perhaps I will return to the temple. I have work to do …”
Mina walked over to him, rested her hand on his forearm, and smiled at him, a friendly smile, ingenuous. “What is your name?”
He hesitated, fearing that even giving her that much information might somehow entrap him.