Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [11]
Larajin followed her into the delivery room of the bakery, piled high with sacks of flour and barrels of fresh milk. Habrith closed and latched the door, then pitched her voice low so the apprentices in the next room wouldn't hear her.
"Tell me, Larajin, have you scattered starlight upon the Pool of Reflection?"
"Habrith! Do you serve the Lady of Love also?"
The baker chuckled, and shook her head.
"Then how do you know about the first initiation ritual?"
Habrith smiled. "You've obviously taken it, then. That's good. It means you can wear the crimson robes."
Larajin absently fingered her heart-shaped locket, which was hanging against her palm. She'd taken her vows and pledged her love to Sune and had received formal training in those few spells the goddess had already seen fit to bestow upon her-simple healing, charms, and commands, and the obscuring mist she had just conjured up-but had yet to don a cleric's robes. She'd been hesitant to commit herself fully to just the one goddess, lest Hanali Celanil become jealous. She wondered if Habrith
was suggesting she become a full-fledged cleric of Sune and take shelter in the temple, turning her back on the elf goddess.
"It won't work," she said, thinking out loud. "I can't hide inside the temple for the rest of my life."
"How about just until dawn, then?"
That brought Larajin up short. "What do you mean?"
"A Heartwarder from the temple in Ordulin has been visiting our local temple for the past tenday," Habrith said. "She returns to Ordulin this morning, accompanied by four novices who will serve in that temple. One more novice wouldn't be noticed by the city guard, and even if she was-and was recognized-the guard wouldn't dare risk the wrath of the goddess by interfering with a Heartwarder."
Larajin smiled. It would work-she was certain of it. She was as good as out of Selgaunt.
"Once you get to Ordulin, there's a tailor I know who can help you," Habrith continued. "He's a half-elf, himself. He can give you the name of an elfin Essembra who can guide you to the Tangled Trees."
"Could you… accompany me yourself?" Larajin asked hesitantly. "At least as far as Ordulin?"
Habrith shook her head. "There's too much to attend to here in Selgaunt."
"The new apprentice, you mean?"
That brought a twinkle to the older woman's eyes. "Not exactly-let's just say I'm making sure the bread is buttered on the correct side, and leave it at that."
Larajin wondered what Habrith meant by that, but she knew better than to ask. Habrith often spoke in riddles, using plain language only when it suited her.
Habrith paused. Her eyes grew worried, and she fingered the pendant at her throat.
"I'm glad you came to me before leaving, Larajin. It's a dangerous time to be journeying north. The Heartwarder will see you safely to Ordulin, but once you pass there, you'll fare better under our protection."
Exhausted at having been up all night scrubbing the kitchen, Larajin took a moment to register this remark.
"Under whose protection?" she asked at last.
Habrith's voice dropped to a whisper. She touched the pendant at her throat and asked, "Would you recognize this symbol, if the harp was still there?"
Larajin blinked in surprise as she realized what Habrith was referring to. The pendant, which Larajin had assumed was merely decorative, had a rough patch along the inside of the crescent where another portion of the design had broken away. Put a harp at the center of the crescent moon, and it became much more. It became the symbol of the Harpers, a vast network of clerics, rangers, and bards who worked silently and secretly to thwart the plans of unscrupulous mortals and evil gods alike. Larajin had been right-Habrith was no mere baker.
Larajin chastised herself for being such a fool. Why hadn't she made the connection before? Then she realized the answer. Habrith seemed so innocuous, so nondescript, not a noble or a cleric but a baker, a common tradeswoman. She was widely traveled, it was true, but those travels could be explained as nothing more than trips to gather the spices