Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [128]
His kindness touched me, and I was able to smile. A strange business, this having a suitor! I was accustomed to grand gestures from my patrons, but these homely courtesies were something altogether different. "Yes," I said. "I would."
The great statue of Asherat loomed beneath the high, pointed central dome, and it took only a glance for me to see that she was old, very old. Unlike the benign countenance of the statue on the harbor, this goddess had a wide-eyed stare. Instead of stars, a crescent moon crowned her head. She stood upright, leaping waves about her feet, her open hands touching the waters.
Brackets of candles lit the dome, and two priestesses flanked the stone altar before the goddess, attending to the sacrifice—for sacrifice it was. A commoner stood before the altar, cap in hand, and on the slab in front of him, a bound lamb.
I must have made an involuntary sound, for Severio shushed me. "We'll have to wait a moment," he murmured. "I should have warned you; I forgot, you don't have blood offerings in Terre d'Ange, do you?"
"No." I watched, horrified, as the elder priestess lifted the sacrificial knife; bright-edged and tiny, with a curving blade. The lovely, shimmering veil hid her face, but her motions were serene. I had to look away as she brought down her arm. Even so, I heard the lamb bleat once, a strangled sound.
And silence.
I didn't know I was shaking until Severio put his hands on my shoulders to still me. "Phèdre," he said gently. "I'm sorry, I made a mistake. You needn't stay. Go back to the antechamber, and the acolyte will conduct you outside. I'llmeet you in just a moment, I promise. But I cannot cheat Asherat, having brought her offering."
"No," I said stubbornly, watching him blink in surprise. I don't think he knew, before that, how much will I had. I summoned a measure of composure. "I've come too, and one doesn't turn one's back on a goddess. I will go through with it."
"As you wish," he said, bewildered.
Eunuch attendants had removed the lamb's carcass—the Temple would dine on it that night, Severio told me later— but the altar still reeked of fresh blood as we approached and I could see, drawing near, traces of ancient blood blackened in the crevices. I held the honey-cake in my hands, gazing at the statue's face.
Long ago, I knew, Asherat-of-the-Sea had another name, and a consort, too; El, who ruled the sun and skies as she ruled the earth and sea. So said the most ancient of Habiru myths, the ones the Rebbe pretended did not exist. But they quarreled, and divided, and took on different names and faces, as deities have done through the ages. El became the One God, Adonai of the Habiru; he begot a son named Yeshua.
And Yeshua's blood and the tears of his mortal beloved mingled in the womb of the earth, the great Mother Goddess, who took their semidivine spark and nurtured to life Blessed Elua. If she wore in La Serenissima the face of Asherat-of-the Sea, 'twas not for me to turn away.
"Gracious Lady of the Sea," I whispered in D'Angeline, my mother tongue. "Pray accept this gift from your many-times-removed daughter, and grant me your blessing." With trembling hands, I broke the honey-cake in half and laid it on the bloody altar.
High above me, the face of the statue was unchanged, but I saw in it now somewhat different, a terrible and impassive mercy. Severio made his offering, murmuring a Caerdicci prayer. The priestesses nodded grave acceptance, and we turned to go.
"Wait." It was the elder priestess, putting out a hand tostop me. Through her veil, I saw her eyes, dark and curious, searching mine. "Some god has laid his hand upon you, child. Will you not seek the counsel of the Oracle?"
I glanced at Severio, who gave a faint shrug. "It is not wise to turn away the gifts of the goddess," he said neutrally.
So it was that we were conducted by silent eunuchs into the left-hand chamber, beneath one of the two lesser domes. It was dark and smoky, and the walls were