Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [5]
Feena glared at him and started down into the city.
Even among all the buildings, Moonshadow Hall stood out, both from the heights of the city and from street level. The temple of Selune was a big, round structure that shimmered pale gray in the moonlight, a counterpoint to the full moon rising into the sky. Depicted in tall relief on the temple's walls were Sehlne's seven Shards, the goddess' winged servants and warriors. Together with sculpted owls, the Shards stood guard over the many gates that stood along the temple's outer walls. Only one of the outer gates was real, though. The rest were merely symbols of the true gates that represented the phases of the moon around Moonshadow Hall's sacred inner courtyard.
Feena strode up to the main entry gate and the acolyte who stood guard at it. She couldn't have been more than fourteen years old and the blue and silver robes that she wore fit her awkwardly. A mace, its head etched with a crescent moon, hung from a belt around her thin hips. Feena wondered if she could actually use it. As she approached, the girl glanced at her idly, looked away, then looked back as she realized that the woman in homespun and linen wore the same symbol she did.
"Welcome to Moonshadow Hall, sister," the girl said in greeting. She sounded as if she didn't quite know what to make of the rough woman in front of her, but Feena had to admit that even so she managed to force a pleasant, welcoming note into her voice. "Is this your first visit to the hall?"
Feena couldn't suppress a slight twitch. "No," she said, "it isn't. But-"
"Feena?" called a voice from within the gate. "Feena, is that you? By Our Silver Lady, I knew you couldn't stay away from me forever!"
A man came bounding out of the temple, a pale blue half-cape flowing behind him, and swept her up in his arms. Feena forced herself to smile and accept his embrace, but she gripped his arms the instant she felt his hands slide toward her bottom.
She pressed her cheek to his and whispered in his ear, "I wouldn't like to thump you in front of the girl, Mifano."
Mifano kissed her cheek and laughed, his hands moving back to a more brotherly position. His breath smelled of cloves and cinnamon.
"Ah, Feena, silver flame of the immortal moon-how my heart has missed the blunt impact of your wit." He turned to the acolyte and said, "Jhezzail, this is Feena. We trained together here when we were younger than you."
Feena saw the acolytes' eyes widen at the introduction, but once again it seemed that the girl managed to hold her composure. She bent slightly and dipped her head.
"Elder sister," she murmured formally.
"Younger sister," replied Feena, bowing her head in return. As Mifano took her arm and escorted her through the gate, she muttered, "I see my reputation is intact."
"You were a… unique novice, Feena. Not many clergy of Selune are blessed the way that you are."
"Not many would consider being a werewolf a.blessing," Feena snorted, "even among Selune's clergy. Remember, my mother sent me here to learn how to control that 'gift' as much as to be initiated into Selune's mysteries."
"Not that you needed much initiation, as I recall." "My mother taught me well."
Mifano fell silent for a moment, then said quietly, "We were all sorry to hear about your mother's death. In spite of her choices, she was an example to us all."
Feena looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Though he was no older than her own almost thirty years, when he chose to be serious Mifano seemed to age into sudden maturity. Maybe it was because he always played the role of the flirt that he usually seemed younger. Maybe it was because his prematurely silver hair that some claimed was a mark of Selune's favor lent him a strange sense of agelessness. Either way, she could in that moment see how the man she remembered as a clownish adolescent could have risen to prominence as a priest.
"Thank you," she said. She let the awkward silence drift for a heartbeat longer, then