Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [220]
“I wager you did,” Cauvin countered. “You and the three men behind you.”
“Three men? What three men? What are you talking about, Cauvin? Have you been drinking?”
Cauvin shook his head. “No,” he said softly. His anger was gone, replaced by something harsher, yet colder. “I went to the Temple of Ils on the Promise of Heaven. I waited until you climbed out of the pit, then I followed you and the three men back here. I was outside” —he hooked a thumb toward the open window-“when you opened the door.”
“Damn you!” Leorin threw her pillow. Cauvin beat it harmlessly to the floor.
“You’re with them,” he continued, not raising his voice. “With the Hand. You’ve lied to me for two years, Leorin, and last night when I told you about the Torch, you went running to the Whip. But someone made a mistake. They left the Torch on the ground and snatched my brother instead. You see, I know it all. I didn’t want to believe it—froggin’ gods be damned, I didn’t. When I came here last night, I still hoped some part of you loved me, that you’d choose me, instead of the Hand. Everything’s been lies. You haven’t told me the truth, not in two years.”
“I wanted it all to be true, Cauvin. I swear it. Strangle—You called him the Whip because you weren’t told the name the Mother gave him. She named him Strangle—”
“What’s yours, Leorin? What name did the Bloody Bitch give you?” Cauvin demanded, unable to keep a fist from forming or his nails from biting into his palm.
Leorin looked away before admitting, “Honey.”
“Because you attract men.” It was not a question.
“I wanted to tell you. I’ve always wanted to tell you, but I was afraid. I’m not like you, Cauvin. You were strong, even when you were a boy, and you weren’t ever afraid. No matter what they did to you—even when they brought you before the Mother—you never broke. I broke, Cauvin. When they gave me the choice between sacrifice and submission, I couldn’t be strong like you, so I chose submission.”
“It didn’t take strength to say no, Leorin. All it took was eyes to see what the Hand was, what I would have become. The choice was between a quick death and a slow one.”
“All life is a slow death, Cauvin, and I’m afraid to die. It’s not about Purification or the World’s Rebirth. It’s about giving someone else to the Mother when She’s craving, before someone gives you. Strangle hasn’t asked for much. I give him what he wants, and I’ve stayed alive.”
“Until you tried to give him the Torch … and me. And missed both times.”
“That was a mistake,” Leorin admitted, twisting the blanket into a tight coil. “When I came back, and you were gone, I knew—even while they were hitting me—that I’d misjudged you. Everyone’s misjudged you. You’re not strong because you’re too sheep-shite stupid to be afraid. You’re not stupid at all; and your strength is real. I thought I could trick you, but, in the end, you tricked me. No one’s ever done that to me, Cauvin. No one!
“Do you know what that means, what it could mean, if you’d let it?” She reached for his hand.
Cauvin didn’t let Leorin catch him; didn’t let her answer, either. His silence didn’t discourage her.
“With your cunning and my knowledge of the Hand, not just here in Sanctuary but all along the coast, we could make Sanctuary ours, starting with Strangle. Sweet Mother, I do despise him, but we all need partners before the Mother’s altar. Listen to me, Cauvin—” She got out of bed, put her arms around him, and went to work caressing his shoulders. “Between us, we can do it—”
“Don’t,” Cauvin interrupted. He peeled her arms away and held her at arm’s length.
“It wouldn’t be like before, Cauvin. What happened before, that was because men led Her worship. The Mother is different when women lead. There doesn’t have to be blood every day, every week, or even every month. A few sacrifices—Murderers, rapists, thieves, their blood’s as good as anyone else’s. Good people, ordinary people have nothing to fear from Dyareela. Sanctuary will still be Sanctuary—only better, with the Mother’s blessing to protect it. No one we love will