Strange Attractors - Kim Falconer [41]
‘Don’t gorge,’ Rall said, pulling her away from the trays.
‘Others are eating.’ Shaea pouted until Rall daintily took a morsel from the table and passed it over. ‘Just one.’
‘Thank you, Mistress.’
Most of the women were witches of the Corsanon order, with only a few visiting from other areas. They were relaxed and elegant, their hoods thrown back to reveal gowns that shimmered when they moved. Their graceful arms drew attention here and there as they talked—hands touching someone’s shoulder to capture their smile, gold bangles sliding to their wrists when they lowered them again. Shaea knew she and Rall were at least as well presented, and that her long lace dress covered the rough skin and scabs. It felt like a dream. Had Xane only died this morning? Maybe she had died too and this was another life. She moved closer to a group of men, hoping to hear news of the battle.
‘Get back here,’ Rall said, catching her arm. She shook her head.
Shaea rankled though she soon realised that these men were not talking about battle or strategies at all. They were not warriors, at least not tonight. Dressed in fine light robes themselves, with loose-legged pants, unfit for riding or battle, and open shirts of raw silk, the men, with their heavenly scents, were engaging the women, telling little stories or reading snippets of poetry, describing the moonlight, a flower or an animal until all their words were a string of adjectives and the thing they described was no longer the moon or flower or animal but the feelings they had for the women in front of them. Shaea shivered. How could she keep up this sham? No one had ever spoken to her that way and although Rall had taught her to read and write, she knew her limitations, and she knew her accent too. Gutter slang. It would never do. It would never pass.
She panicked, looking for a way out, but before she could bolt, Rall grasped the crook of her elbow and whisked her down a hallway. As they turned a corner, they bumped straight into two men, tall and smiling.
‘Off to gaze at the stars?’ the older man asked, nodding his head. ‘We would be honoured to join you, if so.’
Shaea was stunned, unable to keep her mouth from hanging open. She pushed it closed with her free hand, Rall still gripping the other. The men smelled of sandalwood and myrrh, their clothes were clean and their voices gentle. They weren’t yelling and they weren’t sicking their dogs on her or beating her with a stick. A quick jab from Rall snapped her back to attention. She tried to soften her eyes, as coached.
‘That would be lovely,’ Rall said.
Shaea turned to the old witch. She wanted to ask how in all of Gaela that would be lovely, since their aim was to slip away to the portal undetected.
‘My apprentice and I will meet you on the terrace? We’re just going to change.’
That renewed their smiles. They bowed and drifted off towards the terrace, no doubt to wait patiently for their return.
‘What’s this about?’ Shaea whispered as Rall herded her in the other direction.
‘The young one’s applying for initiation,’ the witch answered.
‘Initiation? But we’re not temple priestesses, are we?’
‘We are for the moment.’
‘I thought we were visiting priestesses—no purple robes.’
‘Tonight’s a special occasion. We’re in the shadow of the eclipse. All priestesses are open to initiates, purple robes or not. We have to appear to be considering.’
‘Considering what?’
Rall looked at her and clicked her tongue. ‘Taking on a man for training, of course. Don’t you listen to my words?’
‘I do.’ Shaea frowned. ‘I get it. They think we’re off to find our purple robes so we can…’
‘They’re hoping.’
Shaea blanched. ‘We aren’t, are we?’
‘Of course not. Initiation by a temple priestess is a sacred commitment.