The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [78]
“Well, that mayhap I could be giving to you, but there be a need on all of us to learn it slowly. Journeys, there be a need on them to proceed by single steps.”
“Of course,” Salamander said. “Is there novice lore, then?”
“There be such.” Rocca paused for a sip of water. “The council of high priests mapped out our journey to her in safe steps.”
“My heart burns to hear everything you deem me worthy of,” Salamander said, “and naught more.”
Rocca smiled and raised her goblet of water as if in salute.
“Unfortunately,” Honelg broke in, “our Holy One can’t stay here more than a single night. It’s too dangerous. Besides, she has other souls in her care.”
“Well, to tell the truth, like, at my leaving here, I’ll be traveling straight back to our new dun, Zakh Gral. That be its name.” Rocca turned in Honelg’s direction. “We do build a shrine there, of course, and there be a need on me to be there for the consecration.”
Salamander had to draw upon every bit of will that he possessed to keep his voice steady. “That’s a pity,” he said. “But perhaps, next time you come this way, would you tell me the lore then?”
“A better idea, and methinks our goddess did send it to me.” Her eyes bright, she leaned forward. “Evan, truly, there be a need on you to come with me. You talk so well, you’d be a boon to the faith and the faithful. If the—well, the higher order of priests—if they do agree, it might even be allowed that you travel to the holiest of temples in our city off in the far west.”
“Oh, I’d never be worthy of that.” Salamander looked down at the floor and softened his voice to modesty. “My gifts are far too poor. But I’d love to see the shrine, a holy place dedicated to her.”
“Then you shall!” Rocca smiled, suddenly merry. “It be a long way off, but while we go a-traveling, I may teach you the novice’s lore, and you may teach me how to speak like you do.”
“Your Holiness, you speak from the heart, and that makes your words far more moving than any a gerthddyn could say.”
“How kind you be! But still, there be other wandering priests and priestesses, and as much as they do love our goddess, they do lack the words to make others see the truth and come to her. There be a need for such as you to help to us. Please—do come with me?”
“Do you truly think I’m worthy?”
“If I had not so thought, would I be inviting you?” She sounded on the edge of laughing. “Now, whether it be possible for you to someday see the temple in Taenalapan, I mayn’t say. The deciding of that be for the holy council. But the shrine—certainly it does lie within my rights to take you there.”
“If you command, then I can but obey.”
Rocca smiled, Honelg and his womenfolk all smiled, and Salamander pledged them with his goblet of mead. Rocca got up, her smile disappearing into a yawn.
“I be fair tired,” she remarked. “There be a need on me for sleep.”
“Now, Your Holiness,” Adranna said, “are you sure I can’t give you a proper bed in the broch?”
“Very sure. Straw in the stables be good enough for me in this world. We shall all have so much better one fine day.”
When she left, Salamander said his good nights as well and went upstairs to the spare little chamber he’d been given. Rocca’s easy faith in his lies had made his guilt return in a breaking wave of shame. It receded, however, once he was safely alone and could do some hard thinking. He’d have wagered a fortune, had he had one, that Taenalapan, that city in the far west, must have once been called Tanbalapalim, an elven city destroyed by Horsekin over a thousand years before. The ancient lore stated that a vile plague had then conquered the conquerors, but Salamander knew that the ancient lore had already been proven wrong about one group of Horsekin, the civilized Gel da’Thae of Braemel. It could well be wrong a second time, as he remarked to Dallandra once he’d contacted her.
“That’s certainly true.” The thought-image of her face turned grave. “I don’t know exactly where Tanbalapalim was, but I’ll wager Meranaldar does.”
“Dar’s scribe? No doubt! He’s a great man