In Her Shadow(6)

Britta clenched her jaw, pressed her lips together to keep what she wanted to say deep inside. Perhaps she should kiss the feet of every priestess, but shouldn't every citizen of Ankshara get down and kiss hers for sacrificing herself for them? She couldn't say that of course, not in the Abbess of Night's earshot. "Yes, ma'am," she said. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

The old woman's hovering face floated back down into her seat. "That's better. You'll find humility will serve you well in this matter, as it will in so many others."

"What happens now?"

"You'll leave my chamber and return to yours. Weboshi and the others will come and prepare you. Then, you'll be off to meet with the Governor and your betrothed."

"No wedding?"

"As much as I'd like it to be done and over with, there are certain matters that must be seen to first."

"'Matters?'" Britta asked. If the Abbess was in such a hurry to introduce the two, why not go ahead and have them married? It was within the Abbess's power to perform the ceremony. It's not as if she needed anyone but the Goddess's permission.

"Yes, 'matters.' This arrangement is one of symbolism. The Regnals insisted, of course. It's their tradition to commemorate peace treaties after fifteen years with a ritual wedding between one of their aristocracy and one of the conquered's. It wouldn't do to have a function of such importance performed without the proper pomp and circumstance. Preparations have to be made."

"I understand," Britta said as she bowed her head.

"Good. You're dismissed."

Britta stood up and started for the door.

"Oh," said the Abbess as Britta cracked the door to leave. "One bit of advice for tonight: don't mention the war. May She hide you in Her shadow."

"May She hide you in Her shadow," Britta said, and slipped out.

***

Ankshara was not a city fond of horses. Everyone walked everywhere, even the small group of priestesses making their way through the darkened streets to the Governor's manse. Before The Siege, Britta had heard it said, the priestesses would go through the streets unarmed. Back then, what blasphemer would dare attack them? The sort that wanted to wake up with a slit throat. With Ankshara's conquest, however, came more foreigners than even this old sea port had ever seen. They infested the city with strange tongues, and foods, and ways. That was fine with the people of Ankshara, because it brought trade and wealth. Those same foreigners, though, ignorant of the city's traditions, came with attendant risks. There hadn't been any incidents yet. The abbey made sure visiting captains knew what would happen to their ships if one of their sailors got violent with a cloaked sister, but the Abbess of Night insisted such an attack was an inevitability.

So now the priestesses traveled armed. There was nothing formal about it. None of the women were trained combatants, but a life on the streets had made them practical, unflashy scrappers who sought to end a fight as quickly as possible. Even Britta carried a knife, though she wasn't from the streets. Weboshi had insisted. Hidden in the small of her back, the hilt dug into her flesh and made her wince with every step.

"Do I have to carry this thing?" she whispered to Weboshi as they stepped through the darkness.

"Thing? What thing?"

"The knife."

"Yes. Now hush up."

Of course "hush up." The night was sacred, and to move through it was to move through the body of the Goddess, to be surrounded by Her love. But Britta found it hard to meditate on the mysteries when she was so irritable. It wasn't just the knife, either. The whole damn situation worked her head into a powerful ache. She wanted to tell Weboshi, wanted to explain. She wanted to cry on Weboshi's shoulder, get it out of her system so that she could face her future drained of all emotion. But she couldn't. There wasn't time.

No, she thought, there had been plenty of time.

"What's the matter?" Weboshi asked from beside her, her voice a low in the wind. "You look pale."

"I'm scared."

"Scared?" Weboshi chuckled and shook her head. "Everyone gets scared before they get married."

Did they? How would Weboshi know? Where was the defiance she'd offered earlier? Was it that the Abbess of Night traveled several yards ahead of them? That made sense. No one knew what the old lady could and could not hear, so it was incumbent on Weboshi not to voice her concerns. It wasn't safe.

A thought struck Britta. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and wild as she glanced around the darkened streets. People moved about them, shadows set against shadows, shades parting for the bridal party as it passed.

Weboshi grabbed her upper arm and jerked her forward. "Come along. What is wrong with you?"

"Weboshi, what will happen to you after I'm married?"

"What?"

"Where will you go?"

"Go?" She pulled Britta close to her so that her chest pressed against the meat of Britta's arm. "Now isn't the time for talking."

Weboshi's refusal to answer set off a cavalcade of emotions inside Britta. She'd always assumed Weboshi would be there for her, looking over her shoulder, patting her on the back, telling her things were going to be okay. Was Weboshi's silence now reverence for the Goddess, or her way of punishing Britta for their argument earlier? Worse, what if Weboshi thought of her as a collaborator? Britta had mourned the loss of her real mother long ago, moved past it. It had never occurred to her the Regnals could steal her mother a second time. She wanted to reach out to Weboshi, touch her, apologize, but she couldn't. Despite standing next to her, Britta felt Weboshi's absence in her heart. As the priestesses shuffled along, Britta did her best to hide the sounds of her sobbing. Could the others hear her? Could the Abbess of Night? Could Weboshi? If they did, they didn't react. Let her get it out of her system, they probably thought. And they were right too, because, as they approached the gates of the Governor's manse, Britta knew the time for crying was at an end.