Elyon's Ghost, page 32
“There are several in my room.”
“Not like these. I have Mistress Dunaid make them up, especially for this purpose.” By the time she returned with the c-shaped pillow, Prya was pouring herself another glass. “Nervous?”
“A bit. But this is definitely going a long way toward calming those nerves.”
Sábria watched her swallow about half the contents before taking the wineglass from her hands and setting it on the table in front of the sofa. Making women comfortable enough to be naked in her presence was part of her training, and she’d found that with many, simply helping them out of their robes in a matter-of-fact way was all that was needed to get them to relax. She stepped behind her and gently slipped Prya’s robe off her shoulders. “Now, if you lie on your stomach with your face resting in the opening of the pillow, we can begin.”
Easing into the massage, Sábria rubbed the oils back and forth over every part of Prya’s body, alternately kneading or sliding her hands up and down long muscles. She concentrated on the upper back area the most, though. It was where Prya held her stress, and it was also where several scars made crisscrossing patterns from one side to the other. While she continued to slide her hands up and down the lean muscles, Sábria quietly asked, “Would you like to tell me how your back became so scarred?”
Prya lay quietly, deciding whether she wanted to speak about some of the most humiliating aspects of her childhood. Realizing she had nothing to hide from this gentle, caring woman, she began to speak. “Are you familiar with the Oracles of Elugar?”
“Somewhat. They’re a reclusive warrior sect who train for battle but rarely engage with an enemy if they can walk away instead.”
Not many people knew even that much about the sect, and Prya twisted around so she could look Sábria in the face. “Hm.” She lay back down when Sábria gently pushed on her shoulder. “That’s more than most people know. My grandfather, mother, and father were all training masters within the sect long before I was born. When I came along, the Zayne Umbra prophesied that there was a…I’m not sure of the word in Cibían…an omen, I suppose, but that’s not the literal translation. Anyway, he saw that my life belonged to the Goddess Elyon, which no one understood because there’d never been any indication that there even was such a Goddess.”
“They’d never heard of Elyon? Ever?”
“You said it yourself, My Lady, the Oracles of Elugar are a reclusive sect. Their compound is buried deep within the Mitrial forest above Firbridge. Warriors from every Kingdom go there to live and study with the Oracles. They stay for a minimum of ten years and then go back out into the world, hopefully, to do good things.”
She grunted when Sábria dug stiff fingers into her upper back but then sighed with pleasure when those same fingers slid through the oil, releasing the tension in a particularly stubborn muscle. “Oh Goddess bless, you have magical fingers, My Lady.”
Sábria smiled and quietly continued the massage, preferring to let Prya speak, since it was so difficult to get her to open up.
“Anyway. The Oracles, like my family, for example, never leave. I doubt any living members of the sect, other than myself, have ever left. But Elyon called. And since she called me to walk through those gates, I’ll never be allowed to return. The reason you didn’t catch my accent at first is because I didn’t grow up in Firbridge. But, the only people outside of the temple I ever saw growing up were the men and women from Firbridge who brought trade goods that my people lacked. I picked up their accent by listening to them. They, along with the warriors who came to study, fascinated me.”
Sábria’s hands paused a moment and then resumed their ministrations. “Oh, Child. No wonder you’re so lost and alone.” She surprised Prya by leaning down and kissing the back of her neck. “You’re not alone any longer, Prya. We’re your family now, and if you choose to continue to wander, this will always be your Northern Star. You can always come back home to us.” She leaned back again. “And, I’ve said it before, if you want to become a Blade, you’re always welcome.” She ran a finger down one of the scars. “But that doesn’t explain these.”
“I’d like to thank you for not assuming that I intend to live in the Temple for the rest of my life. I don’t feel I can make that commitment—at this point, anyway. But the fact that you’d still consider me one of your Blades means everything to me. I do believe I’ve found my home, even if I feel the need to one day go wandering again.”
“Roll.” Sábria pulled up on Prya’s arm so she’d roll onto her back.
“As far as the scars, my parents and my grandfather believed that if I was going to do great things, my training had to be great as well. Because of that, they were very strict masters and disciplinarians. And, as painful as that training was, I have to believe it saved my life when I battled those three Champions and their Rulers.”
Her question answered, Sábria rose and absently rubbed her hands together to work in any excess oil. “We’re all done for the day. How do those muscles feel?”
Prya closed her eyes and sighed. “Like they want to lay here the rest of the night, free from all the stress of the outside world.” She opened her eyes when she heard the door quietly shut, smiled, and closed them again.
CHAPTER 32
That evening, as Sábria stood looking out her window, she saw several Blades taking firewood through the breezeway between the Infirmary and the Dining Hall. Several couples were wandering that way, and she was glad to see many of the shivs going as well. She called out, “Shirin.”
Shirin stuck her head around the door. “Yes?”
“Did you know they’re planning an event in the Bladefire Circle?”
There was nothing more Shirin loved than the evenings when they could relax and sing and dance in front of a roaring fire. A smile lit her face, and she came to stand next to Sábria. “I wonder whose idea that was. It’s been a while since we’ve had a Bladefire.” She grinned. “You ready?”
Sábria grabbed Shirin’s hand and, like a little girl, pulled her out the door. “Of course. When have I ever missed a Bladefire?”
When they walked into the courtyard, more people were streaming through the breezeway toward the firepit. Mistress Fullman was supervising at least ten blades who were carrying large baskets of freshly baked bread, pastries, and pies. Another ten were carrying out large kegs of ale, and still another group was bringing tables and baskets of wooden cups and plates that were only used for Bladefire nights.
Sábria was glad to see Jenx with an arm slung across Ailith’s shoulders, laughing and pointing out the firewood being carted toward the pit. When they walked beneath the archway and emerged into the Bladefire Circle, she glanced around and spotted Killian practically pushing a reluctant Emlyn in front of her.
Killian spotted them and laughed, shaking her head at how averse her shiv was to having fun.
In reading her books about Kibrunian society, Sábria had discovered that not only didn’t they enjoy casual touch, but their only music was religion based and very serious and gloomy. They considered fun gatherings to be unseemly and rarely laughed together or had fun. Sábria had passed along her findings to Killian, who’d become determined to help Emlyn relax and enjoy her life in the Temple.
The firepit enclosure was one of Sábria’s favorite spots in the entire Temple. She had nothing but pleasant memories of past Bladefires where she’d lain with one of her friends on a blanket in the grass or eaten so much food she could barely make it back to her room.
The area was fenced in with a circular wooden fence that was so big one hundred very inebriated Blades had once lain head-to-foot to see how many of them it would take to make it across the entire grassy field. Whoever had first built the Bladefire Circle, as the area was called, had placed the firepit in the exact center of the fenced-in area.
Subcommander Calit joined them, and the three walked through the crowds of Blades and shivs who were milling around and talking as though they’d not seen each other in ages. Sábria wondered how so many of her people had known about a Bladefire night without her somehow hearing about it. She turned and asked Calit, “Whose idea was this?”
Calit held up a finger to Geller, who was motioning for her to join her at one of the food tables. “Well, things have been kind of stressful lately, and a bunch of us got together and decided to spread the word we were going to have a Bladefire if anyone cared to join us.” She indicated the close to two hundred people who were talking and laughing or helping to set up the food tables or lighting the fire. “I guess more people than just us thought we needed something fun happening around here.”
The stress of the past several moons melted away, and a broad smile chased away the worry and fatigue that had lately been an all too familiar sight on the Arch Priestess’ face. “Well, I’m going to walk around and visit with people I haven’t spoken to in a while.” Before she left, she kissed Calit on the cheek. “Thank you, my friend. I think we all needed this more than we realized.”
Calit smiled back, “You’re welcome, My Lady. I hope you enjoy yourself as much as I intend to.” As Sábria walked away, Calit turned to Shirin and winked.
Shirin’s eyes were bright as she patted Calit on the back and went to help light the fire, which was being stubborn tonight. Someone had already gone around lighting the lanterns, and the Circle was a wonderfully inviting, bright, and cheerful place that evening.
Once the fire was roaring and the robust smell of burning hickory filled the air, people began settling down with plates full of sweets or mugs of ale. Geller, Osstendler, Calit, Soirin, Marne, and Faylin brought out their instruments and began playing rousing songs that had people setting aside their plates and either clapping along or moving to the dance area.
Sábria began seeing Blades who should have still been out patrolling on gloaming shift, and she guessed that they’d be coming in to enjoy the Bladefire a few at a time. When the numbers increased, her brows furrowed, and she wondered whether Shirin was aware that too many of them were coming in off the streets.
Shirin was reclining in the grass, and when Sábria came over and sat, the Commander propped herself onto an elbow and grinned at her friend. “Almost a perfect night.”
“Almost? And have you noticed—”
Just at that moment, the alarm bell began clanging in the courtyard. Sábria jumped to her feet, expecting everyone else to do the same. Instead, the music and the dancers stopped, and conversations ceased. Everyone seemed to be staring at her. Not only that, they were all grinning like fools, and some even had tears rolling down their cheeks.
From within the breezeway, a female’s voice bellowed, “Where’s th’ fowkin’ Priestess what claims she can wear th’ name of me ship without askin’ th’ permission of Captain Gweyir Wynlafur, eh?”
Sábria’s hands flew to her mouth, and her gaze locked onto the vine-covered archway.
Shirin came up behind her and said, “Now, My Lady, it’s a perfect night.”
A woman with skin as dark and deep as the midnight sky strolled out of the breezeway. Thirty or forty braids cascaded down her back and framed her heart-shaped face, and she flashed a set of perfectly straight white teeth. She flung her arms open wide, and when Sábria ran and threw herself into them, a cheer rose up from well over three hundred Blades and civilians alike.
Gweyir caught Sábria up and spun her in circles before setting her on her feet, taking her face between her hands and kissing her deeply and with so much passion that the Blades filled the night with a second cheer and then a third as the captain continued to kiss their Arch Priestess as though she never intended to come up for air.
When Gweyir finally pulled her lips away, she rested her forehead against Sábria’s and whispered, “I’m sorry I frightened ya. I sailed back to ya as soon as I could, me Lovely Lover Lass.”
Sábria pulled her into an embrace and held her close to her heart. In the background, the musicians began to play a slow, gentle song, and while laughter and conversation resumed around them, the Priestess and her Captain swayed in each other’s arms beneath a cloudless, moonlit night.
CHAPTER 33
Later that evening, Gweyir was holding forth from her usual place, which was front and center of any group she happened to be around. Sábria had often described her as a force of nature, and as she watched her now, she thought about the place in her heart that had felt so empty and dark without the woman who brought such laughter and cheer into their lives.
Gweyir was calling out names and telling bawdy tales about how this Blade had gotten drunk and danced naked at an alehouse or how that one had lost their shirt, literally, in a game of dice. Nothing was out of bounds, and people loved the exuberant sea captain for her playful, off-color ways. Sábria amended that thought in her mind. Even though nothing was out of bounds, Gwe never belittled people or made a joke at another’s expense.
Marzet somehow managed to get a word in edgewise. “I heard Prime Geller say Polperro means Arch Priestess in the Trenchian Isles. Is that true?”
Gweyir grinned, “Aye. And I only allow our Lady Sábria to use th’ name outta th’ goodness of me heart.”
Jenx called out, “We’d heard the Polperro sank. Tell us what happened to you out there.”
Gweyir puffed out her chest and, with a show of great bravado, put her hands on her hips and shouted, “Do ya think there’s a hurricane out there what can sink Gweyir Wynlafur’s Polperro? The fowkin’ wind blew us so far off course fer so many days no one had any idea where to find us. Then, she snapped me mast in two like that.” Her fingers made a cracking sound as she snapped them next to her face, and th’ waves slammed us up onto an island so hard five of me best sailors were hurled overboard.”
She paused and shook her head. “We were beached. Two landed on th’ sand, and one broke her neck. Th’ other broke his back and died before we could get to him. Th’ other three were swept back out to sea, and we never saw ’em again. The rain were comin’ down as though Elyon herself were cryin’ at their loss.”
She swallowed a mouthful of ale, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and looked out over the crowd who’d grown suddenly quiet. “Aye, I grieve fer ’em, but—” she held up a finger, and her unflappable exuberance returned, “Elyon saved one hundred and eighty of me crew by shovin’ th’ Arch Priestess up onto those shores.” She grinned wickedly at Sábria, “Somethin’ I hope to be doin’ later tonight, eh?”
Sábria’s mouth fell open, and she knew a blush had risen in her cheeks. No one but Gweyir Wynlafur could ever make her blush, but somehow Gwe did it every time she filled the Temple with her presence. Since it was a festive occasion and since it was Gwe who’d said it, most of her Blades hooted and catcalled, something they’d never dare do under normal circumstances.
Sábria accepted the embarrassment with a mock glare and a shake of the head, prompting Gwe to pull her into her arms and kiss her again. This brought on more catcalls, and since it seemed as though Gwe was more interested in their Arch Priestess than in telling more stories right then, most went back to their enjoyment of the evening.
Ailith had always been lucky at games of chance, and she’d joined a group of Blades playing cards at one of the wooden tables. Sábria and Gwe were slowly making their way around the Circle, speaking with various groups, when they stopped to talk to some of the Blades at Ailith’s table.
Not knowing the captain, Ailith had kept to the back of the crowd most of the night and hadn’t really gotten a good look at the woman. She’d just won a game, so it was her turn to shuffle and deal the next round. She was absently gathering everyone’s cards when she happened to look up into a pair of large, beautiful breasts stuffed into a not-so-large maroon tunic sporting very deep cleavage. Her mouth fell open, and she stared with pleasure at the captain’s chest.
The chest heaved as the woman laughed aloud, cupped her breasts, and practically shouted, “Do ya want some of these, Youngling?”
Ailith came out of her trance with a start. Shocked into answering without thinking, she laughed up into an ebony face shining with the reflected light of the surrounding lanterns. “Oh, Aye! I’d be happy to milk those fer ya anytime!”
Gwe put her head back and roared with laughter at the exact same time Sábria barked, “Ailith!”
Sobering, Ailith batted innocent eyes tinged with more than a hint of mischief. “After you, of course, Milady.” She had just enough time to leap off of her bench and run before Sábria propelled herself over the table and gave chase. With Gwe’s laughter booming behind her, Ailith ignored her pulled muscle and led the Arch Priestess on a merry chase.
When she swung back past her table, the captain grabbed Sábria and pulled her into her arms. “Oi, Youngling!” When Ailith stopped and looked back, a huge smile broke over Gwe’s face. “This is how ya handle her.” With that, she did what she’d been doing all night. She took Sábria’s mouth in her own and teased her Priestess into happy submission.
Ailith laughed and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, aye. I’ll remember that.”
Sábria pushed away from Gwe and glared at her shiv, but she broke into laughter when Ailith playfully pumped her brows up and down and grinned wickedly at her. Unbidden and unexpected tears came to Sábria’s eyes, and she turned toward Gwe to hide them. She couldn’t believe how blessed she was to have both her mischievous shiv and her crazy, fun-loving Captain Gweyir Wynlafur back in her life.
Pulling in a breath, she found Shirin in the crowd and dipped her chin, silently thanking her for this magical night.
Shirin raised her mug of ale and responded with a contented smile of her own.
Before long, Sábria and Gwe thanked everyone and said their goodnights before wandering arm-in-arm to Sábria’s rooms. That was the signal for everyone to begin putting out the fire and cleaning up after the rowdy and enjoyable evening. The gloaming Blades had returned to their patrol a few candlemarks earlier, and the deadnight Blades were excused to go get their uniforms and weapons ready to start their shift.
