normal. Instinctively wary, she ducked behind the nearest row of the columns that lined both sides of the great house of worship and waited for a moment, listening for any sound of alarm, any indication her sudden arrival had been noticed.
But all seemed quiet. Soon her stuttered breathing settled down, and as she touched the cool marble of a nearby column, she was reassured by its solidity. Looking around, she took stock of her surroundings. Though she was the lone visitor in the vestibule, a hundred or more voices were raised in a steady chant.
They were the prayers of vesperspeak, she knew, the ritual celebration of the clerics, apprentices, and acolytes that marked the end of church business for the day. She leaned back against the marble column and was reassured by the sounds that had been a part of her life since earliest childhood. The chants were in an ancient tongue, and she did not understand the words, but there was comfort merely in the solemn repetition. For long minutes she stood in the shadows, listening to the quasimusical prayers, which finally swelled to a crescendo that signaled the conclusion of worship.
Finally the ritual ended with a whispered benediction and a few moments of symbolic silence. Eventually Selinda could hear the low buzz of conversation as the clerics rose and offered each other good wishes before dispersing-some to their houses or apartments nearby, while others would make their way to residences in either wing of the great temple. She heard the soft rustling of robes and sandals as people filed out, past the shadowy alcove where she lurked. When most of the clerics had exited, she finally emerged and advanced into the great, vaulted sanctuary.
Some apprentices were tending to the many candles around the great room, extinguishing their flames, trimming wax, replacing tapers that had burned down too far. The apprentices took no notice of her as she quietly walked past them, keeping her hood over her hair and her eyes cast down. The great vault of the temple loomed high over her head, but the ceiling was as shadowy as the alcoves behind the columns, where the lighting was muted in deference to the just and mighty god, Kiri-Jolith.
Kiri-Jolith was the eldest son of Paladine and Mishakal, and in the absence of his sire, he had gained prominence in the worship of the Solamnic peoples. He was a righteous god of glory, honor, and discipline, known to favor the efforts of those warriors who fought bravely in a just cause. Soldiers who elected to fight to the death instead of retreating were exalted in the god’s eyes. Courage was valued among his orders of priests and priestesses, many of whose number had been martyred over the years because of their unwillingness to compromise their beliefs.
The temple was the setting, Selinda recalled with bitter irony, of her marriage to Jaymes. Her wedding day- indeed, all the time surrounding that event-remained a kind of fuzzy memory, as if it were something she had dreamed, rather than experienced. The place seemed so much more real as she walked its halls, stone and solid and permanent. In her heart, the young woman understood that the place hadn’t changed since her marriage, but she had.
She made her way to the left side of the great room and passed into the corridor leading to the Hall of Priestesses. Passing several young women who were moving quietly, almost gliding, from room to room, Selinda nodded pleasantly in response to their recognition. The wing she was in was the living quarters of a dozen of the senior female clerics as well as some fifty apprentices and novices, and the princess had visited there before. She turned into a small hall and went to the door at the end of the corridor. There she stopped, drew a breath, and knocked softly.
“Come in,” came the reply, the last word rising in inflection welcomingly.
She opened the door and saw Melissa du Juliette. The young high priestess was hanging her golden robe on an elaborate rack. She turned and smiled warmly.
“Selinda! It’s so nice to see you!”
Almost immediately after her greeting, however, Melissa’s brow furrowed in concern. Selinda hadn’t said anything, didn’t think that her practiced expression revealed her inner torment, but her friend and counselor had clearly perceived her anguish.
“Please! Come in; sit down. Take off that cloak-it’s so stuffy in here.” The priestess bustled around, pouring cups of tea.
The two women sat together on a low couch, holding their steaming cups, communing in silence. Selinda looked at Melissa, marveling at the young woman’s composure and maturity. Though barely thirty, the priestess had demonstrated such a keen intellect, and was so clearly blessed by the stern god of right and justice that she had quickly risen to a high position in the church. She was one of two high priestesses in the temple at Palanthas-two high priests served there as well-and Melissa du Juliette was younger by twenty years than any of her three colleagues.
Selinda had known her most of her life. Always, she had been a person the princess could talk to or simply enjoy her presence. As a teenage novice, Melissa had been one of the older girls who shared advice, gossip, and good humor with the young daughter of the city’s lord regent.
As they sat there, however, the wife of the emperor found herself at a loss for words. She was grateful that the priestess made no effort to draw her out, but seemed content to simply share the hot, spicy tea and sit quietly. Eventually, of course, the silence began to wear thin, and Selinda knew that she had to explain herself.
“I… I’m pregnant,” she began.
“Selinda!” Melissa’s face brightened, and she took both of the princess’s hands in her own. Then she frowned and looked at her friend more carefully. “Is it troublesome already? Are you in pain? Do you fear you’ll lose the child?”
“I don’t know. I’m not in pain, but I am afraid. Afraid that something will happen… or, sometimes, I confess, simply afraid I will have the child!” Selinda blurted.
The tears came then, and she let them flow unabated. The priestess gathered the other woman into her arms and held her, let the sobs, the anguish, run their course. Finally, the pregnant woman was able to push herself upright, draw a few steady breaths, and dry her eyes.
“I–I’m sorry,” she said. “That hasn’t happened before. I’ve been alone most of the time, and…”
“You don’t need to explain-about the tears,” Melissa replied. “But why do you grieve so? I understand your husband has taken his army through the pass, to Vingaard. Is that what worries you?”
Selinda shook her head. Somehow, she was strengthened by the thought of Jaymes Markham, and her apprehension became determination. “I felt this way even before he left. Indeed, I came to you because… because I am not sure that it is right to have this child. Perhaps I will be a poor mother-or what if it’s a boy, and he grows into a man like his father? What if I simply lost the baby? Perhaps that would be best!”
The priestess looked sad, moisture appearing in her own eyes. “Oh, child,” she said to the woman only a few years younger than herself. “Why? What makes you talk so wickedly?”
The princess raised her chin. “Is it wicked? What if the consequences of having the child are worse than the alternative?”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s my husband. He’s a very dangerous man. He’ll do anything to hold, to secure, his grip on power. The thing that would aid him the most in this goal is the birth of a son, an heir. Melissa, I don’t love him anymore; I don’t think I ever did.”
“But your marriage! I was there, performed the rites. You were head over heels!”
“I was bewitched, Melissa! I must have been! That’s the only explanation. You recall, I met Jaymes on the plains while he was still an outlaw; he had a strong presence even then. I caused him to be captured by General Markus’s men, and even in chains he seemed dangerous. When he first wooed me, I was cautious…
“But we shared some wine… and everything became very confused. My feelings for him changed in those moments, but it wasn’t anything he said. It must have been some potion in the wine!”
“This is a serious charge. If true, he has done you a great wrong. But surely you can see that the child is guiltless?”
“There is no child! Not yet. But I came to ask you if there is a way to stop that child from being born.”
“Selinda!” The priestess spoke with an air of resignation and finality. “What you ask runs counter to everything I hold sacred. I cannot help you in this matter. It is wrong.” Melissa sighed sorrowfully. “Still, I am glad you came to see me. I wish you had come sooner.”
“I couldn’t risk it. I have been locked in my chambers ever since he left. I only came now with the aid of this magic ring, from Coryn.”
