Priestess of the White

She moved to the top of the stairs and began to descend. By the time the girl appeared, panting and wide- eyed, in the doorless entrance of the lighthouse, Emerahl was most of the way down. She stopped. A quick channelling of power set the small pile of sticks and branches in the center of the floor burning. The girl stared at the fire, then looked up at Emerahl fearfully.

She looks so scrawny and worn out. But then, so do I.

“What do you want, girl?” Emerahl demanded.

“They say... they say you help people.”

The voice was small and subdued. Emerahl guessed this girl did not like to attract attention to herself. Looking closer, she saw the signs of physical development in the girl’s face and body. She would become an attractive woman, in a thin, scrawny way.

“You want to charm a man?”

The girl flinched. “No.”

“You want to un-charm a man, then?”

“Yes. Not just one man,” the girl added. “All men.”

Emerahl cackled quietly and continued down the stairs. “All men, eh? One day you might make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. I hate them.”

“What about your father?”

“Him most of all.”

Ah, typical teenager. But as Emerahl reached the bottom of the stairs she saw a wild desperation in the girl’s eyes. She sobered. This was no sulky rebellious child. Whatever unwanted attentions the girl was enduring had her terrified.

“Come over by the fire.”

The girl obeyed. Emerahl waved to an old bench she had found on the beach below the cliffs after a shipwreck, long before the village existed.

“Sit.”

The girl obeyed. Emerahl lowered herself onto the pile of blankets she used as a bed, her knees creaking.

“There are potions I can make that will take the wind out of a man’s sails, if you know what I mean,” she told the girl. “But dosing a man is dangerous, and temporary. Potions are no use unless you know what’s coming and can plan for it.”

“I thought you might make me ugly,” the girl said quickly. “So they don’t want to come near me.”

Emerahl turned to stare at the girl, who flushed and looked at the ground.

“There’s no safety in ugliness, if a man is drunk and capable of closing his eyes,” she said in a low voice. “And, as I said, one day you might want to make an exception.”

The girl frowned, but remained silent.

“I’m guessing there’s nobody down there willing or able to defend your virtue, or you wouldn’t have come,” Emerahl continued. “So I’ll have to teach you to do it yourself.”

She caught at a chain around her neck and drew it over her head. The girl caught her breath as she saw the pendant hanging from it. It was a simple hardened droplet of sap, taken from a dembar tree. In the light of the fire it glowed a deep orange. Emerahl held it at arm’s length.

“Look at it closely.”

The girl obeyed, her eyes wide.

“Listen to my voice. I want you to keep your eyes on this droplet. Look inside it. See the color. At the same time, be aware of the warmth of the fire beside you.” Emerahl continued talking, watching the girl’s face carefully. When the intervals between the girl’s blinks had lengthened, she moved her foot. The eyes fixed on the pendant did not shift. Nodding to herself, she told the girl to reach toward the droplet. Slowly the girl’s hand extended.

“Now stop, just there, close but not quite touching the droplet. Feel the heat of the fire. Can you feel the heat?”

The girl nodded slowly.

“Good. Now imagine that you are drawing heat from the fire. Imagine that your body is full of its gentle warmth. Do you feel warm? Yes. Now send that warmth to the droplet.”

At once the sap began to glow. The girl blinked, then stared at the pendant in amazement. The glow faded again.

“What happened?”

“You just used a little magic,” Emerahl told her. She lowered the pendant and put it back around her neck.

“I have Gifts?”

“Of course you do. Every man and woman has Gifts. Most don’t have much more than what it takes to light a candle. You have more Gift than that, however.”

The girl’s eyes were bright with excitement. Emerahl chuckled. She had seen that expression many times before. “But don’t go thinking you’re going to be a great sorceress, girl. You’re not that Gifted.”

That had the desired sobering effect. “What can I do?”

“You can persuade others to think twice before paying you more attention than you want. A simple shock of pain as a warning, and a numbing for those who don’t take it or are too drunk to feel pain. I’ll teach you both - and give you a little piece of advice to go with it. Learn the art of the flattering or humorous refusal. You might wish to see them robbed of their dignity, but a wounded pride will crave revenge. I have no time to teach you something as complex as how to unlock a door or stop a knife.”

The girl nodded soberly. “I’ll try, though I’m not sure it’ll work on my father.”

Emerahl hesitated. So it was like that. “Well, then. I’ll teach you these tricks tonight, but you must practice them afterward. It’s like playing a bone whistle. You might remember how a tune goes, but if you don’t practice playing it your fingers lose the knack.”

The girl nodded again, this time eagerly. Emerahl paused to regard her student wistfully. Though this one’s life had been hard, she was still so blissfully ignorant of the world, still full of hope. She looked down at her own withered hands. Am I any different, despite all the years I have on her? My time is long past and the world has moved on, but I’m still clinging to life. Why do I, the last of my kind, continue on like this?

Because I can, she replied to herself.

Smiling crookedly, she began to teach yet another young girl how to defend herself.

3

The Temple did not post guards at its entrance. In principle, all were free to enter. Once inside, however, visitors needed directing to those who could best serve their needs, so all initiates to the priesthood spent some of their time employed as guides.

Initiate Rimo didn’t mind this part of his duties. Most of the time it involved wandering along the paths of the Temple, basking in the sunshine and telling people where to go, which was much easier and more satisfying than lessons on law and healing. Something amusing happened during nearly every shift, and afterward he and his fellow initiates would gather together and compare stories.

After several days of greeting visiting monarchs, nobles and other dignitaries, none of the initiates were particularly impressed by tales of meeting important people anymore. Stories of the strange antics of ordinary visitors hadn’t regained their popularity, either. Rimo knew that only something as extraordinary as meeting Auraya of the White would gain him any admiration, and there was as much chance of that as...

Rimo stopped and stared in disbelief as a tall, bearded man walked through the White Arch. A Dreamweaver? Here? He had never seen one of the heathens in the Temple before. They wouldn’t dare enter the most sacred of Circlian places.