oaths without reservation?”
Not completely. Tranquility knew that from their rehearsals, and her own emotional reaction to the question was an instant answer-there were no secrets in Bergashamm. “I have known candidates be less certain,” she said. “If the goddess is not satisfied, She will not accept him.” That argument sounded weak even to her.
Limpid agreed, though. “If holy Mayn cannot accept a seasoner into Her mystery, She will refuse him.”
Carillon said, “Irresponsible thinking! We are supposed to stand behind the candidates we submit. Any time the All-Knowing refuses one of our candidates, we are disgraced!”
There were more questions about sincerity, integrity, dedication, until Ember asked, “It is customary for new-sworn Witnesses to be posted to obscure, faraway places. Is he reconciled to spending the rest of his youth at the back of beyond?”
(alarm) from Dantio.
“I have not asked him that,” Tranquility admitted, “and the matter seems to trouble him. May the candidate speak to the question?”
(shock-disapproval-indignation) were gradually overruled by (approval) as this outrageous suggestion was considered. The Eldest nodded her little skull head.
Tranquility said, “Speak.”
“Honored Witnesses,” Dantio said softly (resignation), “it is my intention, if accepted, to apply for posting to Zorthvarn.”
(bewilderment) flowed into (amusement)…
“The novice shames us,” Ember said. “Where is Zorthvarn and why does he care?”
“Honored Witnesses, it is a very small settlement in the south. It is rumored to have been the birthplace of Hrag Hragson, the Fist’s father, although I am told that this is not recorded in the Wisdom. At Zorthvarn I would hope to discover who Hrag was, where he came from, and where he has gone, for his death is no more recorded than his life.”
Implications rolled like thunder through the crypt. (amazement-distaste-anger-jubilation) The split yawned open.
Outspoken Carillon said, “We should know these things!”
Thou shalt not compact with the Evil One.
“Sisters,” mumbled Starfire, who was almost as shriveled as the Eldest. “You see how this candidate might do his duty to the goddess as She requires and yet change the flavor of the world? What can he tell us of the death of the saintly Healer Ferganfar?”
Dantio’s silent scream of agony filled the crypt, making every elder cringe. He was no longer the callow child who had failed to appreciate the old man’s sacrifice. Tranquility squeezed his shoulder in warning.
“That question is improper!” The Eldest never spoke at this stage of an initiation, but rules were for breaking, she often said.
“But it is most relevant!” Starfire said. “If it was nothing else, that event was a message to us.”
(shock-outrage-jubilation)
Painfully, leaning on her cane, Starfire plodded forward through the sand to stand with Tranquility. Soon others followed. The silent movement continued until a clear majority had lined up behind the candidate. Would the goddess accept the verdict?
When the movement ceased, the Eldest whispered, “The candidate may offer allegiance. Is he ready?”
Unnecessarily, Dantio said, “He is,” in a shaky voice.
This was the moment of truth, holy Mayn’s truth. This was when the goddess would either grant him the powers of a Witness or refuse them. The elders would all know Her decision from his reaction, and if he had been refused they would banish him from the lodge instantly and forever.
The Eldest administered the oath, Mist repeating the words after her. When he pronounced the final ‘Amen,’ his amazement exploded through the crypt like a thunderbolt. He cried out in joy… blinked a couple of times… smiled widely… then leapt to his feet and turned to bow to his supporters.
Part III
FABIA CELEBRE
could hear the hunter’s breath behind her. Not literally. She was still sitting in the grass with her three brothers, but with her fingertips dug into the cold earth she could sense the Old One sending her warnings. She knew now why Dantio had told her all this. He was clever, her eldest brother, and she was being hunted.
She said, “And what did you discover at Zorthvarn?”
On other islands, riverfolk were singing. They would not be doing that if they knew how many Heroes were camped nearby, or that a horde might be on its way.
“Not much.” Dantio had talked himself hoarse. “I found some old-timers who remembered an evil man called Hrag. He was suspected of being a Chosen, so the village drove him out, him and his daughter. No one remembered her name, or knew where they went.” Even in the darkness, his bitterness showed sometimes, in a quaver of voice, a tightness. His prayer that the gods would let him watch Saltaja die seemed very reasonable now.
The night was windless, very quiet. Voices murmuring around the campfires at the far end of the clearing seemed scarcely louder than the whine of insects and the occasional plop of a fish jumping.
“No wife? Hrag had no woman?”
“No.”
“And what happened to Hrag in the end?”
“Nobody knows. He may still be around.”
“Is Saltaja the satraps’ sister or their mother?” rumbled Benard, a human boulder in the darkness.
Dantio said, “Possibly both. I heard old gossip that it was indications of another child about to appear that resulted in their banishment.”
That felt right to Fabia. Incest was horrible enough to make sense in this grim, chthonic situation.
Ever wary, Orlad said, “And why have you been entertaining us with all this?” He could sense the prowler too.
“I’ll tell you why,” Fabia said. “Because Horold is camped downstream and the seer he has with him is Tranquility, or Dantio thinks she is.”
“It is known,” Dantio said sadly. “It is she. She did not come with him willingly, for she is the only Witness there and she is not veiled. She stayed in the boat tonight, did not go ashore.”
“She must be chained, then.” Benard was plodding his way through the mental thicket. “She was at Kosord when you left?”
“Yes.”
“Horold has a vile temper. If he forced her-struck her, say-the others would know, and flee, yes? Without their veils they would just be women of the palace. Hmm! And he couldn’t round them up in advance, because they would know his men were coming? So he just got one.”
Orlad made a scoffing noise. “Our Hand is a tactical genius. My darling Fabia, the family seer is hinting that we owe him a good turn or two. He wants us to go and rescue the old bag-head.”
The riverfolk finished their song. Another started farther away and was picked up by closer camps in unison.
Dantio said, “I must try to rescue her, yes. I have no choice, brother. Even a half-man like me cannot deny the sort of debt I owe Tranquility. How can I leave her there when I expect Arbanerik’s men to attack before dawn? Abandon her to die in the massacre? If any of you will help me, I will be very grateful. I do not deny that the attempt will be dangerous.”
