Chapter 12

Family Descent

Book One �" Divergence

Part I �" Novices

Chapter 12

July 1657

 

            Iyara sat on a stone bench in the West Alley of the temple complex and carefully turned the page of the old book she held gingerly in her hands. The morning sun slanted in through the buttresses and cast arched shadows on the garden of the alley. Above her, set within the four spaces nestled between the buttresses on the temple wall, four marble statues of the goddess looked down over the alley. Each statue represented one of the four aspects of the goddess. The first showed the goddess as a comely young woman heavy with child �" the bringer of life. The second was a slightly older version of the same woman with her arm around a small girl �" guardian of children. The third showed a still older version of the goddess, more muscled and carrying a rod and standing in front of two smaller women �" the protector of woman. The fourth showed an elder goddess in voluminous veils kneeling on the ground. She cradled a sleeping or dead woman �" the protector of departed spirits of comforter of the grieved.

            “Ah, the tale of the revered Gurta,” a voice sounded behind Iyara and she started. So engrossed had she been in the book that she had not heard another approach. She turned and looked over her shoulder and there stood a priestess she had not seen before. Dark of skin was the priestess with dark tightly curled hair cropped close to her head.

            “Forgive me, daughter, I did not mean to startle you,” the priestess said. Her voice was like honey and the words, though Ilithan, had an unfamiliar accent to them that was pleasing to the ear. She came around the front of the stone bench.

            “I was deeply into the tale and did not hear your approach.” Iyara answered. She observed the priestess was dressed in simple white robe with no ornament but the silver holy symbol around her long graceful neck. She was barefoot and Iyara smiled as the sight brought forth, unbidden, memories of her brother and the habit he had picked up from Shalhanna.

            “May I join you?” The priestess asked gesturing with a long-fingered hand at the empty spot beside Iyara on the bench.

            “Please do,” Iyara answered.

            “Thank you,” the priestess replied as she sat down beside Iyara. The woman appeared to be in her mid twenties but there was about her an air of authority and wisdom that Iyara found appealing. “The tales of Gurta have always been a favorite of mine,” the priestess continued.

            “Why so?” Iyara asked as she marked her place within the book, closed it and held it carefully in her lap.

            “For surely she was chosen and favored by Ilmatar,” the priestess answered.

            “You say so?” Iyara asked. “As yet I have read of nought but hardship and tragedy. It seems to me she was terribly afflicted not the least of which by her own heritage.”

            The priestess smiled and it seemed the sun shone more brightly in the alley. “’Tis true what you say,” she agreed. “As an ogress, she was much shunned, not only by the populace in general but by the servants of Ilmatar as well, for she did not conform to the expectations of a priestess of the goddess.”

            “Then how can you believe she have been favored?” Iyara asked with confusion lining her forehead.

            “Ah,” replied the priestess with an upraised finger. “Here you have one of the goblinkind, despised by all, but yet Ilmatar called her to service and she answered the call; despite all obstacles facing her. She became a mighty tool in the hands of the goddess.”

            “Through her deeds in the war?” Iyara surmised. Again the priestess smiled.

            “Yes, to some degree.” The priestess agreed. “Yet, her greatest service to the goddess was in showing her servants that she and she alone would choose who served her and, she and she alone would choose how they served.

            The church had become restrictive and began to decide its own purpose and rules and precepts. That is never a good thing; for always must the goddess’ will come before all. The servants do not instruct the mistress how to handle her affairs.”

            “I believe I understand.” Iyara said after some consideration.

            “Yes, I believe you do,” the priestess agreed with a smile. Then she rose, “I have much enjoyed our conversation but now I must be on my way. Fare you well, sister.” As the priestess turned and began to walk toward the temple door Iyara called after her.

            “May I know your name, sister?” The priestess paused and turned slightly to face Iyara.

            “I am called Rashida,” she said and turned once again to the temple door.

            “May the goddess guard you, Rashida,” Iyara said.

            “She always does, Iyara. She always does,” the priestess replied with a lyrical laugh and, without turning back, she disappeared into the temple.

            The bell within the temple rang twice and Iyara started. She jumped up from the bench and hastily entered the temple for a lecture was called for and she must not be late.

 

            A dozen simple wood chairs were arranged in a circle in the center of the room. In three of the chairs sat Iyara, Tessa and Kiara. Across from them sat Melli and she was flanked by four other priestesses, two to her right and two to her left.

            “As you well know,” Melli began, “there are four orders within the church of Ilmatar. Each of these orders represents one of the aspects of the goddess. Although it is not yet time for you to choose, it is time to begin thinking about it.” Melli’s gaze swept across the faces of the novices stopping on each for a brief moment.

            “The choice will force you to weigh many factors; your own personal skills, personalities and inclinations. Too, you may be called by the goddess to one or the other of orders.

            Each of the sisters here,” Melli said and spread out her arms to indicate the priestesses on either side, “belongs to one of the four orders and they will tell you of each now.” Melli nodded to the priestess on the far right.

            “I am Danial,” said the priestess, “and I am a Sister of the Wellspring.” Danial was a sturdy woman of average appearance. Her face, while not attractive, as open and her brown eyes were gentle. Her medium brown hair was short and was peppered with grey streaks. She wore a white robe with a long red scarf that hung from her shoulders. She had a small sickle shaped knife at her hip.

            “The Sisters of the Wellspring are protectors and benefactors of mothers and midwives. In fact, we are all trained in midwifery. I, myself, have delivered nearly one hundred children into the world. We are charged with protecting mothers and expectant mothers from harm. We educate new mothers on the challenges of carrying a child safely to term and once they are born. We also offer prayers and perform rites associated with the mother and newborn at the time of birth. As must be obvious, there is much study involved. The life cycles and birthing habits of many races must be learned and understood as well as general healing, herb lore an the like. Most often a Sister of the Wellspring will serve a single temple where mothers will seek us out. There are, however, many of our order who travel the countryside to remote villages and hamlets where no temple is found in order to offer succor to the folk therein.”

            Melli nodded, “Thank you, Danial. Sister Razi, if you please.” Melli said to the priestess immediately to her right.

            Razi was a much younger woman than Danial with long copper hair that fell down her back. She, too, wore a white robe but she wore a pale blue scarf tied around her waist. Attached to the scarf by a silver chain was a small silver object that looked like a child’s spinning top. Her face was kindly and calming.

            “I am Razi and I am a Daughter of Ilmatar,” she said in a voice that was melodic and soothing. “The Daughters of Ilmatar are protectors and guardians of children. We do serve to protect children from harm of any sort and aid parents in the raising of children. Like the Sisters of the Wellspring, many of serve temples where we are sought out by those in need yet many travel far and wide. Some do serve as governesses. We are schooled in the ways of child-rearing and all manner of childhood illnesses and traumas. There are many orphanages operated by the Daughters of Ilmatar for those unfortunate children left alone to face the world before they are prepared.”

            “Thank you, Razi,” said Melli and gestured to the priestess nearest her left. This priestess had short brown hair that fell no further than her shoulders. Instead of a robe she wore leather breeches and a sleeveless leather vest both of which were dyed scarlet. The well toned muscles of her bare arms bespoke of strength. She wore a white scarf edged in black over one shoulder and across her chest like a bandolier. At her hip was a sturdy silver rod eighteen inches in length.

            “I am Colette,” she said, “and I am a Sister of Arms. It is our sworn duty to protect other priestesses and all worshippers of Ilmatar. Normally there a number of our order at every temple to protect the temple should the need arise, but also we act as escorts for traveling priestesses, pilgrims and any other follower of the goddess who has need of such protection. As you can well imagine, we spend a great deal of time on martial training as well as maintaining our physical strength. Too, we learn of combat techniques and even battle strategy. Our combat skills focus on defensive actions for our aim is not to kill. In this we all carry a specially blessed rod that is our favored weapon and we are all trained in its use.” Colette patted the silver rod at her side. “The order is not one for the timid.” She nodded to Melli.

            “Thank you, Colette,” Melli said. “Hester” she spoke the name of the last priestess. The three novices had known from the start which order the last priestess belonged to. Dressed in ash grey robes and covered from head to toe in a long black veil, she was of the Dark Sisterhood. Three jaws dropped when the priestess pulled back the veil for they all expected a withered crone. Instead, they saw a young woman of transcendent beauty. Long golden blond hair framed her artistic face with its high cheekbones and china like complexion. Her full lips smiled radiantly. Wrapped around Hester’s torso and arms was a long, long chain of pea-sized silver beads that when unwound must have extended nearly fifty feet. The beads looped and drooped over the ash grey robes and like a tunic. When she spoke, her words held the accent of the eastern realm of Ebornia.

            “I am Hester of the Sisters of the Shroud. We represent Ilmatar’s grandmother aspect and are the guardians and comforters of the dying and the dead. Through the blessings of Ilmatar’s miracles we are able to aid the dying to pass peacefully to the next world. Too, we comfort those grief-stricken who are left behind. As the Sister’s of the Wellspring are there when the spirit comes into the world, we are there when it departs. Perhaps, most important of all, we can protect the departing spirit to ensure that it finds its way home and not be ensnared by foul sorcery or fell creatures that would bind them to world as spirits or undead creatures. We study the funerary rites of all peoples and cultures and become knowledgeable in all the ways a departing spirit may be led astray or bound. Too, many of our order are diviners because of our close association with the spirit world.”

            “Thank you, Hester,” Melli said then turned to the novices. “Have you any questions you would ask?” Tessa raised her hand.

            “Yes, Tessa, what would you know?” Melli said. Tessa cleared her throat.

            “Um, Sister Razi, does the order dictate where one serves?” she asked and then clarified, “I mean, if I were a Daughter of Ilmatar, I think I would prefer to serve in an orphanage. Can you choose or are you told where you will go?”

            “The order does not dictate,” Razi answered. “We may present options where service is needed, but if one has a calling to a particular service, it is not denied.”

            “Thank you.” Tessa said. Then Kiara spoke.

            “Sister Colette, would the Sisters of the Arms have need of an elven archer? For the bow is not generally a defensive weapon.” Sister Colette nodded and answered.

            “As I said, we prefer defense to offense but oft the latter is necessary. Too, an arrow need not slay. I myself am proficient with the bow but not as naturally gifted as an elf.” She smiled.

            “Iyara, have you a question?” Melli asked. Iyara did have a question for as each of the priestesses spoke she did not feel a calling toward but rather and urging away from each.

            “Are all priestesses required to belong to one of the orders?” She asked at last.

            “Why no,” Melli answered. “Some priestesses feel a need to represent all aspects of the goddess. Many become missionaries or pilgrims or serve as temple administrators and the like.”

            “I see,” Iyara said and then asked, “Is that what Sister Rashida is; a missionary or a pilgrim? For she was attired in nought but a simple robe and bore no symbols such as these.” She indicated the priestesses who all bore the symbols of their orders: silver knife and red scarf, silver top and blue sash, silver rod and white sash, and silver beads and black veil.

            “I do not know Sister Rashida but perhaps it is so,” answered Melli. “Did you meet her at your parent’s school?” She asked Iyara.

            “Why no, Melli.” Iyara answered. “I met her just a few hours ago in the West Alley. We discussed the blessed Gurta.” Then did Melli frown.

            “We have no Sister Rashida at this temple. I suppose she could be a guest but I haven’t heard of any visitors.” Melli turned to look at each of the other priestesses; her raised eyebrows asking the silent question. Each of the priestesses shook her head for none had been told of any visiting priestesses staying at the temple.

 

            Later that evening, at the Evensong and evening meal, Iyara looked for Rashida but did not find her among the priestesses. Too, for several days she asked every priestess she saw if they knew of Sister Rashida and the answer was always no.

            “I tell you, Catala, it is a mystery.” Iyara said to her friend as they walked in the roof garden after the evening meal.

            “Perhaps you fallen asleep on the bench and dreamed her.” Catala offered but Iyara shook her head.

            “No, she was there.”

            “Well then, as you say, it is a mystery indeed.” Catala said. Then she turned her head to Iyara, her bright red curls bouncing. “Have you heard from Korrie?”

            Again Iyara shook her head. “No and it is a mystery too.” Iyara frowned and her brows pulled down in concern. “He wrote so regularly at first, but nothing for more than a month now. I continue to send letters, but no replies come.”

            “Perhaps his apprenticeship keeps him preoccupied. I imagine he must be deep in study.” Catala said to assuage Iyara’s concern although she kept her own concerns to herself.

            “Perhaps so.” Iyara agreed although she remained unconvinced for her mother and father had written that they had not heard from their son in a long while either. “Mother says Shalhanna is of much the same opinion having apprenticed to Estarin herself.” Catala slipped her arm through Iyara’s and they began walking back to the temple. “Then let us to the kitchen and see if there is any of that delicious apricot tart left.” Iyara returned Catala’s smile.

            “Yes, let’s.” She replied and they entered into the temple.