Chapter 18

Family Descent

Book One �" Divergence

Part I �" Novices

Chapter 18

April 1658

 

            Iyara, Kiara and Tessa all knelt within the nave of the temple proper. In front of them, as they faced outward, were assembled nearly all of the priestesses of the temple. Behind them, at the altar, was the Reverend Mother of the Duchy of Oruz, Batala Klidare. To her right was Vela, the Sister Superior of the city of Orlon, her perpetual frown fixed firmly in place. To Batala’s left was Sister Melli who, as if in deliberate opposition to Vela, was smiling ear to ear.

            Each of the novices were dressed in plain white robes and held in their cupped hands a silver medallion on which was engraved the rose and crescent moons of Ilmatar. A hundred candles burned in the temple; white tapers against white marble with rose pink veins. Marble urns along the walls and flanking the altar and filling the nave held carefully tended and blessed rose bushes in red and pink and white and yellow.

            The three priestesses at the altar were arrayed in their most formal vestments. Vela and Melli, both Sisters of the Wellspring, wore long white robes with red scarves hanging from their shoulders to fall to the waist. A cord was cinched at the waist and each had their silver crescent shaped knives fixed thereupon. The Reverend Mother was a Daughter of Ilmatar and she, too, wore a long white robe which with a pale blue sash tied around her waist. On a silver chain the symbol of the order, a silver child’s top, hung from the sash. All three wore, on their breasts, a silver medallion bearing the mark of the goddess.

            “We are gathered at his appointed time before the goddess for a most joyous purpose,” said the Reverend Mother; her soft but firm voice carrying easily to the ear of everyone present. “A year has passed since these three among us began their initiation into the great mysteries of Ilmatar and the time of initiation has come to end.” Iyara swallowed a lump and tried to calm the stirrings in her stomach.

            “Hard have they worked and long have they studied the ways. Each has become valued and loved for her own individual merit and because of the love and reverence they have for the goddess. Yet I would ask that all that have assembled today search their hearts and bespeak any reason they might find that any of these three should not enter into the service of the goddess.”

            Iyara felt perspiration dewing her brow as the eyes of all the priestesses inspected her and the other novices. She trembled inside waiting for someone to question her worthiness; expecting Vela to voice some objection over her struggles. Yet, after a silent minute she heard the Reverend Mother’s voice again.

            “No objections have been voiced. We welcome them into our fold. Sister Melli, if you would,” She said. Although she did not turn her head, in the corner of her eye she saw Melli move to stand behind Tessa; the diminutive Halfling priestess the same height as the kneeling Tessa.

            “Tessa, may the blessings of the goddess be bountiful upon you. You are welcome into her service,” Melli said. The medallion Tessa held flared brilliant silver for just an instant. “The goddess welcomes you. Arise, Sister Tessa.” Melli then addressed the assembly. “Tessa has chosen to join the Daughters of Ilmatar in order to spare children the tribulations she faced as a child herself.” Many heads in the assembly nodded their approval.

            Next Melli stepped behind Kiara and repeated the blessing and Kiara’s symbol blazed as well. “Kiara has chosen to join the Sisters of Arms in order that she may protect those who bow to the goddess’ will.” Again heads nodded for Kiara’s skill with the bow was well known and she had excelled in all martial training.

            Last Melli stepped behind Iyara. Iyara felt the priestess’ hands on her shoulders as she repeated the blessing. The medallion in Iyara’s flared as had the others and she felt gentle warmth in the palms of her hands where she held the amulet. “The goddess welcomes you,” Melli said. “Arise Sister Iyara.” Iyara stood. “Iyara has chosen,” Melli began but a voice from the assembly cried out.

“No”

All heads turned to find the speaker and at the rear of the assembly a figure stood. She was dressed as a Sister of the Shroud, long grey robes and a black gauzy veil that covered her from head to foot. “It’s Sister Jannir,” whispered several voices in the temple. Sister Jannir was a powerful diviner and prophetess who was held in high regard among the priestesses. As they watched in confusion Jannir’s aspect altered; the black veil seemed suddenly shot through with silver threads aglow in golden sunlight. A warm gentle draft bestirred the air in the temple carrying with it the scent of roses. It swirled about the nave and the altar and a handful of white roses released their petals into the draft and they fluttered around Iyara to come to rest on her shoulders and in her golden hair.

“No,” repeated Jannir in a voice that was not Jannir’s but one that was strong, gentle, and carried a power that seemed to come from someplace beyond. “This one is mine alone. To no order will she belong but serve me in whole. She is Sister Iyara and she will be mine golden hand in the age of tribulation to come.” When the voice began all the priestesses fell to their knees save Iyara who stood stock still in shock.

Iyara’s jaw was slack and she felt a tingling on her shoulders and in her hair. “Take up these petals, mine symbols, and have them fashioned into a chain that thou shalt wear to show my mark upon thee,” commanded the goddess who inhabited Jannir. Then the elderly priestess fell into her seat. The other priestesses stirred; several went to Jannir’s side to see if she was well. A young priestess nodded toward the altar indicating that Jannir was sound.

Other priestesses circled Iyara. Melli plucked up one of the petals and they all saw that the petals had turned to silver. Batala bade several of the priestesses who were skilled in healing to bear the unconscious Jannir to her cell and to tend her as they thought best. The Reverend Mother then hastily concluded the rite. The priestesses were dismissed but to Vela, Melli and Iyara she said.

“I would you in my chambers.” She then strode through the rear of the nave and out through a doorway hidden by a white velvet curtain. Vela followed her out and then Melli helped Iyara collect the silver petals. Iyara held the petals in her cupped hands and followed Melli through the curtained doorway.

 

The Reverend Mother’s chambers were on the second floor of the rear wing of the temple and had large windows that overlooked the rooftop garden. They were simply furnished with solid, well-made furniture that had served dozens of Reverend Mothers for centuries. The outer room was a small parlor with serviceable chairs arranged around a small fireplace. On the opposite side of the room was a small writing table and chair. A second door led out of the room and although it was closed, Iyara assumed it led to Batala’s bedchamber. When Melli and Iyara had arrived Batala and Vela were already seated in two of the comfortable but worn chairs.

“Come in, sisters, and be seated,” Batala said when they entered. As Iyara moved to take one of the empty seats she chanced to glance at Vela and was surprised to find the woman’s frowning gaze replaced by one of contemplative awe. Iyara sat down gingerly still mindful of the precious silver rose petals she held. Batala reached down to a small table that sat center among the chairs and picked up a wooden bowl that had been lined with a white linen cloth. She held the bowl in front of Iyara.

“Here, child,” she said softly, “place your gift here.” Iyara gently laid the petals in the center of the cloth and Batala set the bowl back on the table.

“A momentous event has just occurred,” the Reverend Mother said as she sat upright again. “There has not been one like in my lifetime,” she turned to look at Vela and the elder priestess shook her head.

“Nothing like for ages,” Vela replied, “at least not that I’ve heard of.” Iyara cleared her throat.

“What is it Iyara?” asked Batala. “You are a novice no more, speak freely.”

“I don’t understand, Reverend Mother. Why did Jannir says those things and why does she lay a claim on me?” The new priestess looked to her elders with anxiety creasing her forehead and drawing her lips down. The three elder priestesses looked back in mild surprise.

“Do you truly not know, Iyara. Did you not feel in your heart?” asked Melli with such gentleness in her voice that Iyara nearly crumbled in confusion but shook her head instead. “’Twas not, Jannir who spoke then,” Melli explained, “’Twas the goddess herself; Ilmatar spoke through Jannir and claimed you for her own.” The small priestess leaned over and placed her tiny hand over Iyara’s hands that she clasped in her lap.

“But how? Is such a thing possible?” Iyara stammered, the color leaching from her face; her golden amber eyes pleading with Melli for understanding; but it was Vela who answered.

“Aye, it is possible and not unheard of,” the dour priestess said with more compassion that many priestesses of the temple had ever heard or would ever hear from the Sister Superior. “There are such instances recorded in the histories when Ilmatar would speak directly through her servants. Most often it is a diviner or prophetess who serves as the vessel; one such as Sister Jannir.” Melli and Batala both nodded their agreement.

“But what does it mean; to be golden hand?” Iyara beseeched, “and what of the times of tribulation to come; what are these tribulations and what is the time of their arrival? And what have I to do with them?” The questions tumbled out Iyara’s mouth one after the other and the other priestesses could only shrug.

“I am afraid we cannot divine the meaning of the words. Never has Ilmatar designated a golden hand,” Batala said. “That you are chosen, cannot be denied; but for what, we know not. The same is true for the tribulations spoken of.”

“There have been prophecies alluding to some dire grief that will befall the world,” Vela added. “Some are more millennia old. An inscription hinting at such was discovered in the town of Inbrin.” Iyara shook her head indicating that she did not recognize the name.

“Inbrin was a small mining town in the Northern Mountains near to the DwarvenHolt of Red Cliffs,” explained Melli. “Nearly a thousand years ago the entire populace of the village vanished. Many years later a small group of treasure hunters found an inscription on a hidden tablet.”

“What did the inscription say?” Iyara asked; afraid to do so, but afraid not to.

“It said,” Batala continued, “that the goddess herself appeared to the people of Inbrin. She told them of a great misery, a time of suffering and chaos that would come. It said that the villagers had gone away to prepare as they had been instructed by the goddess.”

“Where did they go?” Iyara asked in a small voice.

“No one knows,” Vela answered. “No trace was ever found.” Iyara’s shoulders sagged as though a great weight had been laid upon them.

“What am I to do?” she asked. “What of these?” she gestured to the silver petals on the table. “She said I was to fashion them into a chain but I know nought of metal work.”

“If you will permit me,” Vela said, “I will fashion the chain for you. My father was a jeweler and I have oft crafted tokens in the temple’s workrooms.”

“Why do this for me?” Iyara asked with a hint of suspicion in her tone. If Vela noticed she made no indication.

“For I have wronged you and called into question your faith.” Iyara shook her head but Vela raised a hand to forestall any objection. “Nay, child, I am not so vain that I will not admit fault. You struggled with your reliance on magecraft but I took it as a sign of weakness and I doubted your worthiness. I was wrong and I hope someday you will forgive me. For my part, it would amount to a small token of my regret to do this thing for you.” Iyara smiled.

“I do forgive you Vela for surely I gave you every reason to doubt and it would honor very much if you would craft the chain of petals.” She reached down and picked up the bowl and handed it Vela who returned the smile and nodded.

“Well that is one matter settled,” Melli said with a broad smile. “What next?” She looked at the other priestesses.

“What’s next is rest,” commanded Batala. “It has been an eventful day and Iyara has much to consider.”

“I do not even know where to begin,” Iyara said; her smile faltering.

“Not to worry, sister, there is still time I am certain,” the Reverend Mother said. “After some rest and quiet thought, the path will be clearer. Now off with you all.” Having been dismissed the three priestesses left the Reverend Mother and retired to their own cells for the night.

 

The following morn Iyara broke her fast with Catala, Melli, Kiara and Tessa in the dining hall. The simple fare of hearty porridge with honey, fresh fruit and tea was welcome for in all confusion of the night before Iyara had eaten and had awakened famished.

“Everyone in the temple is talking of the consecration rite yestereve,” Catala said around a mouthful of apple.

“What will you do now, Sister Iyara,” asked the elven priestess.

“I am uncertain, Kiara,” replied Iyara. “As you heard, there was little direction given me.” Kiara nodded.

“Such is the way when the divine deign to speak directly,” Kiara said. Melli raised an eyebrow at the priestess now bedecked in the red leathers of the Sisters of Arms.

“Have you much experience with such?” the Halfling priestess asked. Kiara shrugged.

“Such things are not unknown among the Shaern. There are a fair number of seers among my people and oft their visions and redes are a mystery. Betimes, it seems to me, they might be better off left unspoken.”

“You may have the right of it,” Iyara said, “but the words were spoken and I needs must make some sense of it.” She finished off the remains of her tea and picked up her bowl and cup. She rose and said, “I think I will visit Jannir and see how she fares this morn.”

“I’ll go with you, Iyara and take up some tea,” Iyara placed her bowl and cup on a table near the kitchen door and waited while Catala secured a small pot of tea and clean cup.

 

The arrived at Jannir’s cell and found the priestess awake and in good health although a little pale. Her eyes were traced with red and dark smudges colored the folds underneath.

“Catala, Iyara, how nice of you to visit,” said the elder priestess where she lay propped up on pillows on her bed.

“We’ve brought you some tea,” Catala said and set the small tray on a side table. She filled the cup and handed it to Jannir.

“How thoughtful,” said Jannir, “Thank you,” she said as she took the cup and sipped.

“Oh, Jannir, I am so sorry. I do hope you’ve suffered no ill effect,” Iyara said as she came to the side of the bed. Jannir’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Sorry?” she said in surprise. “Do not be sorry, child. It was a singular honor I was given to act as a conduit for the goddess. Few have experienced the blessing of such intimate commune with her.” Iyara nodded.

“My heart is lightened then,” Iyara said. “One less burden I shall bear.”

“What troubles you, sister,” Jannir asked. “Ilmatar has chosen you from among countless servants.”

“Oh, it is not the choosing that troubles me, Jannir,” Iyara explained, “It is, instead, the lack of direction. I know not what path to follow. I know not what to do now.” Jannir nodded her head; her silver hair was unbound and lay across the pillow.

“In understand,” said Jannir. “Sit down �" you too Catala �" and hear me.” Iyara and Catala pulled up to plain wood chairs to Jinnar’s bedside.

“This is the way of it,” Jannir began, “When the goddess was with me, I seemed to be apart from myself. I could see and hear but my voice and body were not my own. I heard the words Ilmatar spoke but too, I saw visions play out before my eyes o’ertop of the scene within the chapel.

I saw you traveling long roads in the company of a young man. Too, I saw, repeatedly, a dark-skinned priestess who I did not recognize. I saw then an ebon hand and felt as though a significant amount of time had passed between this and the former vision. The ebon hand commanded a mass of writhing shadow that seemed to creep across the lands plunging all into a deep darkness, and masses of voices crying out in despair did I hear from within the shadow. Then a golden hand blocked the path of the ebon hand, and though the shadow diminished somewhat, the golden hand did prevent its progress.”

“What does it mean?” asked Iyara and Catala at the same time.

“Much is unclear, in the form of symbols and metaphor,” answered Jannir. “But this I do believe; the first vision seems clear to me. I believe, Iyara, that you should undertake a pilgrimage.”

“A pilgrimage?” Iyara asked. Jannir nodded affirmation.

“There are many places that are sacred to the goddess. I would suggest you visit them. The journey may take a year or more, but perhaps along the way, your future path will become clear.”

“What of the young male companion?” Catala asked but Jannir shook her head.

“I did not see him clearly. Too, I cannot say what part he plays or at what point he will join you,” she explained to Iyara. “But that you will meet him I have no doubt.”

The room was silent for many minutes as Iyara considered Jannir’s words. Finally she nodded and a smile played across her lips and the lines of worry that had lined her brow since the previous night were erased.

“I believe you have the right of it, sister,” she said to Jannir. “As I consider it, the feeling of confusion diminishes. I think it a sign that this is course to take. Thank you.” Jannir waved a dismissive hand.

“Thank me not, thank the goddess instead,” the elder priestess said with heavy lids. Catala stood up and pushed her chair back to the corner.

“I think Jannir needs her rest,” she said and Jannir nodded.

“Yes, though a blessing, the communion required a great deal of energy,” Jannir added.

“We shall leave you then,” Iyara said bending low to kiss Jannir’s forehead. “Rest well, sister. I thank Ilmatar for you.” Jannir smiled and Iyara and Catala left the room.

 

As Iyara and Catala walked through the temple halls Catala turned to her friend.

“Where will you go?” she asked.

“I shall consult Melli to see what would places I should visit on my pilgrimage, but the first place I will go is to Korrie,” Iyara answered.

“Korrie?” Catala asked in surprise and saw Iyara’s face take on a firm determination.

“Even after his promise to Hanna, he has not sent a single letter. I am worried; and just a little angry,” Iyara answered. Catala nodded and her lips set into a firm line.

“I shall go with you,” she stated.

“But why Catala?” Iyara asked.

“I have traveled little in my life and would do so now. I would also set eyes on the wondrous Chevranta that Shalhanna has oft spoken of so eloquently,” Catala answered and then her voice softened. “Too, I am more than a little worried about brother as well.”

“Ah,” was the only reply Iyara gave and Catala dropped her gaze as crimson flushed her cheeks.