Riveda, who had ruled over the Order of Grey Robe mages in the Ancient Land; Riveda, who had proved unable to resist the temptations of forbidden magic and had been executed for sorcery.
‘Even Riveda did good as well as evil,’ Micail said softly, taking her hand. ‘His soul is in the keeping of the Lords of Fate, and through many lifetimes he will work out his penance. But his writings on the treatment of sickness have saved many. You must not let his memory haunt you, beloved. Here he is remembered as a healer.’
A dark-eyed’ youth arrived with a platter of flat cakes and little crisply fried fishes served with goat cheese and cut herbs. His eyes widened a little as he took in Tiriki’s blue eyes and fair hair, her only legacy from Riveda, who had originally come not from the Ancient Land, but from the little-known northern kingdom of Zaiadan.
‘We must try not to be afraid,’ Micail said, when the servant had gone. ‘There are many prophecies other than Rajasta’s that speak of the Time of Ending. If it has come, we will be at great risk, but the foreshadowings have never suggested that we are wholly doomed. Indeed, Rajasta’s vision has assured us that you and I will found a new Temple in a new land! I am convinced that there is a Destiny that will preserve us. We must only find its thread.’
Tiriki nodded, and took the hand he held out to her. But all this bright and beautiful life that surrounds us must pass away before the prophecy can be fulfilled.
But for now, the day was fair, and the aromas rising from her plate offered a pleasant distraction from whatever fate might have in store. Willing herself to think only of the moment, and of Micail, Tiriki sought for a more neutral subject.
‘Did you know that Elara is a fine archer?’
Micail raised an eyebrow. ‘That seems an odd amusement for a healer – she’s apprenticed to Liala, is she not?’
‘Yes, she is, but you know that a healer’s work requires both precision and nerve. Elara has become something of a leader among the acolytes.’
‘I would have expected the Alkonan girl – your acolyte Damisa – to take that role,’ he replied. ‘Isn’t she the oldest? And she’s some relation to Tjalan, I believe. That family does like to take charge.’ He grinned, and Tiriki remembered that he had spent several summers with the Prince of Alkonath.
‘Perhaps she is a little too aware of her royal background. In any case, she was the last of them to arrive here, and I think she’s finding it hard to fit in.’
‘If that is the hardest thing she has to deal with she may count herself fortunate!’ Micail downed the last of his wine and got to his feet.
Tiriki sighed, but indeed, it was time for them to go.
When the innkeeper realized that the couple who had been occupying the best table on his terrace for so very long were the prince and his lady, he tried to refuse payment, but Micail insisted on impressing his signet on a bit of clay.
‘Present that at the palace and my servants will give you what I owe—’
‘You are too kind,’ Tiriki jested softly, as they were at last permitted to leave the taverna. ‘The man plainly felt honored by a visit from the prince and wished to make you a gift in return. Why did you not allow it?’
‘Think of it as an affirmation,’ Micail smiled, a little grimly. ‘That bit of clay represents my belief that someone will be here tomorrow. And if, as you say, he would prefer the honor, well, there is nothing to force him to redeem the debt. Memory fades. But he has my seal for a keepsake—’
Slowly, they walked back to the palace, speaking of ordinary things, but Tiriki could not help recalling how the screams of the seeress had echoed from the crypt.
When Damisa returned to the House of the Falling Leaves, the other acolytes were just finishing a lesson. Elara of Ahtarrath was the first to see her come in. Elara, dark-haired and buxom, was a native of this island, and it had fallen to her to make the newcomers from the other Sea Kingdoms welcome as they arrived.
On each island, the temples trained priests and priestesses. But from among the most talented young people in each generation, twelve were chosen to learn the greater Mysteries. Some would one day return to their own islands as senior clergy, while others explored specialties such as healing or astrology. From the Twelve came the adepts, who served all Atlantis as Vested Guardians in the Temple of Light.
The house was a low, sprawling structure of oddly aligned corridors and oversize suites, rumored to have been built a century or more ago for a foreign dignitary. The acolytes often amused themselves with suggesting other explanations for the stone mermaids in the weathered fountain in the central courtyard. Whatever its origins, until quite recently the strange old villa had served as a dormitory for unmarried priests, pilgrims, and refugees. Now it was the House of the Twelve.
Some of the acolytes welcomed Elara’s help while others resisted her, but Damisa, who was a cousin of the prince of Alkonath, was usually the most self-sufficient of them all. Right now, thought Elara, she looked terrible.
‘Damisa? What has happened to you? Are you ill?’ She flinched as the other girl turned to her with a blind stare. ‘Did something happen at the ceremony?’ Elara took a firm grip on Damisa’s elbow and made her sit down by the fountain. She turned to get the attention of one of the others. ‘Lanath, go get her some water!’ Elara said in a low voice as all the acolytes surrounded them. Elara sat down, pushing back the black curls that kept falling into her eyes. ‘Be quiet, all of you!’ she glared until they moved back. ‘Let her breathe!’
She knew that Damisa had been called to attend Lady Tiriki early that morning, and she had envied her. Elara’s role as chela to the Blue Robe priestess Liala in the Temple of Ni-Terat was a pleasant enough assignment, but hardly glamorous. The acolytes had been told that their apprenticeships were determined by the placement of their stars and the will of the gods. It made sense that Elara’s betrothed, Lanath, was assigned to the Temple astrologer because he had a good head for figures, but Elara had always suspected that Damisa’s royal connections had got her the place with Tiriki, who was not only a priestess but Princess of Ahtarrath, after all. But she did not envy Damisa now.
‘Tell us, Damisa,’ she murmured as the other girl drank. ‘Was someone hurt? Has something gone wrong?’
‘Wrong!’ Damisa closed her eyes for a moment, then straightened and looked around the circle. ‘Haven’t you heard the rumors that have been going around the city?’
‘Of course we have. But where were you?’ asked little Iriel.
‘At an equinox ritual, attending my lady,’ Damisa replied.
‘Those rituals are usually held in the Great Temple of Manoah,’ observed Elis, who was also a native of the city. ‘It wouldn’t take you this long to get back from there!’
‘We weren’t at the Temple of Light,’ Damisa said tightly. ‘We went to another place, a sanctuary built into the cliffs at the eastern edge of the city. The portico looks ordinary enough, but the actual Temple is deep underground. Or at least I suppose so. I was told to wait in the alcove at the head of the passage.’
‘Banur’s bones!’ Elara exclaimed, ‘That’s the Temple of – I don’t know what it is – no one ever goes there!’
‘I don’t know what it is, either,’
