“I…could not help it,” Trin mumbled. “I could not…could not stop the pleasure I felt when…when he was with me.” She looked up at the statue which seemed to scowl at her in anger. “Which is why I ask for forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness cannot be had simply for the asking.” Betina’s beady black eyes narrowed. “It must be earned with sacrifice. Only through pain and mortification of your body and spirit can purification be achieved.”
“I understand,” Trin said humbly. “I will do whatever is necessary.”
“Prove it.” The priestess pulled something long and silver out of her flowing robes and handed it to Trin.
Trin looked down at the pair of heavy, blunt sheers that lay in her palm and then back up again at the priestess.
“What—?”
“Cut it off.” Betina motioned to her hair. “Cut it off as a sign of your humility and your devotion to the Goddess.”
“All…all right.” Trin had always considered her hair one of her best features but she lifted the heavy sheers without hesitation and began to cut. She couldn’t see what she was doing so she knew she must be making a mess of it. But that didn’t matter now—all that mattered was making up for what she had done.
I deserve it, she told herself as long strands of her thick black hair drifted down around her bare feet. I have to pay for what I did and this is the only way.
Her head felt lighter and the cool breeze sweeping through the echoing worship chamber chilled the back of her neck when she was finished and handed the sheers back. She hoped that standing naked before the Goddess and cutting her hair might be all she had to do, but she was wrong.
The ritual was just getting started.
After her hair was cut, Betina brought out a stone chalice, so large and heavy she had to hold with both hands. Strange markings were carved around the outside and the inside of it was stained an ominous reddish-brown.
“What…what is that for?” Trin had asked hesitantly.
“Now you must bleed for your sins,” the priestess told her. “Bleed the evil from your body and give your blood to show your remorse.” She withdrew a long, curving ceremonial dagger with a jeweled handle and pressed it to the inside of Trin’s elbow.
Trin stifled a gasp as the blade bit deep and watched as her blood overflowed and poured in ruby rivulets down her arm and into the stone goblet. After a while, she began to get dizzy and wondered how much blood she had to give to atone for her sins. She felt weak and shaky when the deep cup was finally filled and one of the lesser priestesses bandaged her arm.
But she still wasn’t done.
“Bring me the hrakka,” Betina demanded. One of the other priestesses disappeared for a moment. When she returned, she held a long handled instrument with four sharp, parallel claws curving from its end.
“What…what are you going to do with that?” Trin asked, eyeing the needle sharp claws in dismay.
“As you have allowed defilement and impurity to enter into you, so you must be marked on the outside to show your evil,” the priestess intoned. As Trin tried not to flinch, she dragged the sharp claws down her arms and legs, over the tops of her breasts, her belly and buttocks—even her cheeks—scoring and scratching every inch of Trin’s body with long, bloody welts that stung and ached fiercely.
Trin tried not to cry out but the pain was intense. She shifted uneasily and the priestess slapped her hard across the cheek.
“Hold still!”
“I’m trying,” Trin whispered through gritted teeth. “The pain…”
“The hrakka’s claws are treated with an acidic agent to increase pain and suffering.” She gave Trin a cruel smile. “They will leave permanent marks so that all who see you will know what you have done.”
“What?” Trin looked at her wildly. “But my mother said, she told me that only you and she would know what…what I did!”
“That was before you admitted to enjoying your defilement,” the priestess snarled. “Such disgusting sin cannot go unpunished. Now everyone who looks at you will know that you allowed yourself to be defiled by a male. The marks of the hrakka will tell them!”
Trin wanted to cry but she refused, raising her chin instead. Maybe the priestess was right—maybe she did deserve to have everyone know what she had done—to be marked permanently for her sins and her shame. And yet…had it really been so bad? She couldn’t help remembering the feel of Thrace’s strong arms around her, the way he had whispered her name and said that he loved her. They hadn’t been hurting anyone—was what they had done really so awful?
I committed sacrilege against the Goddess, she reminded herself sternly. I have to pay the price.
But even so, the next step of the ritual was almost more than she could bear.
Betina led her out of the back of the temple, into the gardens—a vast space covered in withered purple grass and surrounded on all sides by high, gray walls.
There, stamping and snorting, were two familiar figures. Trin’s heart sank as she saw one of the lesser priestesses holding the bridles of her beloved pets, Swift and Silk. When they saw her, they tossed their heads and Swift let out a ringing neigh. He pulled free of the priestess holding him and cantered over to Trin.
“Oh, Swift…” Trin put her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his warm hide, drawing comfort from him as she had so often growing up. “Oh my good boy…” He snorted and nuzzled her hair, as if to ask what was wrong and Trin pressed close to him, breathing in the warm scent of horse hair and sweet hay and wishing with all her might that they were all back in her home pasture without a care in the world.
“That’s enough of your sickening display,” Betina snapped. She motioned at the lesser priestess. “You—come and pull this one back to stand by the other.”
Swift didn’t want to go but Trin patted and stroked him and spoke in a low, soothing voice, telling him to go back, that everything would be all right. But she was horribly afraid she was lying.
“Why have you brought my pets?” she asked in a low voice as Swift was led back to stand by Silk. Her stomach was twisted into knots and part of her already knew the answer.
“To show how sorry you are, you must sacrifice something you love,” the high priestess said coldly. “If the male who defiled you was here, we would demand you sacrifice his pain to the Goddess. As it is, the death of these two alien creatures will have to do.”
“They’re horses from Earth and I’ve had them since I was twelve cycles old,” Trin protested. “I raised them from foals. They’re old but still healthy—you can’t kill them—you can’t.”
“Why, because you love them?” Betina sneered at her. “If only you’d loved your purity as much they might have been spared. But I am afraid they must be given to the Goddess as a sign of your contrition.” She shoved a dagger into Trin’s hand—the same one she’d used to slice her arm for the blood sacrifice earlier. “Now do it—cut their throats!”
“No.” Trin shook her head violently and backed away, letting the dagger drop from nerveless fingers. “No, you can’t make me! I can’t…I won’t.”
Betina shook her head, the rubies in her black headdress winking like drops of blood in the pale sunlight.
“Weak and foolish female! Very well then, I will.”
Before Trin could stop her, she pulled a small but lethal heat-beam from the folds of her cloak and aimed it right between Silk’s eyes.
“No!” Trin jumped to stop her but she was suddenly surrounded by the lesser priestesses, all wearing their hooded gray robes. There was a zzap sound and a beam of concentrated heat and light pierced the mare’s skull, cooking her brain instantly. Silk staggered and threw up her head with a sound that was more scream than neigh…then she stumbled and slowly fell to her knees. Her warm brown eyes were suddenly lifeless as they rolled up in her head and she collapsed onto her side,
“Silk! No!” Trin broke free and ran to her but there was nothing she could do. Silk’s eyes were already glazing and there was a neat black hole burned just below the forelock Trin had loved to stroke.