Men without women ... The range was crackling cheerfully, gushing smoke. Eleal pulled herself away from awful thoughts of reapers. She stood up, marched across, and flicked a lever.
"It helps to open the flue first!"
Old Piol scratched at the silver stubble on his jowl. He smiled and started to say something; it became an attack of coughing.
Eyes stinging, Eleal moved away from the range. “We must eat,” she said in her best goddess voice, because that was what Ambria would say. “I don't feel like it either,” she told the disgusted expression all around, “but we should. The markets will close soon."
"She's right,” Golfren said, rising. “You will be our keeper tonight, Eleal. I'll come with you."
"I'll get my coat..."
Boots thumped on the step outside. Heads turned.
The door flew open, swirling snow and smoke and cold air. Dolm Actor swept in with a basket on his arm. He slammed the door and glanced around with an inquiring grin.
Eleal looked down quickly at the greasy flagstones, unable to meet his eyes. Invoking Zath! Self-mutilation! Black gown in pack! Reaper! She scurried back to her seat by the table and hunched herself very small, trying to hide her shaking.
Dolm's resonant voice rang out, reverberating in the big room. “Well, you're a glum lot! Nobody thought about food, I suppose?"
K'linpor straightened up, soft face flushing. “Where have you been?"
There was a momentary silence. Eleal did not glance up, frightened that Dolm might be watching her.
"Me? I went back to the temple."
Golfren roared, “What?” and stepped backward, knocking over his stool with a crash.
"I didn't see any of our ladies there, if that's what's worrying you,” Dolm said soothingly. He stepped to the table beside Eleal and laid his basket on it. He was so close that she could smell the wet leather of his coat.
"I did what we should have all done ... except Klip Trumpeter maybe. Yet, why not him, too? He's a staunch young man now. I dropped some of my own hard-earned silver in the bowl, and I made sacrifice to the Lady."
Liar! Eleal thought. Liar! Liar!
Trong bellowed, “No!” in a voice that seemed to shake the house. His craggy features flamed red.
"Yes,” Dolm said calmly. “I saw it as my duty. I chose the oldest, ugliest woman I could find. She was immensely grateful."
"That is utterly foul!” Golfren Piper yelled.
"It was a holy ritual! Do you criticize the goddess?"
Silence. Eleal stole a glance at Golfren. He was as red as Trong—redder even, because his face was fair-skinned and clean-shaven. His knuckles were white. She wondered if there was about to be a fight.
Yes, she thought, it was foul. She thought of Dolm's long, hairy limbs and body, and she shivered. Goddess or not, it was foul to make a woman submit to that against her will.
"Well?” Dolm Actor inquired.
Piper growled, “No."
"Wise! The woman in question had been assigned a penance. I did not ask for what, naturally.” Dolm was always a cheerful, almost boisterous person, but now he sounded exuberant, excited. Eleal wondered if he had been drinking, but she could not smell wine on him, only the wet leather.
Dolm laughed. “She had been waiting there every day for two fortnights, she told me. Of course she was grateful! I trust the Lady approved. It wasn't my most enjoyable experience, I admit, but I did my duty in a spirit of proper humility, with prayer."
Golfren muttered an obscenity and turned his back.
"I find I cannot disapprove under the circumstances,” Trong Impresario declaimed with obvious reluctance.
"Good!"
Eleal was still shaking, hoping no one would notice, too terrified to move, still staring at the disgustingly dirty floor. Dolm was lying! No matter how brief the remainder of his horrible ritual had been, there had not been time for him to recover and go to the temple and then visit the markets and come back here. He had not been running, or he would be puffing. Running? Lying with a woman? After losing so much blood? He had been soaked in blood while she watched, and more blood still pumping out of him.
"Furthermore,” Dolm said, “we all..."
Alerted by the silence, Eleal glanced up.
He had sensed something wrong. He raised his head as if sniffing. He looked slowly around the big room, studying each face in turn. Finally he dropped his eyes to hers.
Then he smiled, and the recognition in his dark eyes was obvious—fond reproof. He knew! He knew she knew. She was the one.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Dolm reached down with his left hand to scratch his right, which rested on the handle of the basket beside her. His sleeve slid back. She could see his bony, hairy wrist. There was no mark on it, no scar, no bandage ... No bloodstains, even!
She looked up again at his face.
No blood on it, no blood in his hair—and the hair combed over his bald pate was lank, showing no sign that it had been recently washed.
He was still smiling, like a snow cat.
"This must have been a difficult day for you, child!” he said softly. “Are you feeling all right?"
She started to turn her head away and his hand shot out to grasp her chin. The touch of a reaper!
Eleal screamed and leaped away from him. She hurtled across the room and threw herself against Golfren Piper, hugging him fiercely. She needed Ambria, but he would have to do. Everyone seemed to shout, “What?” at the same moment.
Golfren put his arms around her and lifted her bodily, as if she were a child. He muttered soothing noises. “Yes, she's had a very hard day!” he said.
The door flew open with a crash and Ambria Impresario made an Entrance.
15
AMBRIA WAS AN IMPOSING WOMAN ON THE MOST TRIVIAL occasion. She could peel a tuber dramatically or ladle gruel with majesty. These days the heavy breasts sagged and the hair was dyed, but no more convincing goddess had ever trod the boards, and she blazed with authority in that kitchen doorway. Taller than most men, deep-voiced, big-boned, she had been known to silence a hall of drunken miners with a single gesture. Now one arm was extended shoulder high from hurling open the door; her hood was back, letting her dark hair flow to her waist, framing aquiline features normally pale, ashen in her present distress. The snow-mottled cloak hung to her boots, making her seem taller than ever.
"We are all here.” Her voice rang through the vast room. “We are all unharmed, save a few bruises.” She swung aside in a swirl of leather to let the others enter.
The men cried out in joy. Uthiam Piper ran in, heading for Golfren, who dropped Eleal instantly. She caught a brief glimpse of a livid welt on Uthiam's cheek before it was hidden in an embrace.
Yama Actor ran to Dolm; Halma to K'linpor. Olimmiar stepped inside last, holding a rag over one eye. She stopped beside Ambria and stood with face lowered. Trong rose, moved one foot forward a pace, and spread his arms in welcome.
Ambria swung the door halfway closed and halted it there. “Hold!” Her deep voice boomed like a thunderclap, silencing everyone. “There is no need for us all to repeat the sordid details. I shall tell the tale.” Her compelling eyes raked the room in challenge. Everyone watched; no one spoke. The door remained half closed.
"We did as we were bidden.” The spectacular voice dropped to a lower register. “We offered ourselves in the service of the Lady. A man came to each of us—"
"Three,” Olimmiar said with a sob.
Ambria enveloped her in a powerful arm and pulled her close without looking down. “Each of us was accepted, then. Not one of the men was able to...” She drew a deep breath. “...complete the holy ritual. The goddess refused our sacrifice."