"My part is done,” T'lin repeated, but he settled back in his chair to listen.
Four sets of eyes were waiting, five counting the dragon's, although he was having trouble because he kept steaming up the window. Two sets of blue, two green, one black...
Eleal swallowed a yawn. She decided she must tell the tale with the majesty it deserved, although it needed Piol Poet to do it justice. She would have to stick to prose. She threw off the blankets and sat up like the Mother on the Rainbow Throne in The Judgment of Apharos.
"Are you feeling all right, dear?” Embiliina asked anxiously.
"Quite all right, thank you. Dost any of you mort ... do any of you know what the Filoby Testament is?"
T'lin and Kollwin said, “Yes,” as Gim shook his head.
"Book of prophecies,” his father explained. “About eighty years ago some priestess over in Suss went out of her mind and began spouting prophecies. The others wrote them down. Her family had it printed up as memorial. What about it?"
T'lin uttered his dragon snort. Eleal knew she could never guess what he was thinking, and yet somehow she felt sure that he was surprised by this mention of the Testament. He seemed displeased, and certainly wary.
"Most prophecy is so thin you could drink it,” he growled. “Quite a lot of the Filoby stuff turned out to be hard fact—so I've heard. What about it?"
"It is prophesied therein,” Eleal declared mysteriously, “that should I happenstance attend the festival of Tion in Suss this year, then the world may be changed."
There was a thoughtful silence. The range crackled. Starlight's green eyes blinked at the window.
"Does she often behave like this?” Gim asked.
"No,” T'lin said, staring hard. “She's putting on airs, but she's telling the truth as she knows it. Carry on, Avatar of Astina."
"The oracle proclaimed me a child of Ken'th."
"Yecch!” T'lin's red beard twisted in an expression of disgust.
"It's not my fault!” Eleal protested,
"No. Nor your mother's either. Can you confirm that, Kollwin Sculptor?"
"I was told that the oracle implied it. The Lady is always enraged when her lord philanders with mortals."
Embiliina said, “Oh dear!” and patted Eleal's hand. “It doesn't matter, dear."
Eleal recalled Ambria in The Judgment of Apharos again. “Peradventure, it may. Both the Lady and the Man decreed that I must not be allowed to fulfill the prophecy."
"Eltiana yes,” T'lin said. “How do you know about Karzon?"
Eleal drew a deep breath.
"A reaper told me."
Gim sniggered. He looked at his father ... at the dragon trader ... at his mother. His eyes widened.
"Go on,” T'lin said, his eyes cold marble.
Eleal told the story carefully, leaving out Dolm's name. She described him only as “a man I know."
It was a very satisfying performance. When she had finished, Embiliina seemed ready to weep, Gim's eyes were as big as Starlight's, and the two men were staring hard at each other. Dragontrader chewed at his copper mustache. Sculptor had clasped his great hands and was cracking knuckles.
"By the four moons!” T'lin growled. “Your god is the Joker!"
"He is,” Kollwin said stubbornly, “but he is my god. We are supposed to get her to the festival, I think."
"That would be my interpretation."
Eleal protested. “I'm not sure I want—"
"You have no choice, girl!"
"Apparently not,” the dragon trader agreed.
"Is it possible?"
T'lin did not answer that. He clawed at his beard with one hand, staring morosely at the range. “We seem to have been sucked into a serious squabble in the Pentatheon! I did not tell you of my first visitor—a doddering old crone trailing an unsheathed sword."
The others waited in silence. Embiliina moved her lips in prayer.
"A blue nun, of course,” T'lin continued. “Of all the lunatic regiments of fanatics that harass honest workingmen ... It was barely dawn and I had a hangover. I listened with a patience and politeness that will assuredly let my soul twinkle in the heavens for all Eternity. Then I sent her away!” He clenched a red-hairy fist. “I thought she was senile. I should have known better, I suppose."
Kollwin raised heavy black brows, pondering in his deliberate fashion. “She came before the oracle spoke?"
"Before the holy hag could have scampered down there from the temple, at any rate. She babbled about Eleal Singer being in trouble. I pretended I did not know who she was talking about. She smiled as if I was an idiot child, then tottered away, saying she would return. I told my men I would flatten every one of them if she ever got near me again."
"Who are these blue nuns?” Gim asked, worried.
"Followers of the goddess of repentance,” said his father. “A strange order, rarely seen in these parts. Harmless pests."
T'lin shook his head. “But the stories ... When Padsdon Dictator ruled in Lappin—him they called the Cruel—one day he was haranguing the citizens from a balcony and a sister in the crowd pointed her sword up at him and began calling on him to repent. Padsdon's guards could not reach her, and he either could not or would not depart. Before she had finished, he leaped from the balcony and died!"
Kollwin shrugged dismissively. “You believe that?"
"I do,” T'lin said with a scowl. “My father was there."
In the ensuing silence, the range uttered a few thoughtful clicking sounds.
"So the Maiden is on Eleal's side—the Youth's side,” Embiliina Sculptor said softly, blue eyes filled with concern now. “What of the Source? Have we any word of the All-Knowing?"
Her husband shook his head. “If the Light has judged, the others would not be still at odds."
"That is obvious!” Eleal declared. “Tragedies always end with the Parent deciding the issue. It's not time for Visek yet."
Gim grinned, but no one argued.
"You must take the girl to Sussland, T'lin Dragontrader,” the sculptor said heavily.
The big man groaned. “Why me?"
"Who else? The priests will be scouring the city already. The Lady...” Kollwin shrugged, looking thoughtfully at his son. “It is possible?"
"Normally I would say it was,” T'lin growled. “Normally I would say I could run over to Filoby and be back before dark. But Susswall is treacherous at the best of times. How will it be now, with the Lady of Snows enraged and bent to stop us? May colic rot my guts! And when I arrive I may find armies of reapers waiting for me!"
Eleal had already thought of that complication—how could she return to the troupe when Dolm was there?
Gim was wilting under his father's stare.
The sculptor cracked his knuckles again. “I shouldn't ask this. Don't answer if you don't want—"
Gim relaxed and smirked. “No I didn't."
"Didn't do what?” his mother demanded.
Kollwin laughed and clapped his son's knee. “When he took his vows last night ... the night before last I suppose it is now ... When he prayed to Tion, he was going to ask to go to the festival. Right, lad?"
Gim nodded wistfully, looking much more like a child than a romantic hero of damsel-rescuing prowess. “I thought about it, but you asked me not to. So I didn't."
Now approval shone in his father's smile. “I noticed you didn't actually promise! I was sure you wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity. I'm proud that you did. But the holy one knew how much you want to go. He has overruled us."
Gim's grin returned instantly. “You mean I get to go?"
"You have to go, son! You were the one who profaned the Lady's temple. Her priests will blunt their knives on your hide if they catch you. It is your reward, I suppose. You will do this for us, Dragontrader?"