“If you say so,” said Kessligh, with a faint smile.
“I'm sorry about Kessligh,” Sasha told Father Berin as she helped him down the narrow stairs. “He's not always subtle.”
“He is a man who says what he means, and does what he says,” Berin replied. “The gods admire such a man, whether he follows them or not.”
Downstairs was filled with Velo relatives and neighbours, seated about the dining table or standing, while Mariesa and her daughter Frasesca served them with grapes, cheese and bread. Sasha knew grapes and cheese did not come cheaply to the Velos. But most of the relatives seemed unconcerned, talking loudly amongst themselves, mostly about the crowd outside. It occurred to Sasha that not everyone would view the coming of Verenthane's most holy artefact as a curse.
All rose as Father Berin entered and he blessed the household, and in particular the agitated Mariesa. The Velo boys, Valenti and Rasconi, were probably out preparing the boat for the afternoon trip. The boat stuck in Sasha's mind. A memory of Yulia seated by the mast on that last trip to the Cliff of the Dead, the sun across her face.
On an impulse Sasha took Father Berin's arm just as he was about to open the door. “Father,” she said quietly, “can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course, Sasha,” the priest replied in surprise. And added, as it occurred to him, “Would you like to speak in private?” Sasha nodded. Father Berin excused them both and walked to the rear door beneath the stairs. Some odd looks followed them, but animated conversation continued as before.
The rear door led to a dark little courtyard between neighbouring buildings. No one else moved in the lanes-Kessligh had posted Nasi-Keth guards at the ends, locals who knew other locals by name.
Father Berin looked at Sasha expectantly as she pulled the door closed behind her. Sasha took a deep breath. “I'm…I'm not very good at this,” she admitted. “I haven't seen a priest in…well, not since I was little.”
Father Berin nodded slowly. “But…you think of yourself as Goeren-yai. Do you not? I mean, that is what I'd heard and everyone…”
Sasha rolled her eyes. Everytime she had to make that a formal declaration, to a man of authority like Father Berin, it still felt like a risk. Or a dangerous blasphemy. “Yes, it's true,” she said shortly.
Father Berin folded his hands before him. “Then why do you need a priest?”
Sasha blinked at him. “Oh no, wait, wait…” she held up both hands. “I don't need a priest.” Father Berin just looked at her, mild and curious. “I mean, I do…” she stopped, took another breath and looked away down a lane, hands on hips. “Yulia Delin. She died.”
“I heard,” said the priest. “I knew her and her family only a little. I'm very sorry.”
“I killed her.”
Berin just looked at her. Waiting for her to amend the statement. Clearly he didn't believe her. Past the lump in her throat, she felt a surge of affection for the plump, limping priest. “She shouldn't have been there. I asked her specifically. I knew she lacked confidence. I knew she wasn't all that good, honestly. But I needed a partner to cover my meeting, and she was all that was available. She thought highly of me. I knew she'd agree, if I pushed. She shouldn't have been there, and now she's dead, and it's my fault.”
Father Berin sighed, and leaned on his cane. “I'm not certain I understand what you need a priest for.”
“I said I don't need a priest,” Sasha retorted.
Berin gave a small, helpless smile. “Then why am I here? Why not talk to someone else?”
“Yulia Delin is dead, Father!” Sasha snapped. “One of your flock, and this pagan holds herself responsible. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you…I don't know…don't you have something to say about that?”
“Sasha,” Father Berin said gently, “what do you want? I mean truly. You feel guilty, and that is good. You should feel guilty.” Sasha swallowed hard. “Not because you are to blame, but because it shows you have a good soul. Do you wish me to absolve you? I cannot do that-we each must live with our sins, Sasha. And besides, you declare you are Goeren-yai…that makes you answerable to your spirits, not to my gods. Of what use to you is absolution from me?”
“I don't want absolution!” Sasha insisted. “I didn't ask for it.”
“Then what do you want me to tell you?”
“I don't…I don't know.” She tilted her head and stared despairingly at the small slit of sky between the uneven brick walls overhead. Small windows looked down, old shutters faded, plaster crumbling. “I'm not used to this. Kessligh is. He's ordered thousands of men to their deaths.”
“Do you think he feels guilty?”
“No. Or…not guilty. Sad. But Kessligh, he's a fatalist. He thinks the world is a sad place. Maybe I'm…I don't know. Maybe I expect too much.”
“Or maybe he expects too little,” Father Berin countered. Sasha shrugged and wiped at the corner of her eye. “Perhaps you are frightened that this is the life you are born to. You were a princess by birth, Sasha, however revoked that title now. You were born to command. The gods willed it so, I believe.”
“Did they also will that I should reject them?”
Berin shrugged, helplessly. “Who can say? The good shepherd always welcomes the straying sheep back to the flock. Perhaps that shall be your fate too.”
“I wouldn't count on it.”
Berin smiled. “Trust me, I'm not. Fate is nothing to be taken for granted. Do not the Goeren-yai believe in the fates too? I know a little of the old Lenay ways, they are not so dissimilar to my own faith. But please don't tell the archbishop I said so.”
“I won't.” Sasha managed a reproachful smile. “You've tricked many Lenay pagans before with those words in the past.”
Berin snorted. “And a great many priests were put to the sword for saying so too loudly.”
“Shouldn't have been there in the first place,” said Sasha. “We never tried to convert you.”
“No, you only rode down from the mountains every few months to rape and slaughter entire villages. How you bunch of bloodthirsty ruffians manage to claim persecution with a straight face is beyond me.”
Sasha saw movement across the courtyard to her left and half spun…but it was Rhillian, moving warily, with a serrin at her side whom Sasha did not recognise. Father Berin looked across in surprise. Rhillian straightened and considered them curiously.
“Have I come too late to witness the conversion?” she asked mischievously.
“Who let you in?” Sasha retorted, but she was smiling.
“I promised the young man guarding the lane a night of wild debauchery,” said Rhillian, all green-eyed amusement beneath the brim of her hat. Eyeing Father Berin, hoping to shock him. “And I let him feel my thigh. Astonishing, isn't it? A woman's thigh, such a strange and unsighted thing, subject of so many rumours.”
“No, no, Lady Rhillian,” said Father Berin, jabbing his cane at her, “it's what lies between the lady's thighs that makes for the rumours.”
Rhillian gave a little shake as she approached, like a cat with a brief chill. “Brrr. Such excitement! So many to be educated, but so little time.” She gave Sasha a hug. Sasha returned it, hard. “I heard you were having adventures, nearly getting killed, making crazy escapes.”
“Just another day,” said Sasha.
“One observes. I'm so glad you're safe.” Rhillian gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Now, you two seemed to be having a religious moment, which this pagan, unbelieving serrin would surely not comprehend, so I'll go inside and leave you your privacy. Good day, Father, stay out of trouble.”
“Said the wolf to the lamb,” Father Berin said slyly. Rhillian flashed him a smile as she entered the house. “That girl is trouble,” said the priest, but the amusement remained. “I shall have to bathe twice tonight and beat myself with birch leaves.”