Remembered (3 page)

Mina stood still as the drover unlocked her manacle from the chain. Galia was relieved to see that she did not bite the man. But she didn’t look at Strayke. She couldn’t. She could all too easily imagine the look of hatred on his face. She hoped it was hatred, because if it wasn’t, it would be sorrow. Seeing grief and confusion on Strayke’s face would have pierced her in a way that she couldn’t take.

Mina stood beside her, stepping into a place that was meant for her.

“All right,” said the woman, all business. “It’s time for us to go.”

Galia must have let some of her fury at being forced to abandon Strayke show, because the woman smiled as cold as the northern gales.

“Do you want to stay here?” she said softly. “Do you want to get back in the chains?”

“No, Lady,” Galia muttered, because it was true.

The woman’s laugh was soft and strangely delighted. “How you will hate me before this is through. Count on it.”

As she led them out of the plaza, Mina looked back, but Galia wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

T
he palace was
the most beautiful building in Tenebris. It was incredible, like a giant wedding cake rising up five stories. The edges of each level were intricately scalloped, with delicate, pointed turrets, evenly spaced. Glass windows of all shapes and colors decorated the sides of each level. An occasional balcony jutted out, without any visible supports.

Their new owner and her wolf swept in as if they ruled there. It occurred to Galia only then, that she did. Galia gripped Mina’s hand, and was aware of many servants bustling about. Some glanced at them before quickly looking away.
Their owner hailed a tall and kind-faced woman dressed in a beautiful robe of lilac.

“The bigger girl needs to be settled in a room,” their owner said briskly. “Find some kind of work for the little, skinny one.”

“Yes, Oracle,” the tall woman said.

At the thought of being separated, Galia felt a protest rise up in her throat. For once, however, it was Mina who squeezed Galia’s hand. Mina’s face was game and almost craftily amused. She’d always been a bit of a wild girl, as apt to run in the woods as to do her weaving. Galia prayed that her friend would not run far. The people of Tenebris––their owners––were likely to be far less tolerant than the people of the village.

The tall woman looked Mina over, her gaze surprisingly gentle.

“Poor thing, you look half-starved. First we’ll feed you, and then we’ll find a place for you, how’s that?”

Mina looked as surprised by the kindness as Galia felt.

“Er, that would…that would be nice, Lady. Thank you.”

The woman smiled and Galia relaxed a little. Only then did she see the strange, furry creature that hovered near the woman’s feet. Except for its small size, Galia might have jumped back. If she hadn’t known better, she might have guessed it was a raccoon. Though it had the clever hands and a striped tail, it’s eyes were orange and the body thinner.

The woman must have noticed Galia’s stare.

“Plouton, my ring-tailed lemur,” she said. She snagged the arm of a passing boy. “Take her to the kitchen,” she said, pointing at Mina. “And tell the cook to feed her soup, bread and some chicken. Nothing too rich, mind. I’ll come down for her later.”

Mina was led off with nothing more than a glance over her shoulder at Galia. Now Galia was alone with the two women, who were eying her up and down.

“Well, she’s pretty,” the kind woman said.

“I didn’t buy her for her looks,” the Oracle said. “She’s got something to her, something quite strong.”

Galia frowned. She still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Well, Rhea, I’ll let you get to work,” the Oracle said. “I’ve work to do myself. Don’t let her into my sight until she at least looks like a priestess, yes?”

Rhea’s eyebrows raised. “Not an acolyte?”

“You heard me,” the Oracle said.

Rhea inclined her head. “Of course, Oracle.”

The woman––the Oracle––swept off with her wolf on her heels, and Rhea and her lemur turned to Galia.

“Did you just come off the block, then?”

Did she mean the auction block? “Yes, Lady,” Galia said.

Rhea nodded. “An end for some, a beginning for others.”

Panic gripped Galia’s chest. An end? What would happen to Strayke? What had she done to him?

Rhea nodded down one of the corridors.

“Come on, then. The Oracle wants you looking like a priestess. We’ll get you sorted.”

T
he first thing
that they did was bathe her. Galia would have said that she was clean after being manhandled by the drover. But that wasn’t good enough for the palace of Tenebris. There was an enormous copper tub, and as if by magic, a turn of a lever brought water gushing into it.

“Forced water through the pipes,” Rhea said, seeing the look on Galia’s face. “It keeps the floors warm too.”

Galia was plunged into water so hot that at first she thought that her skin would boil right off. Then, just when she had gotten used to it, two girls showed up with brushes and pumice stones. They were brisk but they were kind. They scrubbed every inch of her, removing every trace of dead dull skin with the rough stones and paring her fingernails and toenails down short with a pair of small razors. To Galia’s shock, they pulled out sharp knives as well. For a moment, she thought that they were going to kill her, but then they laughed.

“It takes a while, but you’ll like it,” one girl promised.

Galia sat in still wonder as they used the sharp knives to shave off every bit of her hair below her eyes. She whimpered when one girl urged her legs open, but the other girl thumped her companionably on the shoulder.

“It’s not bad, I promise. Want to see me?”

Galia shook her head shyly, but she did open her legs. They delicately and deftly shaved her, as though it was something they did all day. For all Galia knew, they did.

By the time she got out of the tub, she was feeling tired. She could have rolled over right on the floor and slept for a week. The two girls giggled at her drowsiness and dried her off briskly with soft cloths.

Rhea came back with a small leather envelope and a bottle in her hands. Her little lemur scampered along the ground, following her.

“Ah, good girls, right on time. All right, pretty one. We have just one more thing to do before you can be taken to the Oracle.”

Galia started to ask what it was when both girls seized her by the arms. Stretched between them and seated on the bench by the tub, she was immobilized. As Galia watched in terror, Rhea opened the jar, releasing a scent of almost impossibly strong alcohol. Then she removed a thick needle from the leather envelope. The last light of day glinted on the sharp tip.

Rhea moved quick as a snake. She seized one of Galia’s nipples, pinching it erect before driving the needle straight through the base of it. Galia shrieked in horror as much as in pain. What was happening? Tears coursed down her face, and her heart thudded inside her chest. A few drops of blood spattered her thigh. She almost missed it when Rhea pierced her other nipple. The pain was even worse for the second, making her tears flow even faster. Rhea ignored them. Instead, she reached into the envelope again.

This time, she withdrew two open gold rings. With the quick movements of long practice, she slid the rings through Galia’s piercings, closing them with a deft snap of her fingers.

“Oh, there we go. There, that’s pretty.”

Galia stared down at her breasts, gasping. The foreignness of metal through her tender nipples was shocking.

“Oh, poor little dear. It has been hard for you. That is the worst of it tonight, I promise, all right? Come here, sweetheart.”

Galia allowed herself to be gathered into Rhea’s embrace. The woman smelled of something sweet and flowery.

“Priestesses are wed to the Goddess,” Rhea said quietly. “The rings are the outward sign. Since you will never marry or bear children, you will have no need to suckle a newborn.”

Galia sobbed. The pain, the strangeness, and her sudden glimpse of the future were too much. Rhea’s arms were soft, gathering her close, and Galia wanted nothing more than to sink into her.

This is how they do it,
Galia realized. The thought was as clear and cold as the never-ending ice in the northern lakes.
They hurt you. Then they comfort you, and you remember that. You forget that they were the ones who hurt you in the first place. Remember this. This is what this place is like.

But Galia couldn’t help herself. She let herself collapse against the tall woman, crying hard. She had betrayed Strayke, and found herself a priestess in some frightening palace. She couldn’t be strong anymore. Rhea rocked her until she had cried herself out. Finally, when she was still, the older woman sat back.

“Once you’re dressed properly, I will take you to the Oracle.”

“Please, will you tell me what is happening? Will you tell me why I’m here?”

Rhea shook her head. “That is for the Oracle to say.”

The gown that she offered to Galia made the cotton she wore earlier seem like leather. This fabric was so thin and smooth that at first Galia thought it was some kind of water.

“Silk,” Rhea said. “The green does look lovely on you.” The dress clung to her curves and draped from her hips in soft folds to the ground. “Come. The Oracle is waiting.”

Galia followed behind Rhea and her lemur. Occasionally they passed by other men or women who wore robes like Rhea and the Oracle. Invariably they were accompanied by animals. Even in the north, Galia had heard tales of beings such as these.

“Rhea,” she said, as they passed a robed man with a falcon on his shoulder, “are you a magician?”

Rhea glanced over her shoulder, a slight smile on her face. “We call ourselves Wiccans. This is our coven.”

Finally they arrived at a large door with an eye carved into it. Rhea stepped forward briskly and knocked. “Oracle, it’s the new priestess to see you.”

“Send her in.”

Galia stepped into one of the finest rooms she had ever been in. It was not incredibly large, though one of the smaller homes in her village would have fit in it with room to spare. However, it was incredibly sumptuous. There was a banked hearth that ran along the length of the room. The tall glass windows let in the last of the light. The floor was covered with soft pelts.

The Oracle sat at a bench under the window, her wolf resting its head on her knee. Galia stepped cautiously into the room, aware that Rhea was closing the door behind her.

For a long moment, the Oracle looked her over silently. The woman’s eyes were the coldest that Galia had ever seen. Galia had been a slave for weeks, but she had never felt as naked as she did now.

“You are a likely looking one after all,” the Oracle said finally. “But it takes more than looks to survive in Tenebris. Do you know why I have purchased you?”

Galia shook her head. “No, Oracle.”

“This is the palace of Tenebris, the place where the Goddess of the city speaks. She holds us all in the palm of her hand, and as her most beloved servants, it is upon us to best please her. What do you know of the gods, girl?”

Galia shrugged cautiously. She wanted to please this woman. She knew that she very much needed to please this woman. She didn’t know whether she would do that best by being totally honest or by trying to protect herself and guessing at what the woman needed.

“We had gods in my homeland, but they did not live in houses as great as this,” she said.

The other woman sneered.

“You knew the old gods, then,” she said dismissively. “You knew the gods of blood and bone, the ones who hunted the forests and ruled over nothing greater than the streams and rivers where they were birthed. Compared to the Goddess of Tenebris, they were hardly gods at all.”

“They were enough for us.”

The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her defiance hung in the air between them.

The Oracle laughed. The sound was surprising. It was rich and warm, completely at odds with the cold woman who made it. She was still laughing when she got up. She crossed the room to Galia, and slapped her across the face.

The force of it turned Galia’s head, the pain sharp and shocking. Galia realized distantly that it was only by some kind of miracle that her jaw hadn’t broken. She did, however, taste blood.

“Remember that pain when you next speak to the Oracle of the Great Goddess,” the Oracle said. “That is the first blow you have from me, and if you persist on being stubborn and intractable, it will be far from the last. I can have you strung up on the wall and beaten until blood runs down.”

“Yes, Oracle,” Galia said, her voice remote.

The blow should have made her afraid, but for some reason, it did the opposite.

She can strike me. She can have me beaten until my blood runs. But that is all she can do. All she has is my body. All she will ever have is my body.

“Your gods were nothing compared to our great Goddess. You will learn that soon enough. You have the spark within you. I sensed it just as my own mistress sensed it in me. In time, the people will fear you, just as they fear me.”

Galia stared, aware that her mouth was hanging open. The Oracle smiled at her.

“The wheel spins. We stay on top or are brought down low. Let that be your first lesson.”

“Yes, Oracle.”

The Oracle examined her closely for a moment.

“Go now. Rhea will return you to your quarters. At dawn, you will come to me and we will begin our work in earnest.”

“Yes, Oracle.”

Galia could feel the Oracle’s eyes boring into her from behind. As she exited and the door closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Rhea’s eyes drifted to her swollen lip, but the tall woman said nothing. Instead they took a different route to the one they’d taken before. In only a few turns, Galia was lost. But finally Rhea turned a final corner, opened a door, and stood aside.

The room Galia entered was less sumptuous than the Oracle’s, but only barely. The bed took up most of the space, and she could see that it was a beautiful, carved frame, the bottom made of ropes that were woven into an intricate pattern to support the mattress. The walls were hung with lengths of orange silk brocade. On a sideboard were silver platters of fruit, roast chicken, and bread. There was a beautiful white pelt that warmed the center of the room, and across the far wall was a wide window that ran from edge to edge. When Galia crept up to it, she could see the lights of Tenebris blinking into existence as darkness fell.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered in awe.

“It is yours,” Rhea said. “More food and washing water will be brought to you in the morning, but you can sleep until then.” Then Rhea left.

As the door closed, Galia felt an unfamiliar pang of panic. She knew the fear of being hurt or killed. She knew the fear of pain, hunger and weariness. But she had never before been alone. In the small huts of the village or even the hold of the ship, there was not enough room to be alone. She realized she was trembling. She told herself she was being foolish. She wouldn’t die simply because she had been left alone. The palace was full of people.