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Authors: Anne Fortier

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BOOK: The Lost Sisterhood
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CHAPTER EIGHT

LAKE TRITONIS

M
YRINA AND LILLI SPENT ALL AFTERNOON ON THE FISHING BOAT,
punting along the swampy coastline and checking traps that were mostly empty. But in the hour of evening calm, just as Myrina began to fear they would be spending the night on the water, circled by monstrous serpents, the men finally pulled into a cove rimmed with beach huts.

After their long, solitary wanderings, the sight of busy men and women filled Myrina with joy and apprehension all at once. Their mother had always maintained the people living by the sea were the friendliest of all, but then, she had also spoken of clear blue water and sandy beaches—none of which had turned out to be true. In reality, the hue of the sea was a muddy green, and the water in the cove was a stagnant soup of bird feathers and rotting seaweed.

Once their boat had been pulled ashore and its meager catch handed off to a woman with a large basket, one of the fishermen gestured for Myrina and Lilli to follow him, all the while smiling and nodding, as if to assure them of his good intentions. He took them to see an elderly man in a long red cloak who sat with straight-backed dignity on a straw mat in front of a hut, eating nuts from a glazed bowl. Guessing the man was a village elder, Myrina knelt down with Lilli in the sprinkle of nutshells at his feet.

“Greetings to you,” she said, in her own language. When he did
not reply, she repeated the greeting in the three other languages she knew—the Old Language, the Language of the Mountain People, and the Nomad Language. None of her earlier attempts had worked with the fishermen on the boat, but when she spoke now in the tongue of the desert nomads, the man brought his weatherworn hands together in excitement.

“You speak the words of the camel people!”

“Only a little,” said Myrina. “How do you know the camel people?”

“They came here to trade.” The man waved a gaunt arm in the air around him, as if to indicate that things had changed, and not for the better. “There was good trading here when the river ran strong. But no more.”

Although Lilli had never learned the Nomad Language, she seemed to instinctively understand what the man was saying, and they sat for a moment in silence, sharing his distress. Then the man offered both girls a drink of water from a calabash and said, in a tone of business, “Now it is your time to talk. How may I help you young women?”

“We are on our way to see the Moon Goddess,” began Myrina. “In the big city. My sister was blinded by a fever, but we are hopeful she will be cured.”

“I am sorry for your sister.” The man shook his head with regret. “Many, many people journey to the Moon Goddess. She is very busy.”

“Even so,” said Myrina, “we should like to see her.”

The man looked a little annoyed, then shrugged and threw up his hands as if to say he had done what he could. “It is not far. I will tell you the way, but first you must eat and sleep.”

I
N THE HOUR BEFORE
sunrise, hovering on the threshold of the waking world, Myrina sensed the sleeping bodies around her, heard the soft whispers of mothers, and for a moment thought she was back home.

Over there in the corner, she imagined, lay her older sister, Lana, with the new baby snuggled tightly under her arm. And here, right here against her chest, lay Lilli, warm and cuddly and sweet….

The stench brought Myrina back to the present. Unwashed for weeks, with cakes of dirt and bloody crusts hopelessly entangled in its curly mesh, Lilli’s hair was a cruel reminder of everything they had lost.

Myrina turned her head away and clenched her teeth, forcing it all from her consciousness—the sounds, the smells, and all the dear, familiar forms. “Stop thinking,” she commanded herself, over and over, until nothing was left but those two words and their lingering echo.

A
S THE SUN ROSE
and the time for departure came, Myrina took off her necklace and gave it to the fishermen in return for their hospitality. They all shook their heads and refused the gift, but Myrina was determined; although she and Lilli were poor, they still had their dignity.

The necklace was a string of a dozen delicate buds—not from plants, but from the salt plains, which occasionally gave birth to stone flowers of extraordinary beauty. It had been a gift from Myrina’s father to her mother on the occasion of Myrina’s birth—a small pledge of interest from a nomad who called himself a husband but never visited long enough to be so.

“You might as well take this,” Myrina’s mother had said one day, when she was going through her finery. “Here.” She had closed Myrina’s fingers around the necklace with a frown of determination. “Maybe your wearing it will remind him—wherever he is—that he has a daughter.”

Since that day, Myrina had not dared take off the necklace for fear its removal would sever her from her father forever. But now, with their home in ashes, she knew he would never be able to find her again, necklace or no.

And so she and Lilli left the fishing village well rested and with full bellies, but poorer than ever. There was not a single good arrow left in Myrina’s quiver, and with her necklace gone, too, they were unlikely to procure another meal until they reached their destination. “I suppose we could sell Mother’s bracelet,” muttered Lilli, as they walked together along the road to town.

“No!” Myrina took the traveling satchel away from her sister. “She wouldn’t want us to give it away. And we’re so close now—”

But when she saw the city rising before them on the horizon, with its jagged, man-made mountains of building upon building glowing brightly in the morning sun, even Myrina began to wonder whether they were truly that close to their journey’s end. To someone who had never seen a town bigger than the village at home, with its three dozen houses and one central common, a settlement as colossal as this defied all natural sense.

Soon, the road became busy, and people and carts pushed past them impatiently, never stopping to greet them or inquire where they were from. Although she did not say it out loud, Myrina found it all deeply discouraging. In such a vast and busy place, where humans seemed no more mindful, no more welcoming, than beetles, she began to fear that she and Lilli—for all their mother’s assurances—just might discover that they were of next to no consequence to the Moon Goddess or to anyone else.

“Do tell me what you see!” begged Lilli. “Can you see the temple yet?”

But Myrina saw nothing that looked like the magnificent building their mother had described. The Temple of the Moon Goddess, apparently, was as tall as it was wide, and made of brilliant, otherworldly stone. From the splendor of this lofty dwelling the Goddess controlled the ebb and flood of water, cured the ailments of women, and stood up boldly against the reign of the Sun, defying him by lighting up the night sky behind his back. Throughout their long journey, Myrina had been confident that if she and Lilli ever did reach the city on the sea, the temple of this powerful deity would dwarf any other structure around it. How wrong she had been. Walking through the teeming streets with Lilli in tow, she saw many marvelous buildings, some impossibly tall, but none that looked as if they were made out of anything other than sun-dried mud brick.

The immediate challenge, however, was maneuvering through the unfamiliar and unpredictable movements of other people, which more than once made Myrina reach for the knife in her belt. Fortunately,
most of the city dwellers were entirely engaged in their own pursuits; some were carrying tools and ladders around, as if off to build or repair a house, and others were driving mooing, bleating, or clucking livestock through the streets, presumably heading for the marketplace.

A few characters, though, were clearly hovering around with the purpose of striking a bargain with the occasional passerby. Some who had clothing and finery to sell were even bold enough to drape their merchandise around Lilli’s neck before Myrina could push them away. Others offered their services in hoarse, hushed voices before retreating into the dark alleys. It did not take long for Myrina’s polite newcomer’s curiosity to fade into suspicious disdain. She quickly learned to avoid eye contact with anyone seemingly idle, and to duck or sidestep whenever someone approached her with a big smile.

There was no need to explain what she was doing; Lilli instinctively understood. She let Myrina drag her through the tumult, and when the street finally widened, and they could stop and catch their breath, the girl was quivering from top to toe. “Oh, Myrina!” she exclaimed. “To think this place has been here all the time … with all these people. It is too wonderful!”

“I don’t know what is so very wonderful about it—” Myrina began, but then she regretted her words. She had waited so long for Lilli to regain her usual zest for life; she would not squash it.

“What is that horrible smell?” Lilli held her nose in disgust. “It is foul!”

They stood on the rim of a large, open area crowded with humans and animals. Judging from the presence of old, cracked seashells on the hard-packed sand, this sloping ground had been seashore not too long ago—perhaps even a place where tradesmen pulled up their ships. Everywhere Myrina turned were piles of melons and heaps of colorful spices displayed on mats, and a cacophony of wild shrieks told her butchers were slaughtering animals right there, in the middle of it all. “It is a marketplace,” she told Lilli. “Bigger than you can imagine. But there is also”—she stretched to see beyond the commotion—”a house. Enormous. With broad steps in front, and tall, tall columns made of stone.”

As they worked their way through the mayhem, heading for the formidable building, Myrina felt a flutter of excitement in her belly. For above the tall columns ran a long, colorful depiction of all the lunar phases, with the full moon in the middle, right above the colossal entrance door. “I am not sure,” she said, stopping, “but I think this must be it.”

“At last!” Lilli shifted her weight back and forth, anxious to continue. “Why are we standing still?”

“Our task is not an easy one.” Myrina looked out over the rolling horde of people gathered in front of the temple, clearly seeking help. She had never before seen so many assembled in one place. “Come.” Pulling Lilli along by the hand, she tentatively stepped forward, taking care not to disturb the sick resting on mats or the rawboned mothers trying to console their wailing children. But she did not get far before an old woman rose to block her way, sneering something in a language she did not understand.

“I think we must wait our turn.” Myrina looked around at the fetid puddles. The stench was nearly unbearable. “These people have been here for many days, if not weeks. But don’t worry.” She took Lilli firmly by the shoulders, determined that they would not spend as much as a night in this place, surrounded by shrill lamentations and oozing sores. “We’ll find another way.”

Pulling her sister along, Myrina walked briskly away from the mob to see what lay on the other side of the temple. She was intrigued to discover that a tall wall extended from the back of the giant stone building to surround what must be a cluster of houses belonging to the holy complex. And even more encouraging: At the rear, ringed by thorny shrubberies, two tall palm trees had been allowed to grow undisturbed, one leaning gently toward the temple wall. An irresistible temptation for anyone with a hunter’s heart.

“And you thought the gods were against us.” Myrina put her back against the leaning palm tree, testing its strength. “I am telling you, they are on our side. If I am not mistaken, the Moon Goddess has opened her back door to us. Now stay here”—she handed Lilli her
spear and bow, slinging their traveling satchel over her shoulder instead—”while I find someone with a friendly ear.”

T
HE MIDDAY SUN WAS
pouring gold into the temple courtyard. Its reflection in the artfully tiled water basin set the surrounding walls alight with a myriad of glittering stars, and the few women at leisure in this private haven were mostly asleep on mats in the shade of potted trees, the sleeves of their long, white dresses draped elegantly over their eyes. As a result, it took a while before anyone noticed the figure standing atop the tall garden wall, hands raised in greeting.

“I bring you friendship!” were the words Myrina had chosen for the occasion, and although she did not expect anyone to understand her, she was confident her smile would be enough to convince them of her peaceful intent.

But apparently, the women just saw a filthy, trespassing thief about to jump on them from the garden wall, for within a breath or two the tranquil setting erupted in screaming panic.

“No! Please—” Myrina swerved when one of the women pitched a stone at her. But the dainty arm in the flimsy white sleeve had clearly never practiced, and the rock fell into the water basin with a harmless
plop.

Nevertheless, Myrina decided to abandon her perilous stand. Running a few feet farther away along the wall, she jumped onto a lower wall and from there onto a heap of straw mats lying on the ground. As soon as she had regained her balance, she put up her hands once more and smiled at the women, saying, “I am here on a peaceful errand. I carry no weapons. This little thing”—she pointed at the knife in her belt—”is just for hunting. Do you understand?”

BOOK: The Lost Sisterhood
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