Chapter 11

She tried to ignore the curious stares from the people around her. It was the first time that she rode so openly with her father's cloak, the sign of a Healer, in the company of not only an aristocrat, but the First Counselor no less. They waded through hushed whispers and speculative glances, and Miriam tried her best to hold her head up high despite her unease about being the center of attention. After all, she had been taught to be invisible to strangers for her own safety.

"What if they don't approve of me?" she asked, trying hard to inconspicuously hold her mare back. "You know, Adrian, perhaps I should just return to the castle. You can just tell the head priest and priestess that I'm occupied with the king's health and have not a moment to spare. Surely they can understand that."

She was about to turn her mount around, but Adrian grabbed her reins. The steely look in his eyes warned her not to be difficult today. "Miriam, I have little patience to deal with you at the moment. We are going to the temple, even if I have to carry you off on my shoulder."

A glint of challenge lit in her eyes at his threat. "Oh, I should like very much to see you try, my Lord."

"I have no doubt of your capability of giving me a few bruises," Adrian said dryly, "so let's just spare ourselves some pain and indignation and go to the temple."

She pretended to sulk, out of principle. Besides from the stares and Adrian's ill temper, she was happy to be outside of the confinement of the castle at last. Though Pelicana was nothing like her home, it was refreshing to be among the people she associated herself with the most — the farmer bargaining with a woman while gesticulating wildly with an ear of corn, the merchants shouting to passerby from the cool shade of their shops, and the women with baskets swarming around like bees. Homesickness speared through her heart, and she found herself wondering about her father's health. Seeing her occupied by her thoughts, Adrian expertly steered both of them through the morning crowd and past the busy market.

The temple was nothing like the one she attended in Triten. White marble columns soared above her, and the tall bronze door was flung open wide, its surface decorated with entwining sculpted figures. Adrian helped her dismount, handing their horses to stable boys who ran out to greet them from the back of the temple. Holding her suddenly clammy hand in his, he led her to the Holy Springs Temple of Pelicana.

It was dim inside, and she could see thick pillars of white beeswax candles along the sides of the stone walls illuminating looming marble sculptures of the gods and goddesses. Straight ahead of her, she could see the gentle face of the Goddess of the Earth, the Mother. Her arms are open, the all-embracing Goddess who gave birth to all creatures. There were flowers in front of her, their colors vibrant against the white stones. Miriam glanced up and saw the mural on the ceiling of angels, their swooping wings open, always vigilantly protecting the deity and the good. Miriam swallowed, too moved to say anything. Adrian tugged her hand, dragging her along as her eyes remained glued to the mural above.

A priest hurried toward them, bowing as he said, "Lord Aubren, the Head Priest and Priestess will receive you. Please follow me."

They went down a flight of stairs on the left wing of the temple, the clicking of their shoes echoing in the empty hall. It was cold and dark under the main temple, though there were torches along the walls. The priest knew it like the back of his hand, however, finding his way without hesitation through the twisting tunnels. When they arrived at a door, he rapped three times and pushed it open, a square of bright light flooding through. Adrian thanked him, then pulled the reluctant Miriam through the door. The priest bowed again to whomever was in the room, then left.

Miriam squinted until her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. When she could see, she noticed that the light was emanating from the two figures sitting by the table. The woman was wearing a white robe embroidered with gold threads swirling along the sleeves, her face cold and smooth like marble, her dark hair threaded by silver strands. The man was similarly dressed, and his hair was completely white. Suddenly afraid, Miriam clutched Adrian's hand tightly.

The woman said, "Lord Adrian, how nice to see you again." Her voice was low and soft.

Prying his hand away from her deathly grip, Adrian said, "Head Priest, Head Priestess, this is the new Healer of Rae, Miriam."

Miriam smiled nervously, forcing her locked knees to bend into an awkward curtsy.

"Come here, child," the Head Priest said gently. "Lord Adrian, please give us an hour's time with the girl."

"No!" Miriam blurted. She looked at Adrian, her eyes pleading. "You said you would be with me."

Adrian brushed his thumb across her cheekbone, whispered in a soothing tone, "Don't worry, Miriam. No harm will come to you, I promise. I will be here in an hour." He kissed her cold hand before leaving, with Miriam staring after him desperately. Neither noticed the priest and priestess exchanging a look.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, she turned to face the messenger of the gods. They waited patiently for her to sit by them at the table. A tea set was out, the familiar herbal fragrance of the tea soothing the knot in Miriam's stomach temporarily.

"Adrian said that you would like to talk to me about opium," she started, then almost bit her tongue. She flushed, stuttering as she said, "I mean... er, that is, the usage of..." She hung her head in embarrassment.

The priestess cackled. "We are not here to interrogate you. We are merely curious about a woman who so openly flout the will of the deity."

"I never flouted the gods and goddesses," she argued heatedly. "I have naught but the utmost respect for them." She leaned forward in her chair, looking at the priest and priestess earnestly, her fears momentarily forgotten. "I understand, more than anyone, the ill effects of opium, but like any other poisonous substance, it can do good."

"Are snakes not made by the deity as well?" she demanded. As if suddenly realizing how impertinent her outburst had been, she clapped a hand over her mouth and lowered her head. "Forgive me, but I spoke out of turn. I did not mean to be rude."

The priestess set her teacup down, the clinking of the china crisp. "You understand, of course, that we cannot publically condone the usage of opium," she said seriously.

"I understand, Mother."

"Although we also understand that it has medicinal purposes," the priest added.

Miriam nodded. "The king's illness is of such a nature that any other medicine cannot alleviate him of the tremendous pain. It would progressively worsen until his body gives up."

"He must break our rules then, for the country," the priestess spat.

Stiffly pushing himself out of the chair, the priest walked to the shelves that lined the walls of the room, running a deft hand across the aged spines of the books. He pulled out a thick volume and brought it table, setting it down safely away from the tea. Feeling more curious than wary now, Miriam glanced at the title. She was surprised to find that it was in the ancient Erythian, and although she was not completely fluent in the language, she thought she could make out the characters for "history" in there somewhere.

When the priest carefully lifted the leather cover, Miriam gasped. The volume had been meticulously copied in a flourish hand, with colorful illustrations along the margins. Such manuscripts were rare, and very few were so well-preserved as this one.

When she finally turned her eyes away from the pages, she saw that the priest and priestess were waiting for her, trying to hid their amusement. She shrugged, not particularly embarrassed about her passion for books. Her fingers itched to touch the letters, to feel the texture of the paper.

"Do you read ancient Erythian?" the priest asked.

"Only some, and very slowly," Miriam said. "My father owned a few books in ancient Erythian, but I have read them so many times that I remember most phrases." She stepped toward the book to observe it more closely. "I have never seen anything like this," she murmured.

"It is the history of the temple and we would like you to read it," the priestess said, "if you can."

Miriam's head whipped up, her eyes wide. "I can touch it?"

"Well, yes, of course," the priest said, impatiently waving at the book now.

He gestured, and Miriam dropped unceremoniously into the chair that he pulled out for her. Brushing a few strands of stray hair away from her face, she opened her mind and let the words speak to her. Trying hard to block out the prickling sensation from every stare that the two glowing figures send her way, she strung the individual words together in her mind to form coherent sentences. Once she became accustomed to the flow, she picked up the pieces of the puzzle with more ease.

"Oh, I did not realize... how is it that..." she started after working her way through a couple pages. She frowned, flipping back and forth, certain that she had read wrong.

She rubbed her temples, staring at the colorful pages in front of her. "I did not realize that the priests and the healers were the one and the same, not so long ago really," she said softly.

"It was the temple's responsibility long before there were healers," the priestess said, "but soon it became necessary for us to diverge as there was simply too much for the temple to do. However, at the heart of it, the art of healing was always meant to be holy, as was the temple."

"I've always known that. I don't understand the temple, though we have a small one in our village." She leaned forward, eager now to make these people see. "Not like this, and the priest certainly does not glow," she added hastily, "but please believe me when I say that I do have the utmost respect for the gods and goddesses. You need not worry that I am a heathen."

"You surprised us," the priest murmured. "Certainly, you are not what we expect of Isaac's daughter."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Your father had given us plenty of grief while he was here at court, with his unconventional thinking and his readiness to defy religion," the priestess said grimly. "We were afraid that his daughter would be the same."

Miriam shook with fury, shoving her chair back and slapped her palms against the surface of the table. Her eyes were fierce, but her voice was quiet, lethally so. "My father stands up for what he believes in, and he has taught me to do the same. In that aspect you will find us exactly the same. If he did not obey the temple, it was because your rules did not seem right to him. I know my father better than any of you could ever hope to know, and I know that he raised me to respect the divine."