Glasswrights' Test (27 page)

“Yes, my lady,” the priest muttered automatically, still trying to ease his cloak more closely about her. The operation was made more difficult by his apparent aversion to touching her.

“They speak lies against me,” Berylina said, her voice filled with child-like surprise.

“They are frightened,” Father Siritalanu said.

“They are fools,” Rani snapped. “We'll do away with their accusations by dawn!”

“I am not a witch,” Berylina whispered. “The gods would not speak to me if I were a witch. They would not come to me. They would not let me see them. Hear them. Taste them. . ..”

“You are not a witch,” Father Siritalanu said, but his forehead wrinkled. He continued to speak, but his words were so soft that Rani could scarcely hear him. “My lady, you should not speak of the gods coming to you. Not here. Not now.”

“You know they do, Father.”

“I know that your prayers are strong, my lady.”

The princess laughed, and Rani's skin crawled at the high, eerie sound. She thought of a midnight storm, and the wind trying to pry thatch from the roof. She thought of old Glair, the Touched woman who led the Fellowship back in Moren, who pretended to be mad as she huddled in freezing doorways.

“Do not fear me,” Berylina said, when she could catch her breath after her laughter died. The princess looked past Father Siritalanu, pleading her case directly to Rani. “I
do
see the gods, and smell them as well. Taste them and touch them and hear them. Why should they hide from all my senses? They are omnipotent, no? They can do all things? Why should they be limited to appearing before my eyes?”

“My lady,” Father Siritalanu said. “We'll speak of this tomorrow, once you are out of this cell. We'll address your spiritual questions then. For now, you should stay quiet—”

“Quiet!” Berylina gasped. “Quiet! Ask instead that I sit here without stinking of water, without smelling of Mip's fountain. Ask that I not taste the blood on my lips! Ask that I not hear my own heart beating against my rags!”

“Please, my lady!” Father Siritalanu cast a look of despair toward Rani. “Please. Let us help you. Let us wrap you in a clean gown, in a dry one. Let Lady Ranita serve you in this, at least.”

The princess thrashed her head, as if she were a horse trying to fight free of a bridle. She stopped herself, though, and turned toward Father Siritalanu, pinning him with one glittering eye. “If Ranita would serve me, there is one thing that she might do.”

“Yes, my lady?” Rani asked, wanting to help the poor creature before her, even as she was frightened by the princess's vehemence.

Berylina whispered, “Speak with me.”

“I
am
speaking with you.”

“No!
Speak
with me!”

Rani realized the princess's intention, even as Father Siritalanu sucked in his breath. “My lady,” he protested, loud enough that Rani feared the guard would return. Berylina ignored him, though, clutching at Rani's cloak as if it were a rope tossed to save her from drowning.

“Please, Ranita Glasswright. I would Speak with you. I would plumb the depths of my worship of the Thousand. You have told me tales of the players, about how you learned your glasswright skills. I would apply the same lessons to myself, to my worship.”

“My lady,” Rani protested. “I have never guided anyone in the ways of Speaking.”

“But you have been guided yourself, many times.”

“Let me send for Tovin Player, my lady. He is far more skilled than I.”

“And you think the guards would let him pass? You think that he would guide me better than you? He is a player, Ranita Glasswright, a man who makes his living masquerading as something that he is not. He was raised in godless Liantine. He does not know my heart; he does not understand my worship. You do. You can help me.”

Rani wanted to protest. She wanted to explain that she did not understand the princess. She did not understand the fire of religious passion that clearly burned behind Berylina's fevered brow. Besides, Rani had not been lying when she protested. She was not schooled in all the players' ways, and she had never tried to guide another in Speaking.

Nevertheless, a prideful whisper taunted, she
did
know a great deal about the practice. Tovin had guided her for years now, taking her through her memories, helping her to explore her thoughts and reasoning and beliefs.

She turned to Father Siritalanu. “Father, if you could watch in the hallway, make sure that we are not interrupted by the guards.”

“You aren't actually going to
feed
this madness, are you?”

“I am going to help the princess, Father. She has asked, with a clear conscience and with a good heart. I am going to guide her so that she might serve the gods.”

“The Thousand care nothing for your Speaking!”

“Then it will work no harm for us to try. The gods will only ignore us.” Rani saw the smile grow on Berylina's lips, realized that the princess was pleased with her argument. “Please, Father. We don't know how much time we have before the guards return.”

Father Siritalanu took one lingering look at his charge, and he seemed about to cast another argument. He caught himself instead and waved his hand in a religious symbol. “May First God Ait watch over you, and may Jair himself guide all your steps.”

“Amen,” Princess Berylina whispered, the word slipping over her blue-tinged lips.

Rani waited until Father Siritalanu had stepped into the corridor before she knelt beside the princess. “Please, my lady. I will guide you in this thing, to the best that I am able. But first, you must take my gown. You must be warm and comfortable to do your work. Your mind must be free of your body's needs, if you are to make the journey of Speaking.”

This time, Berylina acceded. She gathered herself slowly from her stone bench, moving as if she were awakening from a very deep sleep. She struggled with her clinging garments, and her teeth began to chatter as she peeled away the heavy layers. First, her cloak, then her gown, then her clinging undergarments, shed from her body with all the naive certainty of a child.

Rani looked away, embarrassed by the naked body in front of her. Berylina was a
princess
after all. How could Rani look upon her this way? Pulling at the laces of her own garment, Rani rapidly cast down her cloak. She lifted her dress over her head and passed it to the princess, taking care not to touch the chilled royal fingers, not to focus on the girl's blue-tinged limbs.

In fact, Rani only looked at Berylina after the princess had pulled her wiry hair free of the garment's neck, after she had smoothed the lines of the gown down her body. The fabric was snug across the princess's curves, but Rani thought that the tight cloth might warm Berylina faster, might speed away some of her deadly pallor.

“Very well,” Berylina said, and her teeth had stopped clattering. “I have acceded to your demands. Now you must yield to mine.”

Rani inclined her head in silent acceptance of their bargain. Berylina must focus on something, some instrument to bring her deeper into the Speaking. Rani glanced about the cell, but she found nothing for the duty, nothing that would work except for the glittering Thousand Pointed Star that was puddled in her cloak. She retrieved the worked gold and balanced it in her palm.

“Very well, my lady,” she said, as she contemplated what she was about to do. What
would Tovin say? How would he criticize Rani when he found that she had appropriated the players'
tool? “You must make yourself as comfortable as possible. Put my cloak around your shoulders. No. No
protest. I'll take it back when I leave, to cover my shift, but you must be freed from thinking of
your body now.”

Much to Rani's surprise, Berylina complied. The princess settled the wool about her shoulders, and then Rani opened the fist that she had made around her Thousand-Pointed Star. She tilted it toward the weak sliver of sun from the room's window, turning it to reflect more of that light. “Look upon the Star, my lady.”

Rani tried to remember how Tovin had first introduced her to Speaking, how he had initially brought her to the altered state where she could see her past, where she could excavate all the energy and passion and knowledge that she'd ever gained. “Look into the light, my lady, and let it become a part of you. Let it be your guide and your path. Let it be your eyes and your sight. Let it take you into your heart and through your mind. Let it guide you into your thoughts, farther and farther, so that you are beyond this room, beyond Brianta.”

Berylina had focused on the Star as soon as Rani extended the symbol. Her breathing deepened with every phrase that Rani uttered. The princess's lips stopped their trembling, and her face smoothed, cleared of worry. Rani felt a surge of power build beneath her own breastbone. She was guiding this Speaking!

“Berylina, I'm going to ask you to count for me. After each number that you say, take a deep breath. As you breathe out, you will travel deeper into the Star, deeper into your thoughts, deeper into the Speaking. Each breath will bring you greater peace. Each number will bring you closer to your self, to your thoughts, to your true inner being. If you'd like, you may close your eyes as you count. Now, say the first number with me. One.”

“One.” Berylina whispered the word, and then she filled her lungs, breathing deeply, as if she were preparing for some sublime pronouncement. She held the air for a long moment, and then she exhaled. Rani could feel the breath driving the princess deeper, closer to her core, closer to the depth of Speaking. “Two.” Berylina repeated the process, and when she exhaled for the second time, she closed her eyes. “Three.” Rani felt her surge deeper, farther, more distant.

Rani waited for Berylina to voice the next number, but the princess remained silent. She continued to fill her lungs, breathing in so deeply that Rani wondered if the seams of her stressed gown might split. But then, the princess exhaled, pulling herself to an ever more distant place.

“Very well,” Rani said, after the princess had taken another half dozen breaths. “You can feel the power of the Star. You can count all the Thousand Points. You can wind between them, finding your way, guiding yourself, moving, moving, moving. Follow the Star back to one specific day, Berylina. Find your most important memory, in your heart, in your mind. Follow the Star to that day.”

Rani waited while Berylina thought. Emotions flitted across the princess's face—fear and hurt and anger. “Be easy, Berylina,” Rani said. “You can choose the memory. You can choose a place that is safe. A place where you learned, where you grew. None of your memories can hurt you. Not here. Not now.”

Berylina's breathing smoothed, and her face became placid. The deep breathing—or perhaps Rani's warm shift and cloak—had brought a touch of color back into her cheeks, a hint of rose beneath the alabaster. “When you are ready, Berylina, I want you to tell me where you are. Tell me what you see.”

The princess was silent for a long minute, as if summoning words was a task worthy of a warrior. “Liantine,” she whispered at last.

“You are in Liantine?” Rani was not surprised. The princess had lived thirteen of her sixteen years in Liantine. “Tell me where, Berylina. Tell me what you see.”

“I'm in my nursery. The old nursery. Before they took down the spidersilk hangings. Before they brought in the Horned Hind.” Rani heard the wonder in the princess's voice, the child's softer forming of the words.

“How old are you, Berylina?”

“Nine. Today is my birthday. We had almond cake, and my father gave me a kitten.” The whisper of a smile crept onto the princess's lips. “I had other gifts as well. A gilded mirror, and a gown the color of the sky. And no one laughed at me today. No one at all.”

The princess's lips trembled, and her forehead creased into a frown. “No one will laugh at you now,” Rani assured her.

“But my eyes are not right. And my teeth stick out.”

“No one will laugh at you,” Rani repeated. “Not now. Your Speaking is in your memory, my lady. You have power over it. You can end it whenever you desire.” The words soothed the woman-child, and Rani waited for her to draw a few more deep breaths. “Tell me more about the day, my lady. Why have you chosen to Speak this story?”

“I've come from the dining hall. I still have crumbs on my hands.” Berylina's fingers were curled into fists, managing to echo the chubby knots that she must have known in her childhood. “My nurse greets me, and she takes the kitten. She says the kitten must go to sleep, and so must I.”

Berylina raised her hands, as if she were offering up a small, furry comfort. Rani feared that the animal would meet some dire fate, some disaster that would make this day important in Berylina's memories. But no, the kitten seemed to be carried away without trauma.

“Nurse says that I should pray with her, before I take my nap. She's a new one, this nurse, new to me, because my brothers have teased all the other nurses into leaving. She's young. She comes from Amanthia, from far away.”

Amanthia. Rani's mind flashed to her own memories of that land, to its wild forests and ragged coastline. To the Little Army. To Crestman. But Berylina had never traveled to Amanthia. She did not hold those visions.

“Nurse makes me kneel beside her on the prie-dieu. The bench is still too high for me. I can't rest my head on the cross bar. I bow my head, though, trying to be like Nurse.” Berylina suited action to words. In the washed-out light of the cell, she looked as if she were a child, as if her arched neck were a humble, vulnerable offering.

“Nurse prays to her gods, to the Thousand, who make their home in Amanthia. She prays in the name of Pit and Dol and Roat. She asks Nome to watch over me.”

Berylina bowed her head even further, and her lips began to move in a silent incantation. Rani waited for a moment, expecting the story to continue. When the princess remained silent, Rani prompted, “What are the words of her prayer, Berylina?”