Lady of the Star Wind (13 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

The pain from the snakebite was intense, like she imagined being shot with a blaster might feel. Agony raced with the venom through her veins from the site of the puncture. Sandy heard herself screaming, understood Mark was trying to hold her, but gradually the world grayed, and she felt more and more distant. The sensation was as if she stood off to the side, watching someone else slump to the floor, hitting her head on the base of a column. No anxiety, no medical urgency occurred to Sandy as bright red blood pool around her unmoving form.
Someone needs to take care of the bleeding.
 

A compulsion pulled at her, drawing her away from where her body lay. She half turned to see a bright green light over the altar where she and Tia had placed food and drink. Curious, Sandy abandoned Mark and the spot where her body lay bleeding, and walked through the ancient temple. As she got closer to the intricately carved altar, she realized a woman stood in the center of the light, beckoning to her. The woman reached to take her hand, easily lifting Sandy into the air and drawing her inexorably deeper into whatever corridor the light provided.

“No, wait, I have to stay with Mark,” she said, frightened now, trying to retreat, tugging at the woman’s hand, struggling to remain in the temple. “I can’t leave him.”

“He’ll be fine. Come abide with us for now—we’ve missed you.” The woman touched the center of Sandy’s forehead, and she knew no more.

When she woke, she reclined in a comfortable, white, cushioned chair, feet propped on a footstool carved in the shape of an intricate flower, a brightly hued, tufted cushion as the bloom. A bewildering variety of beverages in cups and goblets rested on a wooden table at her side. As she pulled herself from a slumped position, she realized she no longer wore the turquoise gown. At some point, she had donned, or been dressed in, flowing robes of pure white dotted with tiny iridescent stars. Adrenaline soaring for a moment, she checked for the Traveler key, reassured when she found the chain still looped around her neck. Sandy ran a hand through her hair, pleased by how clean and silky the strands were, only vaguely alarmed she had no memory of a bath.

The brightly illuminated room was empty, although there were four other chairs close to hers, as if company was anticipated. Voices came from somewhere, and Sandy decided her best course of action was to seek out the other people. Before she could leave the chair’s deeply cushioned embrace, however, four women entered the room as if dancing, so light and graceful were their movements. The newcomers were dressed in clothing similar to what she had on, embroidered with symbols other than stars. At the moment, all four were arguing in a language Sandy didn’t comprehend, talking over each other.

“Excuse me,” she said in Outlier, cutting through the chatter as she rose. “Where am I? Where’s Mark?”

All four women swung to face her, and Sandy was struck by the likeness each had to the others, clearly sisters, although the eye and hair colors differed. The tallest stepped forward and answered her in the unknown tongue.

Sandy shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Selata menorasta tintre—” Tone definitely one of irritation, eyes narrowed, the woman thumped Sandy’s forehead with two fingertips. “We haven’t time to waste before we’re interrupted.” She tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “Is that better? Do you understand me now?”

Raising her own hand to stroke her brow where a faint headache throbbed, Sandy nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Be seated, refresh yourself.” The woman made a graceful gesture at the waiting beverages. “We brought all your favorites.”

Sandy sat. Inside, a tiny voice took umbrage at her own meek demeanor, when she’d clearly been kidnapped and separated from Mark, but she felt an overwhelming sense of peace, lassitude almost. Studying the drinks, she wondered if she’d been drugged. “I’ve never had any of these before, to my knowledge.”

“See? I told you she wasn’t who we believed her to be.” The diminutive redhead spoke, voice triumphant. “We’ve made a mistake.”

“She has the key,” answered the blonde, sinking into one of the empty chairs.

The first woman made a shushing gesture. “Let’s begin again, shall we?” Turning to Sandy, she said, “We’re the Moon Sisters who watch over this world—Amrell, Terali, Lifnid, and Tresa.” She’d pointed her index finger at each woman in turn. Now she raised her eyebrows. “And you are?”

“Alessandra of the Outlier Empire.” She thought at least one of the names in the introduction sounded familiar. Hadn’t Rothan made some reference to an Amrell a couple of days ago?

The sisters exchanged glances. “Outlier is a place unknown to us,” said the spokeswoman.

“A name we’ve never heard before and a mortal we don’t know.” Tresa, the redhead, poured herself a drink. “We’re going to regret this rash proceeding.”

“I’m the senior in the sky at the moment, let me handle this.” The leader, Amrell, seemed annoyed, frowning, tapping her toe on the mosaic floor. Gazing at Sandy, she said, “How came you to own the key?”

“I found it in the Oasis of the Travelers, inside the mountain dwelling when we arrived,” Sandy said. “Mark and I were sent to this world by Lajollae, with one of her globes. Maybe you know of her?”

Her audience gasped. The three who’d remained standing hastily sought chairs.

“We believed you were the Lady of the Star Wind, returned at long last,” said Amrell. “We’ve much missed your—her company, and when it became known you were waiting in the temple, we had no other thought but to bring you here as we did in olden times.”

Sandy found herself getting used to the title by now. Maybe a star wind was what Lajollae had used to send her to this world. Somehow, the idea made sense in her current situation. Her reception by these women was cordial enough on the surface. Again, that nagging internal alarm sounded. Mark wasn’t here, and she didn’t know where he was or where she was, so things couldn’t be fine. She dug the fingernails of her right hand into her palm, hoping the tiny prick of pain would help her throw off the lassitude.

“
What
have you done?” The new voice rang strident and accusatory. Sandy shifted in her chair to see a fifth woman had now entered the room. Older than the sisters appeared to be, she was also taller, standing at least two feet taller than Sandy. Set in intricate braids, her long black hair was decorated with emerald and sapphire clips. Most startling to Sandy were the gracefully arching golden horns growing from the woman’s head, rising above her in a perfect curve, with a sparkling diadem suspended between them. The effect should have been odd or even grotesque, Sandy realized, but on this imposing being, the horns were somehow right and proper. Her deep-green dress had golden embroidery, and a belt set with opals in intricate patterns flashed rainbows in the bright light of the chamber.

The four sisters went to their knees, heads bowed. After a moment, Amrell raised her eyes to the newcomer and spoke. “As we were just telling our guest, we knew she waited in the temple so we sent Sherabti to welcome her as in days of old. Her reaction was not as expected, so I decided to personally conduct her and her consort.” Biting her lip, Amrell frowned. “His reaction was also unexpectedly odd, as if his blood fought Sherabti’s elixir. I couldn’t bring him through the barriers into this place.”

“Is Sherabti the snake? You had the snake bite me to get me here?” Sandy was outraged. The emotion gave her energy, broke the spell holding her so calm. These women were more dangerous than she’d realized.

“We meant no harm, Exalted One Haatrin,” Tresa said, getting boldly to her feet and speaking to the horned woman. “We merely wanted to renew our acquaintance with our old friend.” Now she cast Sandy an angry glance. “But this woman is an impostor. We should let her continue into death’s embrace, since loss of life is how her body is reacting to Sherabti’s kiss in the mortal world.”

“Now you want to kill me?” Fight-or-flight response fully engaged, Sandy chose to go on the offensive, leaping to her feet. “I didn’t ask to be bitten by a snake, and I certainly didn’t ask you to bring me wherever this is. Send me back, make me whole, and we’ll call it even.”

“Yet she has the key,” Amrell said, as if Sandy hadn’t uttered a word.
 

Haatrin raised her hands, and the sisters subsided. “You were foolish and hasty,” she said to them, her tone chiding. “Now you must bear the consequences.” Pivoting on her heel, one eyebrow raised, she looked Sandy up and down. “Peace to you, daughter of queens. Matters will be sorted. While it’s certainly true you’re not the Lady of the Star Wind from eons ago, your arrival might be timely, might be part of a larger whole.” Over her shoulder, she addressed Amrell and the others. “You know the balance is in jeopardy. Those who dwell in darkness gather and plot. This woman could be a key herself, a useful component of our strategy.”

“I’m not a tool to be used by others,” Sandy said, drawing upon her imperial heritage to sound haughty and disapproving. “And neither is Mark.”

“Yet you plan to dwell on the world Lajollae sent you to.” Haatrin made her assessment calmly. “Already you’ve chosen a side, made alliances. There’s a cost to such decisions.”

Sandy bit her lip, regretting all over again having agreed so easily to Mark’s desire to leave the oasis and throw their lot in with Rothan and Tia. The stakes had been higher than she’d realized at the time.

Hands folded across her stomach, Haatrin maintained her calm, detached demeanor, in stark contrast to the excitability of the younger women. “All will be decided soon. Sherabti has gone to inform the Mother of these occurrences and She comes to this place to judge.”

The Moon Sisters grew pale, exchanging furtive glances, and the light in the room dimmed. Goose bumps made Sandy shiver.

“We never meant to disturb Her,” Amrell said, biting her lip.

“Yet you took action in a place dedicated to me from ancient times.” The voice was like the crack of a whip. An elderly woman, clad in flowing garments of black, stood on the threshold, leaning heavily on an ebony cane, her withered hand clenched on the flared snake’s head carved at the top. Emerald eyes winked in the carving, and Sandy had the unsettling impression that the eyes fixated on her. “You feckless children summon me to attend to matters I resigned long ago and left behind.”

Thunder rumbled outside the room, and the sisters cringed away as the newcomer hobbled closer. Haatrin bowed her head but appeared less afraid, less gripped by awe than Amrell and her Moon Sisters. “Grandmother Nuet, this interruption is unfortunate but may also have potential. We may have a new Lady of the Star Wind.” She gestured toward Sandy as if presenting a rare treat.

Now the crone’s attention switched to Sandy. Her eyes were bottomless pools of black, sparks of gold flashing in the depths as Sandy stared. Instinctively, she bowed her head as she would have to her own grandmother, the empress. No question, but this newly arrived being commanded respect, whoever she might be. The name had a familiar sound as well. Remembering the altar in the abandoned village, Sandy speculated whether she drifted in a venom-induced dream, constructed from bits and pieces of her recent experiences. But this crone facing her could never be mistaken for a fertility goddess.

“Have you nothing to say?” Nuet’s voice was impatient.

“I think this is all a mistake.” The key hung heavy around Sandy’s neck, and she wished Mark stood at her side.

“The balance of the universe demands correction of true mistakes.” The elderly woman slammed the tip of her cane on the floor for emphasis and spoke as if making a pronouncement.

“I said we should let her die.” Tresa spoke boldly. “All the problems would be solved.”

The crone spun to glare at her, moving faster than Sandy would have dreamed possible, and thunder shook the room. “We don’t yet know the outcome,” Nuet said as the rumbles died away. “Haste only gets you in more trouble, youngest moon.” She raised a cautionary hand as Tresa opened her mouth. “Silence would be well considered at this moment. In fact, you’re dismissed, all of you. Having done your unthinking mischief, your presence is no longer desired.” She waved one hand in a curt, shooing motion. “Be grateful I don’t choose to reclaim my domain here. I might hurtle your namesakes away from this world as my first act.” Her voice echoed in the room, as if they stood in a much larger space.

Like children released from school, the sisters fled in a pack without backward glances, leaving Haatrin, Sandy, and Nuet, the crone.

Sandy studied her. Was it her imagination or did the woman stand taller, her spine not as bent? And her hair had definitely been a wild tangle of dull gray curls, but was now more silver blond, wavy rather than curly. The eyes were the same, deep and unfathomable, but the wrinkles surrounding them were now fewer, the cheeks rosier. The hand holding the cane was smooth, the blue veins nearly unnoticeable, where before the vessels throbbed and drew the eyes.

Haatrin stepped to Sandy’s side, taking her left wrist and gently rotating it to display the angry puncture wounds. “Here is Sherabti’s mark, Mother of Us All.”

The elder leaned closer, peering at the bite. “My servant is never mistaken, regardless of the foolishness of those girls. Sherabti saw potential.”

“And the woman and her mortal companions were in your temple,” Haatrin said as if citing a point in Sandy’s favor. “She made proper sacrifice.”

“We took shelter there from a sandstorm.” Sandy felt compelled to clarify. The stakes in this room were high, with her life and maybe Mark’s in danger. She didn’t want any further misunderstandings between these beings and herself. Had her simple gesture of helping Tia place water and fruit on the broken altar gotten her into this jeopardy? “Please, whatever’s going on here, don’t hurt Mark. Neither of us meant any harm or disrespect. Take your anger out on me if you must, but not him.” She might be angry with him for personal reasons, but she didn’t want the foolishness of the younger women to cause his injury or death.