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I wonder what exactly the goddess has shared with Taria.
The priestess closes her eyes, and an aura of light washes over her. Her brows furrow with tiny lines of concentration. The surrounding light grows with intensity until it becomes blinding enough that I have to look away, and so does Natharius. Even Taria’s two guards are forced to avert their eyes.
“Tamiliya,”the priestess whispers. The light erupts. A beam shoots forth and slams into the sickly girl.
The girl jerks backward from the force. Magic pours from the priestess and into the peasant girl. Beads of sweat emerge on Taria’s brow. Her hands tremble, and her magic falters. The strain in her shoulders is clear.
“Taria!” Juron calls over to her. “That’s enough! If you use any more magic, you could kill yourself!”
If Taria hears his warning over the buzz of magic, she doesn’t heed it.
“Leave her be,” Caya says to Juron, her voice cold and firm. “The Mother guided her to this girl for a reason. We cannot know what part she may have to play in the future and why the Mother asked Taria to heal her. Perhaps one day she shall become a priestess or a chancellor. It is not our place to intervene.”
Juron lowers his head.
Impatient tapping comes from behind. I turn to see Natharius looking exceptionally irritable. Since he can’t currently speak, I suppose he feels the need to communicate his displeasure in a different way. I flash him a glare and hope it reminds him I’ve already silenced his tapping before and that I’m prepared to do it again. Given how he wrinkles his nose and stops, I’m inclined to believe he understands my silent warning perfectly well.
The excursion of healing a peasant girl isn’t one I had in mind, especially not when it risks killing the priestess who possesses the many answers I seek, but we can’t leave her here to die. Though Natharius would advocate for that option if he could speak.
I have no choice but to wait until Taria finishes healing the girl. Luckily, it only takes a few minutes more.
The girl’s eyes flutter open, and she looks up at the five of us and blinks several times. “I . . .” The syllable comes out hoarse, as if she has drunk nothing for days, but she doesn’t finish her sentence since Taria topples backward. Juron lunges forth and catches her before she slams into the street.
“Taria!” he exclaims.
The priestess murmurs something, but I can’t make out her words.
Juron clasps her delicate face in his hands, his dark eyes filled with panic.
“She’ll be fine,” Caya says. “She’s used up more of her magic than this before. All she needs is rest.”
Juron lifts Taria into his arms as if she were a porcelain doll. The priestess looks even more serene with her eyes closed and her chest steadily rising and falling.
“What of the girl?” I blurt, when Caya and Juron turn away. “We can’t leave her here.” Especially not after Caya mentioned the possibility of the girl being sold. If this part of the city is as dangerous as that, Taria’s effort to heal her will be in vain.
“We don’t know what vision the Mother granted Taria,” Caya says, placing a hand on her hip. “She knew how much strength it would require to heal the girl and that it would more than likely result in her being rendered unconscious. If she intended for us to bring the girl back to the temple with us, she would have told us to do so before beginning her spell. Though I can’t claim to know the Mother’s Will like Taria does, I’ve learned enough to know the future is a tangle of hundreds of different threads and any slight ripple can cause the entire world to plunge down a dark path. I’m also sure this is something you have recently experienced for yourself.”
“What—”
“This isn’t the place to have this discussion with you, nor should I be the one to do so. Taria will once she’s well.”
Caya’s expression is stone, and her tone is ice. I doubt words alone will pry the truth from her lips. But after what she has said, all I can think about is whether Taria has seen a vision where Nolderan did not fall. Were my choices those tiny ripples which Caya alluded to? Could my actions have prevented all that death and destruction?
Caya plucks a golden coin from a leather pouch among the many blades sheathed at her belt and holds it out to the girl. She shuffles back into the shadowed corner as Caya approaches and regards the rest of us warily—particularly Natharius. I suppose even a child can tell there’s nothing natural about blood-red eyes. She doesn’t seem too trusting of Caya either, but her face isn’t much more welcoming than the Void Prince’s. And that’s no easy feat.
“Here,” Caya says, tossing the coin onto the street. “Take this and buy yourself something to eat tonight. You’ll have more than enough for clothes as well. Spend it quickly, or it’ll end up in someone else’s pocket.”
The girl creeps forth on her hands and knees and snatches the coin. She lifts it to her mouth and gives it a single bite and, once satisfied, darts around the corner and out of sight.
“You could have at least given her two,” Juron says.
“Then it would draw twice the attention,” Caya replies. She gestures toward the temple in the distance. Its limestone pillars peek out from the rusty roofs of the city. “Let’s get a move on. Taria needs to rest, and one of our guests is in desperate need of freshening herself.” She gives me a pointed look and wrinkles her nose as if I stink. I probably do.
I shrug. “Fine by me.”
seventeen
Theentourageofpriestessesfrom the square awaits us at the temple’s entrance. They hurry to us as we turn the corner, their faces growing concerned at the sight of Taria’s small body in Juron’s arms.
