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Beth’s stomach danced with dread and excitement all while considering what might go wrong with it. “You think he’ll even allow that possibility?”
“Nowthatpart I can help with.”
“How?”
“By informing him my big nose is going to be all in the details, and if I smellanythingfishy,Iwillbring it before The Auditors.”
“You can do that?”
“Yes ma’am I can, and I damn well would,” she half sang. “But aside from him giving you ladies afairtest, your success will fall heavily to the Dice.”
“The dice?”
“The Gauntlet Dice. You roll them before every test, and it determines the level of difficulty. A low roll mean less challenging, a high roll means more.”
“Oh dear,” she whispered. “I’m pretty good at losing in games. Maybe I’ll get low rolls.”
“My prayers will surely be with you either way. You know what? I got it,” she said quietly.”
“Got what?”
“An idea.”
“What is it?”
“I think…” She let out a breath after a few seconds. “I think it’s best you don’t know. Because when he finds out, he’ll be hella angry. No, the less you know in this one, the better for you.”
Beth was back to dread and fear, pacing from the wall to toilet. “Oh boy. Okay.” She took several even breaths. “I trust you. You know what’s best in that.”
“Good. And we can both trust the good Lord. And The Oratrice.”
“The Oratrice?”
“The leader of the Auditors,” she said. “Sometimes situations require a special ruling by her. Things not written on the books or things involving Regle 33.”
“What is that?”
“A rule for clouded judgment. I believe the big-world word isrecusal. The removal of oneself from a legal decision or vote due to a conflict of interest.”
“I see,” Beth whispered as confusion mixed with blind hope. “So maybe we won’t even have to take the test?”
“Oh no, honey, the requirement to pass the Gauntlet Trials to become a member of the 12 is clear law—no ifs, ands or buts on that. But the whens and whys and whats on its particulars are points of squabble. There’s no guarantee this will work but it’s the best I can think of. Anything that would take away his ability to force things that should never be forced is what I’m shooting at.”
Beth sat on the ledge of the tub as fresh tears surged. “Thank you, Mah-Mah. So much.”
“Oh honey,” she cooed, sounding half angry still. “It’ll allll work out, don’t you worry your sweet little soul one bit.”
Beth nodded, letting the confidence in the old woman’s tone help her to breathe. She was relieved to have her pulling for her.
A sudden knock on the door shot her up. “Coming,” she called.
“You better go,” Mah-Mah whispered. “I’ll call The Grand Oratrice first thing in the morning to get the jump on things and set this in motion. If she says what I think she will, we’ll meet in the pantry to go over specifics.”
“Got it.”
“Ma-Petite, who are you talking to?”
Beth hung up and stared at the door. “Mah-Mah,” she said, hurrying to think.
