Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar (20 page)

“Naturally, I’m concerned for Yima herself; she’s very young still, and this is a great responsibility to place on her shoulders at such a tender age. But then, Uluye herself underwent the same trials in her time, so she’s aware of what will be required of Yima and knows better than any of us whether she’s ready to face it.”

Still, there was something untoward in her voice, and Indigo’s conviction that Shalune was hiding the truth—or at least a part of it—grew stronger. Gently probing, she asked, “Have you ever been there, Shalune? To the Ancestral Lady’s realm?”

“Oh, no.” Shalune shook her head emphatically. “Only our future High Priestess and her sponsors ever make the journey through the Well. In fact, both of Uluye’s sponsors are dead now, so she is the only living soul who has ever looked on the Ancestral Lady’s face.”

“The candidate is accompanied by sponsors?”

“Yes. Two must go with her and formally present her.”

Shalune paused. She’d succeeded, to her relief, in diverting Indigo’s suspicions about her own doubts—that brief lapse had been a foolish slip, she told herself sternly—but Indigo had now broached another subject, one that Shalune had hoped to approach more gently and perhaps at a later time. Still, now that the door stood open, perhaps she should get it over with.

She steepled her fingers and stared at them. “There is,” she said, “something you ought to know now, Indigo. About the candidate’s sponsors.”

Indigo’s eyes narrowed slightly as she caught the sudden tension in Shalune’s voice. “What is it?”

Shalune chewed her lower lip, clearly not happy. “As I said, two people must accompany Yima on her journey. One will be chosen by Uluye. The other, by tradition ... is the oracle.”

There was silence. Shalune didn’t have the courage to meet Indigo’s eyes but continued to stare at her hands. Yet the storm she’d anticipated didn’t break. She had expected Indigo to be shocked, alarmed, to make a furious protest; instead, the silence continued, and when at last she did lift her eyes, she saw Indigo still looking at her, her gaze steady and thoughtful.

At last Indigo spoke. “So,” she said quietly, “I am to be sent with Yima to the Ancestral Lady’s realm.”

Shalune nodded.

“When?”

“In a matter of days.” Shalune shuffled her feet uneasily. “Normally, a candidate wouldn’t face the trial so young. Yima’s only sixteen; it should have been another two years at least. But when you spoke—when Uluye heard what you said—”

“She took it as a sign from the Ancestral Lady that the time is right.”

“Yes.”

“And you agree with her.”

Shalune’s face became masklike. “Yes. As I said before, I agree with her.”

Another long pause. Then Indigo asked, very quietly, “What will be expected of me?”

Shalune blinked. “You have no objections?”

“No. Should I have? You tell me this is traditionally the oracle’s task, and there seems to be little doubt in anyone’s mind that I am the oracle. Why would I object?”

Logically, Shalune couldn’t answer that question, but she still felt thrown out of kilter by Indigo’s calm acceptance. To see the Ancestral Lady in person was a rare honor, granted to few living souls, and past oracles had counted themselves greatly privileged to make the journey through the Well and back. Yet Indigo didn’t revere the Ancestral Lady as others did. She was an outsider, not even a Dark Isler; she hadn’t been brought up and trained in the proper ways. Somehow, without knowing quite why, Shauine had
expected
her to object.

She asked cautiously, “Aren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid?” Indigo’s look suddenly grew introverted, and a shadow seemed to form behind her eyes. There was a long pause; then, in a quiet, oddly thoughtful voice, she said: “Yes, I’m afraid. But not, perhaps, for the reasons that you might expect of me.”

And secretly, her mind closed even to Grimya, Indigo added to herself:
But my fear must be conquered; it must take second place. Willing or not, I have to face this ... and I never dreamed that I would find a way to reach this particular demon so easily
....

Uluye announced the date of Yima’s initiation trial at a full gathering of the priestesses by the lakeside that evening. The news was received with great surprise, but also with approval. Yima was hugged and kissed, petted and congratulated, while her mother stood by watching with a victor’s stern pride, her judgment vindicated.

As the initial excitement began to subside a little, Uluye called for silence, and all eyes focused on her once more. She had, she said, one further announcement to make before the ten-day preparations for the great occasion began, and that was the choice of Yima’s sponsors. One, of course, would be their oracle, as was the custom, and she—here Uluye flicked a sharp, sidelong glance at Indigo, who sat as before on her litter throne, a passive observer—was ready and eager to play her part in interceding with the Ancestral Lady. Indigo inclined her head, her expression inscrutable. Uluye frowned faintly and looked away. The second sponsor, she continued, was a matter on which she had both prayed for guidance and conducted intense divinations, and she was now confident that she had made the best, and indeed, the only proper choice.

“To guide my daughter on her journey in the underworld, and to speak for her in the Ancestral Lady’s all-seeing presence,” Uluye said, “I choose my sister in spirit and valued friend, Shalune.”

By sheer chance, Grimya had found herself a place among the gathering not two paces from where Shalune stood, and so the wolf felt clearly the extraordinary mixture of reactions that flickered through the fat woman’s mind before she could collect her wits. Bizarrely, Shalune was relieved and horrified in equal measure—both, to Grimya, inexplicable emotions in this circumstance. Curiosity aroused, the wolf tried to see deeper into Shalune’s thoughts, but her telepathic senses couldn’t probe any farther, and besides, Shalune had already recovered from her confusion and the emotion was buried as she received the congratulations of the other priestesses.

In danger of being trampled as the women crowded around, Grimya withdrew from the throng, puzzled and thoughtful. It seemed from the momentary glimpse she had had into her thoughts that Shalune was torn between wanting—almost
needing
—to be Yima’s sponsor and dreading the prospect with a fear that reached down to the depths of her soul. It didn’t make sense.

The wolf had no chance, though, to consider her speculations any further, for Uluye was now preparing to lead the assembled women in a celebratory ritual chant, and amid the massed voices and the flurry of swaying bodies and stamping feet, Grimya’s only thought was to keep well out of the way. When the chant ended, it seemed that the formalities were completed. As dust settled in the arena, one group of priestesses set off to make the nightly circuit of the lake, while the others gathered around Uluye to ask eager questions about the initiation ceremony and its preparation. The High Priestess was now standing close to Indigo’s litter and Grimya couldn’t reach her friend, so she moved away, beyond the crowd and out of the circle of torchlight, toward the bluff wall.

She was nearing the foot of the staircase, where she meant to wait until Indigo’s litter was borne back to their quarters, when a dark figure moved across her path. Grimya stopped still as she recognized Shalune’s outline in the dimness. Then suddenly a second figure darted from the crowd and ran to intercept the fat woman. It was Yima. Shalune hesitated, then turned as the girl caught up with her.

“Shalune! Shalune, did you—”

“
Hush
!” Shalune put a warning finger to her lips. “Not here—not now!”

“But I must know!
Please
, Shalune—have you spoken to her?”

They were unaware of Grimya’s presence a few paces away. The wolf stood motionless, listening.

“Yes,” she heard Shalune say, “I’ve spoken to her, and she’s agreed to bring the plan forward. I’m not altogether happy, but ... we’ll do it.”

Yima made a sound that could have been either a gasp or a sob. “Oh, thank you!
Thank
you!”

“
Hush
!” Shalune said again, more vehemently. “We can’t talk now.”

“But what of Tiam? What shall I do?”

“Leave Tiam to me. I’ll tell him. It will be better from me than from you, and easier.”

“When will you see him?”

“As soon as I can. Early tomorrow, perhaps; I can always find a good reason for going into the forest. Now—” she turned Yima about “—I’m tired and I want to sleep. Go back to your mother and play your part. When I’ve found Tiam and talked to him, I’ll be sure to tell you.”

Yima went, and Shalune walked on toward the stairs, leaving Grimya staring after them both in turn, her mind racing. What was the secret that these two shared, the plan of which they had spoken? Could Tiam be the young man she had seen with Yima by the lakeside, the man Yima loved? And who was the
she
to whom both Yima and Shalune had referred? Not Indigo, as Grimya had at first assumed, for Shalune had said,
She has agreed to bring the plan forward
. Who, then?

The wolf looked back over her shoulder to the torchlit circle. Uluye was still holding court, and it would be a while yet, she surmised, before the litter was carried back up the cliff face and she’d be able to talk to Indigo privately. She decided to return to their cave and wait; and she also wanted to keep watch on the level where Shalune had her quarters. She didn’t think that Shalune would leave the citadel tonight, but it would be well to be vigilant. For when she did go to meet this Tiam, whoever he might be, Grimya intended to follow her and try to unravel the mystery once and for all.

When the sun rose the next morning, the preparations for Yima’s initiation began in earnest. Indigo had expected an air of celebration and excitement to build up in the citadel, an extension and continuation of the mood generated by Uluye’s announcement, but her expectations weren’t fulfilled. Instead, the prevailing atmosphere among the priestesses was one of extreme tension—anticipation, certainly, but heavily tainted with a powerful sense of oppression and deep-seated fear. It seemed that the women looked on the initiation not only as a trial for Yima, but also, through her, as a test of the entire cult’s standing in the Ancestral Lady’s eyes. If Yima should fail, the Ancestral Lady would be angry and all of her servants would suffer her wrath.

It was a terrible responsibility to place on a single pair of young and inexperienced shoulders, and as she began to realize and understand the risks that Yima would be taking, Indigo was plagued by an agonized conscience, for she knew that she herself was largely responsible for the girl’s coming ordeal.

It was a matter of simple but devastating misunderstanding. When the oracle had possessed her and she had said, “
Come to me
,” Uluye had interpreted the message as a summons to her daughter and was avidly eager to obey. Uluye, however, was wrong. The creature that had gazed out through Indigo’s eyes and spoken with Indigo’s voice that morning didn’t want Yima; it wanted Indigo herself. The command hadn’t been a summons, but a challenge, daring her to pick up the gauntlet and prepare for a confrontation. But Uluye had stepped in and placed her own interpretation on the oracle’s pronouncement, and as a result, Yima was to be placed in the path of something potentially lethal.

She should have tried to explain, Indigo told herself. Even if Uluye couldn’t accept her explanation—and that was a foregone conclusion—there might at least be some small chance of persuading Shalune that the Ancestral Lady’s message had been misunderstood. But the only way Indigo could hope to do that would be by telling Shalune the truth.
All
of the truth, which meant all of her own bitter story. Indigo couldn’t do that. Not, or so she told herself, because she couldn’t bear the thought of admitting what she was and the nature of her quest, but because to do so would be to tell Shalune that the goddess she and all her fellow priestesses worshiped was not a goddess at all, but a demon. To coin a phrase of Grimya’s, that would be akin to wagging her tail in the path of a hunter with a crossbow; she’d be damned as a blasphemer or worse, and would as likely as not find herself condemned to the wooden frame at the lakeside to await her fate at the hands of the
hushu
. She dared not do it. Conscience or no, and Yima’s safety notwithstanding, she couldn’t take the risk.

Besides, as she admitted to herself in a moment of blunt clarity, to do anything that might delay or impede the initiation would be directly against her own interests. She’d been granted a providential chance to seek out the demon in its own domain—indeed, it seemed that the demon had actively sought
her
, and however strongly she might sympathize with Yima, sympathy wasn’t proof against her own more personal needs and desires. She knew that her motive was selfish, but she was honest enough to acknowledge that she was no unbesmirched idealist and never had been. In Indigo’s scales of justice, the fate of Yima, who was after all a virtual stranger, must be outweighed by the fate of herself and Grimya.

Grimya, meanwhile, was beset with her own troubles. Since the night of Uluye’s announcement, Indigo had been distant and preoccupied, and the she-wolf’s efforts to cajole her out of her dark mood had had little effect. Grimya was aware that Indigo had already forced herself to abandon concern over Yima’s welfare for the sake of her quest, and with her customary diffidence, the wolf felt unable to add to her friend’s burden by revealing the complications of her own small mystery. So, feeling isolated and a little bereft, she resolved to learn what more she could, if for no other reason than to give herself some means of whiling away the long, depressing hours in the citadel.

The task proved to be less easy than she’d hoped. To begin with, Yima now spent almost all of the daylight hours and a good part of each night closeted alone with her mother, while Uluye schooled her intensively for the initiation. There had been no more secretive visits to the forest, and it seemed that Shalune had also been too busy to carry out her promise to meet Tiam. The identity of the third conspirator, the
she
referred to in the brief, surreptitious conversation that Grimya had overheard, was still a mystery, and though she listened to many snatches of talk in and about the citadel, the wolf learned nothing to enlighten her any further. The priestesses’ sole topic was the coming ceremony, and the hushed and fearful tones in which it was discussed left Grimya with an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach.