Page 14 of The Faerie Morgana
“She is not, sir. I would say Braithe has gifts we have not yet appreciated.”
“That is a wise observation.” The Blackbird pushed himself away from the wall and wriggled his back as if it ached.
“I suppose I had best join the others.”
“Yes. But I would still like to know how you acquired a fever.”
“I wish I could tell you.” It was an enigmatic thing to say, but Morgana shrank from lying to her mentor outright.
If he knew she was holding something back, he didn’t say so. He gestured for her to go ahead of him, to make her way to the private dining room of the Nine. Feeling self-conscious in her new garb, she led the way, but when they reached it, she stood aside for him to go in first, not wishing to be seen making an entrance on her first day.
He glanced up at her as he sidled past. “Give it time, Priestess Morgana.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, but as the gazes of eight priestesses turned to her, she wished she could have broken bread with the acolytes. She drew herself up to her full height, met each of the unfriendly stares in turn, nodded to Priestess Joslyn, the only one who smiled a welcome, then strode to the place waiting for her at the long table.
“Good morning, sisters,” she said, her deep voice resonating in the low-ceilinged room.
“You’re late, Priestess,” Niamh scolded.
Morgana sank into her chair. “I am sorry. Fortunately, you did not wait.”
“Never,” Niamh growled.
Olfreth smirked, and someone—Sennet, perhaps—stifled a laugh.
Across the table, shy Joslyn, her chin tucked, looked up atMorgana from beneath her eyebrows and winked. Morgana winked back.
Braithe and Morgana fell into a pattern over the next months. Braithe was happy to be running errands for the new priestess, carrying messages when Morgana was meeting with supplicants, often coaxing her to eat and sleep instead of laboring in the workroom most of the night. Braithe attended Morgana early, before she went to breakfast, and stayed close at hand until Morgana went to her bed.
On a chilly morning in early winter, when Niamh had mulched the herb beds and was beginning to harvest the mistletoe, Morgana dispatched Braithe to the workroom for a salve for a supplicant. One of the youngest of the acolytes found her there as she searched the shelves for the salve Morgana had requested. The acolyte said, “Braithe? Iffa wants you.”
“Who?”
“The acolyte mistress,” the child said. And then, naively, “The one with the big nose.”
Braithe chuckled and patted the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”
“She’s waiting in the dormitory.”
“Very well. Thank you for letting me know. Back to your work now.”
The child dashed away. Braithe, impatient with the interruption, turned to the dormitory, the jar of salve in her hand. There she found Iffa sitting in a chair beside her pallet.
Iffa rose when she came in and stood with her hands tucked into her long sleeves, scowling. “At last!” she huffed.
Braithe approached her warily. “Priestess,” she said. “Did you want me for something? Priestess Morgana is waiting for this salve for one of the—”
“Never mind that!” the old priestess snapped. “Morgana can fetch her own salve!”
“She has too many people waiting to consult her. She’s busy from morning till night.”
It was true. Though only months into Morgana’s priestesshood, the entire Temple was aware that word of the new priestess’s power had reached beyond the Isle. More supplicants than usual began to find their way to the Temple to seek her help. Niamh didn’t mind, nor did the Blackbird, because these people brought tribute, sometimes coins, often fresh-caught fish or rabbits, or vegetables from their crofts. It was the other priestesses who minded, who resented the popularity of the newest in their midst. Only Joslyn appreciated Morgana’s popularity, and of course, and always, Braithe.
Iffa snapped, “Who appointed you as personal attendant to a priestess?”
“No one did, but she—”
“If she is overburdened, she must share her duties. We are all called to serve. She spent most of yesterday with one person, and I could have created a charm for that ailment in no time.”
