Page 50 of Insolence
The eldest of the men briefly stands, his silver hair brushing the indigo cape that hangs from his shoulders. His pale complexion looks both dignified and ghoulish in the swirling fog. He’s the first of them to say anything.
“The druKing and High Queen send their regards. May Aodh bless the Temple of Eisha and you, Mother Prioress.” His voice is bland but powerful. I get the sense that he’s used to people listening when he speaks.
“Sir,” Deirdre bows her head, “we are delighted to have you with us this day.”
Bard Fiach’s piercing blue eyes sweep over us. When his probing gaze meets mine, it lingers a moment too long.
My skin crawls, goosebumps peppering my arms and legs.
“Orum of Clan Madoc has traveled all the way from Cantana to be here today,” continues Mother Deirdre, hands clasped in front of her.
I can’t see the second eldest patriarch through the tangle of tree branches until he shifts in his chair. He bends close to Bard Fiach, his profile and a portion of his purple cape coming into view. He runs a hand down his tidy, sandy-blond beard. His eyes are intense, almost predatory, as he glances around.
My stomach rolls when they find me.
“Finally,” gushes the prioress, “Earrett of Clan Keithan, Patriarch of the Incorporated Territories. I believe you also traveled from Aronya Dar, sir.”
Through a V-shaped opening in the Waymark’s branches, the man in the crimson cape lifts a hand. His expression is somber in his dark-skinned face, as if he wishes to be anywhere else.
You and me both, Earrett.
There’s a smattering of applause, for which the prioress graciously pauses. “Since the Indigo & Veridian Accords established the Ceremony of Induction, the patriarchs have been in attendance to witness the divine miracle of Eisha at work in the mortal realm.”
The lottery was established by the Accords?Sadrie, Cordelia, and I look at each other. We didn’t learn that in orientation.
The prioress spews a few more magnanimous words before turning to her second-in-command, giving Ailen an approving grin.
“She smiles too much,” whispers Sadrie.
“No shit,” I whisper back.
Cordelia’s head whips around. “Hush,” she mouths.
Sister Ailen puffs up her chest and rattles off information about how the drum works and what’s inside of it, which we’ve already been briefed on.
While she rambles, the cloud-swathed sky seems to drop lower, threatening to suffocate us. My attention shifts to the chirping, restless birds. The pampered patriarchs. The cool mist slowly condensing over the cobblestones.
“Thirty-four spheres,” says Ailen crisply, bringing my focus back. “It just so happens there are thirty-four of you.”
“Imagine that,” I mumble.
“Your names will be called in the order you arrived at the temple,” says Ailen.
Sadrie and I look at each other, and I already know what she’s thinking. My thoughts are the same—
No new initiates have arrived after me, which means I’ll be the last to draw a sphere today.
Chapter 14
Itissa
The mist is descending and thickening into a swirling fog that engulfs the temple complex. The Five become no more than hazy figures on their fancy little dais. Behind us, the Entrance Arch is a misty mass of black iron. The Temple Guardsmen are barely visible on either side, cheeks red with the cold.
“When your name is called,” says Ailen, “approach and spin the drum. Your sphere will roll out here, underneath.” Her gnarled fingers brush the black velvet draped over a long chute. “This is the most important part.” Her eyebrows arch into the fair skin of her deeply lined forehead. “If you’re wearing gloves,please remove one before reaching into the holding channel. You may then approach the patriarchs.”
Oh, gods. That’s right.We’re supposed to “present” our spheres to them. There’s curtsying involved.
Having said her piece, Ailen regards Deirdre. “Your reverence?”
