The Sight of Blood: Rhen's Story

-3- Dreams

“You should not have been climbing, Rhen. The Edran was right to speak to you.”

Rhen did her best to hold the copper bowl steady. In it was a mixture of pigments and animal fat her mother used to paint her face. Her mother took a pinch of the dark blue mixture and applied it under her eyes, her hands steady and precise even without a looking glass. The sun was setting and tonight was the Blood Moon, a night filled with magic and ritual. The nessari would use magic tonight, though Rhen had never witnessed the rituals herself. Her mother and aunts would return to their chambers the next morning, exhausted and sometimes bruised, and would sleep for a day and a night. Rhen hated the Blood Moon ceremonies. She hated waiting and being alone for so long.

“May I watch tonight? I won’t get in the way.”

“You know the answer. The Edran would be furious and children have no place there.”

“Maybe because no one has let us try. Maybe I could learn some magic, and-“

Her mother dropped down and grabbed Rhen’s arms, leaving smears of blue on her sleeves. She looked wild and inhuman, wide-eyed and covered in painted lines. “Do not. Ever. Attempt to use magic. Do you understand, Rhen? It’s dangerous.”

Rhen bit her lip, holding back tears. She forced herself to nod and felt herself released. With careful movements she placed the bowl of paint on the table, then hurried out of their little house and slid down into a soft patch of moss that grew around the door. Her face was hot and her eyes blurred. When at last her mother came out Rhen remained silent, only nodding to confirm that she was to stay in their room and out of trouble. Several other nessari passed by without looking at her, their arms and faces painted all colors. Rhen waited until they were out of sight to rise, wiping away the tears that had dried on her cheeks.

With silent steps she passed behind the buildings in the shadows cast by the orange-red moon that was beginning to rise over the trees. Moving about the temple unknown had become a hobby of hers. She liked to see how far she could get before she was spotted, slinking through shadows and crouching in the foliage. Tonight she would go somewhere she hadn’t before – into the inner temple.

No one entered the temple without express permission. The white stone building was ornate with jade and tile scrollwork that glittered brightly in the sun, but under the reddish haze of the moon tonight everything seemed darker, the shadows longer. Rhen used the darkness to her advantage, though no one was here to see her tonight. They were all within, gathered in the inner courtyard she had only seen in passing when the doors stood open. Tonight they stood wide and Rhen was free to enter. All eyes were turned toward the stone cobbled circle in the center of the yard. Copper braziers lined the outer edge, each one emitting a sweet-smelling smoke that filled the courtyard and made Rhen’s head swim.

She pressed herself against the moss-ridden wall, careful not to make a sound as she slipped behind the human men that guarded the temple gates. They wore heavy leather and carried a long curved knife in each hand, the blades so polished she could see herself in them if she dared get close enough. These men never spoke. Celane had whispered to her once that their tongues were removed, along with other things, to ensure they would not interact with the women there. Having no voices also meant they could not issue a warning. They killed any who tried to enter or leave without permission without a second thought. Rhen shuddered at the thought and hurried past them to crouch behind one of the many stone pillars. The smoke wafted lazily and stung her eyes.

At the center of the circle stood four of the nessari women. One was her mother, the other aunt Celane. They were each chained to the ground by their wrists, their faces lifted to the sky. The paint on their skin made them look like monsters. All around them were the priests in hooded robes dyed a rich dark blue. The sleeves were so long that Rhen could not see their hands. She heard them begin to chant, their voices soft and musical like the songs of prayer the nessari sang to greet each morning.