The Sight of Blood: Rhen's Story

-5- The Beginning Stone

The next morning Rhen was given a bath and a clean shift to wear. Her mother brushed the tangles from her yellow hair and wove red ribbons into her braids. Rhen was only allowed to wear ribbons for special occasions. All the while her aunt Celane knelt in front of her and taught her how to speak to a Delerin Lord.

“You must look him in the eye when he speaks to you, and look down when you are speaking. Do not say anything unless he has asked you a question. This man is not an edran, so you must address him as ‘sahir’in.’ That means-“

“She does not need to know what it means, Celane,” Asara snapped. For some reason Rhen did not understand she had been unusually terse the entire morning. Celane merely nodded her consent. 

“As you say, Nessar’ithin. Forgive me.” She rose and left the room.

“Now.” Her mother turned Rhen around to face her and placed her hands on her shoulders. She smiled, but it was not a natural, easy smile like she usually gave. Rhen could tell she had been crying again. “Remember your manners, and do as your aunt Celane has told you.”

Rhen felt her stomach turn. “Will you be with me?”

“Of course, Sweetling. For as long as I am able.”

They walked through the central path in the gardens toward the temple. Rhen chanced a quick glance at one of the grates that looked down into the under-rooms, but the room below was empty. She wondered where the strange girl with the scales on her face had gone, or whether she had only been a dream.

They entered the temple and stepped into the very same courtyard that Rhen had snuck into the night of the ritual. Everything looked different, less forbidding, in the daylight. Moss grew between the cobblestones and flowering vines embraced the stone pillars. In the center circle there were two chairs. The Delerin envoy and two edran priests stood beside the chains that had held Rhen’s mother to the ground. The envoy made a gesture toward the chairs, inviting them both to sit. Rhen resisted the urge to swing her legs over the edge, her feet dangling several inches from the ground.

A small brazier had been set in the very center of the stone circle. Faint tendrils of sweet-smelling smoke trailed over the sides and wafted lazily along the cobblestones.

The envoy nodded to the priests, who lifted the chains from the ground and fastened the shackles once again to Asara’s wrists. She did not resist. For a moment Rhen was afraid they would chain her to the ground, too, but instead the envoy knelt before her and smiled.

“Your name is Rhen, is it not?” His voice was warm and clear like freshly brewed tea. Rhen nodded.

“And do you know where you are? What is the name of this place?” He gestured upward, his steely gray eyes fixed on her. Just past his face Rhen could see her mother watching her, smiling.

Rhen swallowed and did her best to sound polite. “This is the Forest Temple, Sahir’in.”

“Yes, very good. And do you know the purpose of the Forest Temple?”

She glanced at her mother, who ducked her head in an encouraging nod. Rhen shook her head, unsure. “To…it is the home of the nessari, Sahir’in.”

“The nessari are women who can perform magic, Rhen. Did you know that?”

Hesitating, she nodded. Her vision was beginning to blur, and she found it difficult to focus on anything around her.

The envoy’s expression did not change. “Magic is very dangerous. The priests go out into the world to find those who are born with magic, and bring them here. The Goddess of the Forest protects them. She keeps them from causing harm to themselves and to others. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Rhen said, breathing deeply. The air was sickly sweet, like one of the cakes she got sometimes from the kitchens. “You lock them away because you are afraid they will remember.”

The envoy frowned. Rhen’s words were met with looks of shock from the priests, and Rhen could see that her mother, too, had an expression of astonishment. Rhen blinked. She could not quite remember what she had just said, or why she had said it.

“The smoke, Sahir’in, it confuses the mind. She does not know what she is saying-” her mother began.

The envoy raised a hand to command silence. He never looked away from Rhen. “Remember what, child?”

Frightened now, Rhen shook her head. “I do not know.”

The elf’s expression had turned sour and imposing. Rhen was afraid of him and could see that her mother was, too. She began to cry. The envoy rose and beckoned to the priests, one of whom stepped forward. He was holding a small wooden box, which he handed to the Delerin lord. He opened it and pulled out a small round gem, clear but for a greenish hue.

“NO!” Rhen’s mother tugged at her chains, pleading and shouting for reasons Rhen could not understand. The envoy straightened and looked at her. His features were stiff as he stared, analyzing her in silence.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Please, not my daughter. She is new to this world and innocent.”

He grasped her by her chin, their faces mere inches from one another. Rhen could only sit there, too scared to move.

“Who. Are you?” he asked again, his voice reduced to a menacing hiss. Rhen’s mother spit in his face.

He did not lose composure, pausing only long enough to clear the phlegm from beneath his eye. “I will kill her, here, before your eyes. I will lock you beneath the ground with only your daughter’s corpse as company. You will spend your days hearing the cries of your sisters. Tell me your name.”

Her eyes began to glow with a yellow light that resembled sunlight on gold. The sky above them turned dark, but no trace of cloud could be seen. Sparks jumped from the nearby brazier and onto the robes of the priests, who hurried to staunch them. Rhen drew her knees to her chest, but in that moment she was not afraid. She felt warm and embraced, as though she was in her mother’s arms.

The envoy smiled, but this time is was a wry, satisfied smile. Rhen watched as he leaned in more closely, his slender curved ear positioned just before her mother’s lips as she whispered a single word. When she was done she looked normal again, and rays of sunlight streamed once more between the canopy of vines that hung above the courtyard. He let go of her now, closing his hand over the gem he held in his other hand. Straightening himself once more, he walked out of the circle toward the inner temple. His footsteps echoed against the stone.