Chapter Five: Ceremonies

Callas' head ached. It was obviously going to be one of those mornings. "I'm just saying there's nothing we can do, Gaius. I should have been in Madrid two days ago. If I'm any later, they're going to think I'm not coming. We can't defeat Tennant, you saw what he did to that army. And if he doesn't kill the god, the council will know he's not on their side any more, and they'll kill him. Where, exactly, are you thinking we can help with this?"

The monk's face was stony, his mouth set in a stubborn line. "If there is a chance, we have to go try to help. Perhaps with some warning, something can be done."

"And, who, exactly, are you going to warn, Gaius? The priests of Airmid? I'm sure they know about the danger already and are taking steps. Let it go. We need Tennant where he is, for the moment."

"I can't. I'm going to stay in Copenhagen and see if I can do anything. I don't care if the rest of you go on ahead, I can catch up later."

She sighed. "Fine. I'll be in Madrid until the day after the solstice. If you haven't caught up with us by that time, we'll come back and look for you." Stubborn man. Quite possibly right, but still stubborn. But she'd spoken only the truth; she was several days overdue to arrive in Madrid. If she had to leave behind Gaius to do her duty to the Temple, well, what had to be had to be.

Riyor, rubbing his newly healed arm, said, "You're going to get yourself into trouble by yourself. I'll stay with you."

Callas tried not to let her dismay show on her face, but it crept into her voice anyway. "You're going to keep Gaius out of trouble? You've forgotten that trouble follows you around with a hopeful look on its face. Gaius might be better off alone."

"Hey! That's not fair, Callas."

A new voice sounded from behind Callas. She hadn't realized that Galvin had walked up to where they were arguing on the beach. "I'll stay with Gaius and Riyor. If nothing else, I can haul bodies back to Madrid if things really go wrong here."

She turned. Galvin was moving a bit stiffly, but he looked much better than he had. "Are you sure? You should be at the ceremony, you are my Second, after all."

"My presence isn't necessary. Yours is."

She had to agree with that one. "Just try to be back by the Solstice, all right? If Arumaga is going to attack the ceremony..."

There was a half-smile on Galvin's face. "We'll be there. By the way, I was told you are collecting these." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the amulet he'd been wearing when she'd found him. It spun lazily on the end of its chain.

Oddly, Callas suddenly felt as if she couldn't breathe properly. She wondered why such a simple offer would upset her. After all, it was perfectly reasonable for him to give it to her, since she had the other three.

And yet you found his presence in your mind comforting, that small voice within her that had been getting louder recently said. You felt what he felt when you woke him, after getting him down off the wall. And you're wondering if it was just gratitude or something else. She told the voice to shut up. But rather than accepting the amulet, as she'd fully intended to do, she said, "Why don't you keep it, Galvin? If we're both wearing one, at least we'll know if the other gets into serious trouble."

Now why on earth did I say that? It makes sense, but I was...oh, hang it, I'm not going to worry about it.

Galvin shrugged and put the amulet back in his pocket. "Good enough. There is one small problem about me going with Gaius and Riyor, though. I don't have a horse, I don't fancy walking to Copenhagen, and who the hell knows where my ship is at this point?"

Callas thought. "You can't really double up with either Gaius or Riyor. Why don't you take Spot? I can ride double with Gavião on Faidor, he's easily able to carry both of us. Besides, that way you'll have to come back. You'll need to return my mare to me, after all." She was trying for a lighthearted tease, but somehow it fell flat--she could see a flash of hurt in his eyes before he turned away from her.

"It's reasonable. And don't worry. I will indeed return Spot to you. Since she's so important to you, and all."

He strode swiftly away, leaving her completely baffled. Her friend had changed in the year since she'd spent much time around him, or perhaps was it that she wasn't used to him any more? She sighed and put his puzzling behavior from her mind. She went to check the horses; the others were breaking their minimal camp, and they could be off within the hour.

She was crouched, running her fingers down Spot's leg, when the mare snorted and pulled away from her, swishing her tail. She let go of the leg and looked behind her. Jaenus stood not three feet from her, in hybrid form once more. "Sorry. I scare horses."

"It's all right, I was almost done." She had to admit that currently she was sharing her mare's reaction to the werewolf. After last night, knowing how Jaenus felt about her, the were was altogether too close to her for comfort.

"Your knight is looking for you. Tell me, why does he follow you? You seem very young and inexperienced to be the alpha of this group."

"He is sworn to me, sworn to protect me. That means that he follows my command, except when his own commander contradicts those orders. Since his commander is currently four countries away, I'm it. And, since I was put in charge of my temple, I'm trying to learn how to lead."

The were's yellow eyes were thoughtful. "You have courage, priestess. I hope it's enough. Gavião's down the beach." She jerked her head, indicating the direction of the knight, and then walked off in the other direction without another word.

Callas leaned on Spot, grateful for the mare's warm bulk and comforting scent. In her mind, she saw again the scene that had been replaying itself every time she closed her eyes--Eresse's blank eyes reflecting a steel-grey sky, blood dark on her black muzzle. It could not have happened any differently. I could not have made any decision other than that. But, goddess...I wish it hadn't been me. I wish there could have been another way.

And another scene from earlier in the day flashed through her mind: Galvin, hanging from the wall in Malik's cave. The left side of his face a mass of bruises, old blood dried on his shirtless chest, the faint smell of septic wounds coming from him. Her orders, her fault. She should have known not to send him by himself. If she'd just told him to keep doing what he'd been doing, he wouldn't have been caught and tortured. She wondered, suddenly, what had happened to his crew. I am afraid I know. Malik probably killed all of them, just for fun. She licked her lips, wind-chapped and dry from the cold. She had rescued Galvin, and healed his physical wounds, but she was afraid that there were hurts that weren't merely of the body. I used to be able to tease him, and be teased back. We spent six years laughing with each other, during training. I hope Malik didn't kill that. It's always been my favorite thing about him, his laughter. Again, she saw Galvin's face, still and silent as she cleaned his wounds, his blood staining her hands.

She stared at her hands, which she had scrubbed clean again after the battle, but which still felt sticky. Callas remembered the terrible days right after she had executed Nara. She hadn't seemed to be able to get her hands clean then, either.

But Gavião had been looking for her, and she took a deep breath, patting Spot and going to find her knight. She was apprehensive about what the day might hold, but there was nothing to do about it but live through it.

At least tonight, we'll get to sleep in real beds again.

Seven hours later, Callas was considering the benefits of being on the road, even in the winter. Every time she turned around, there was one more person bobbing their head at her, one more person wanting something from her. She had been away too long, too many things had piled up during the void left by Ulan's death and then Callas' absence. She had a basket of scrolls and parchment waiting for her to deal with them, but every time she tried to bend her hand to that work, another person knocked on the door of her study, asking her a question.

Some of those questions were indeed important; the clerics of Sucellus needed dealing with, first of all. Epona's priestesses tended towards the hot-blooded and temperamental; faced with the cooler nature of Sucellus' people, there had been bafflement and misjudgment on both sides. Marcus Argayne, the Heirophant, was still nowhere to be found. The plague was continuing to spread, slowly. Callas, taking her pen in her hand once again, was suddenly missing Endraya intensely.

Endraya had been the cleric who had arrived one day and announced to her mother that she was taking the ten-year-old to the Temple to study. Callas had talked to her mother a number of times about going to study in the Temple of Sucellus, but they had lived almost fifty miles away from the nearest central Temple. She had despaired of finding a way to get there, but no sooner had she started thinking about asking passing merchants if she could hitch rides with them than a tiny, auburn-haired woman on a dark horse had come to the door, telling her mother that Callas needed to come with her.

Callas had been surprised to find herself on the way to the Temple of Epona rather than that of Sucellus, but accepted the change in plans with a light heart. Her first love had always been for the horses they used in the fields, rather than the fields themselves. Endraya had more or less adopted her, and Callas got along much better with her than she ever had with her real mother. I was always the one who was never quite what was expected. Maria and Jo, they were good girls. Me...not so much. Though she was somewhat disappointed when Callas' specialty turned out to be healing injury rather than illness, the two of them had made a good team when it had come time for her to do her novitiate rotation, traveling with Endraya around the French countryside, acting as traveling veterinarians. Endraya's specialty had been epidemics, like the plague.

But one night about a year and a half ago, Endraya had gone out to check on some ill horses and hadn't returned. At the edge of a stone circle that Callas, now she knew what they were for, recognized as a gate, was Endraya's hand and half of her forearm. The hand was clutching a pale green marble rod. A gate key, as she'd learned later. There had been very little blood. There never was, when a limb was cut off by a gate--all the blood happened inside the destination circle, as the body arrived without whatever part had been outside when the transit had begun.

But it had only been later that Callas had found out about all that. She grieved the disappearance and probable death of her teacher, pocketed the gate key and told nobody about it, and finished her rotation on her own. Since her life had gotten exciting almost two months ago now, she had barely thought about her teacher and surrogate mother...but back within Temple walls, the amount of work she had to do and the consequences of doing it badly both enormous, she wished she had her back. I miss her. Ah, goddess, do I ever miss her.

She put down her pen, pushing the parchment she had been writing on to the side and resting her head in her hands. There was a light knock on the doorframe; she'd started leaving the door open to avoid having to get up to open it every five minutes. She glanced up, trying to compose herself for yet another petitioner. "Yes?"

The person in the doorframe, looking at her with concern in his eyes, was Gavião. "Are you all right, lass?"

With a sigh, she let her shoulders droop. "Mostly. I'm overwhelmed. There's too much to do and not nearly enough time to do it in. I stayed away too long, Gavião. But I think I'll be able to work through it. How are things going on your end?"

"I've rounded up all the knights within easy riding distance, and called in a few favors with a mercenary company commander who I did some work for a while back. Everything will be ready the day after tomorrow, for the Solstice. I hope it's enough."

She nodded, mulling over plans in her mind. "I need to practice the chants I'm going to need to know, and go over the ceremony, but I should be ready by then. Some of this," she indicated the basket of letters and scrolls with a sweep of her hand, "is going to have to wait until after the ceremony."

"Probably." He looked at her face, pale under her tan. "Callas, have you eaten since we arrived today, at all?"

She gave him a weary smile. "Haven't had the chance. Well, that and I completely forgot."

"All right. You're going to come with me, we're going to convince the kitchen to make you something to eat, and you're going to get away from your scrolls for a while. And I'm going to tell everyone who wants to ask you a question to go away until tomorrow."

Callas chuckled. "That sounds like an order, Gavião."

"Are you arguing?"

"Hells, no. Let's go." She pushed her chair away from the table and was in the middle of rising when--

Dizziness, sweeping over her. A sound in the distance, as of a thousand great bells ringing, suddenly silenced. Callas' eyes widened and she staggered, collapsing back into her chair when she could no longer keep her feet.

Airmid, the god of the dead, is gone. It continues. The voice was sorrowful beyond measure.

The wave of dizziness passed, and Callas opened her eyes again. At least I didn't pass out this time. Perhaps because Airmid wasn't closely aligned with Epona. Gavião was standing over her, his hand on her shoulder. "Callas?"

"I'm fine. Looks like Gaius didn't stop Tennant."

"How's Galvin? I know he's got that amulet on."

She concentrated. Fear and frustration, buried under grief. But no pain, nothing that would indicate he'd been hurt in whatever happened. "He's upset, but not injured. Not yet, at least."

"Well, perhaps they'll be here tomorrow, then. Let's get you fed and away from your work for a while."

Callas nodded, pushing herself up from the chair. "Now that I think about it, I'm famished. Typical."

Barefoot, the dwarf walked along the halls of Epona's Temple. He moved with a grace uncharacteristic of Arnie, and he stuck close to the shadows, pausing every time he had to cross a brightly lit space. He was looking for something, not certain where he would find it. It had been twelve hundred years since Aiden had voluntarily been in a temple of any sort, and he didn't know where they kept what he was looking for.

The drow in the dwarf's body paused, listening. Booted feet, down around the corner. Clink of chain armor as someone moved restlessly. He reached out with his mind, caressing the surface thoughts of the two people he sensed down there, disturbing them only slightly.

One was thinking of a woman he had been to see right before his guard shift. Useless. Bloody humans. The other was more informative. He wasn't thinking about what he was guarding, but, if he went a little deeper...ah, there.

They two guards were standing before the rooms in which the treasures of Epona were kept. Just what the drow was looking for.

He walked around the corner, toward the guards. He stopped in front of them and they lowered their pikes, blocking his path. "I'm sorry, this area's off limits," the guard on the right said.

"I'm a friend of the Headmistress'. She sent me down here to get something. Let me pass."

The guard looked down at him, frowning. "The Headmistress would know well that she would have to accompany anyone who wasn't a Headmaster or the Purser themselves down here."

All right, we do this the hard way. He muttered under his breath and focused his mind. He spoke again. "But you saw me come in with the Headmistress, right? She's very busy right now. She couldn't come herself, so she sent me. I'm a close personal friend of the Headmistress, she would want you to let me in."

The guards both blinked. The one of the left relaxed first, and then the one on the right. "Are--are you sure? Because we're not supposed to...but if you're her friend, it must be all right." The guard who was speaking was fumbling at his waist, pulled off a ring with three keys on it. He used these to unlock the doors. "There you go. Just knock when you come back out and I'll let you out."

"Thank you, friends." He passed silently between them. Behind him the door closed, and he heard the key rattle in the lock. He grinned cheerfully. He was on a long corridor with doors coming off of it at regular intervals. On each door were symbols that he couldn't make any sense of. "Not very helpful of them, labeling the doors in something I can't read. I'll just have to try all of them."

He reached out for one of the door. A tingle in his fingertips as his hands approached the latch as all the warning he needed, and he snatched his fingers away. "Warded! Stupid clerics." He idly pulled on the dwarf's beard as he stared at the door, thinking. He could wake Arnie and let the dwarf explode the doors, but that would probably bring the whole Temple down on him before he could get what he wanted. He could get the guards to come in and open doors for him, but if someone happened by they would wonder why there was only one guard instead of two. Aiden didn't usually think about these things, but he really rather badly wanted the things he'd come in for. Not being interrupted was important.

Was there anything in the dwarf's pockets that might help? He frowned and began emptying out the pockets of the vest Arnie perpetually wore. Gum arabic, the last of Aiden's exploding gems, a fragment of a red dragon scale, a couple of pretty rocks, the end of a loaf of bread, dried meat, a few gold pieces, an Epona cleric's medallion, a single sock, bits of string...

Wait. Back up. Aiden sifted through the pile. He pulled out the cleric's medallion, which the sock had fallen on top of. He didn't know why the dwarf had a cleric's medallion, and at the moment he didn't care, because if he was right...

He held the medallion out towards the door, and reached for the latch with the other. No tingle this time, and the door unlatched and swung smoothly inwards. He grinned happily and stuck his head inside.

This room had weapons and armor in it. "Boring! Next!" The next room was filled with various pieces of jewelry--bits and bobs, all of it shining with jewels. Not quite so boring, but not what he was looking for.

The next was also boring, consisting of bins that were, on close inspection, filled with gold and platinum pieces. But the next was most certainly not boring. The next had gems in it.

Lots and lots of shiny sparkly gemstones, sorted by color and size (and, something about the dwarven brain he was lodged in said, relative value) were in small boxes on shelves in this room. Aiden giggled. "Shinies! Finally!"

He sifted through the boxes swiftly. He told the dwarven brain that was urging him towards the largest and shiniest of the gems to go do something anatomically improbable with itself, and went for the boxes that had the smaller gems in them.

He found several boxes of exactly what he wanted: gems a bit smaller than his smallest fingernail, mostly very clear, in varying colors. Aiden preferred diamonds, since they were the easiest to charge, but the rest--rubies, sapphires, and emeralds--were also acceptable. He filled two large pouches with them, completely emptying the boxes they were in. He then found a diamond and a ruby for Arnie, both the size of the end of his thumb, to forestall the complaints that Aiden never got him anything. He was, oddly enough, somewhat fond of the dwarf whose brain he was currently sharing.

He left the room, closing the door behind him. He put Arnie's stuff back into the dwarf's pockets, and knocked on the door to the corridor outside.

Rattle of keys and the door opened, the guard who'd opened the door frowning. "Hey, I don't think you're supposed to be in here. Who are you, again?"

He reached out with his mind to soothe the suspicions of both the guards. "Remember, I'm the Headmistress' friend, the one she sent down to get something? Right? You let me in not half an hour ago."

The guards blinked as they "remembered" the conversation that he'd had with them before. "Right...you were with Headmistress Callas. I remember now. All right, you can go."

Aiden walked down the hallway. At the place where the corridor made a turn, he looked back at the two men. He grasped their memories like so much fabric and, well, stretched them was the only way he could really describe it. He folded their memories of the evening, pinching together the current moment with the moment before he had turned the corner.

And with that, though somewhere deep in their minds they remembered the actual events of the evening, unless someone with a power equivalent to his was working on them, they would never remember that he had been there at all. He slipped away, careful not to let them hear his retreating footsteps.

As he climbed the stairs, back towards the main floors of the Temple, he muttered, "And that makes up for that girl giving MY shinies to that dragon. They were the best shinies I'd ever found. But these are almost as good. Even if there aren't so many of them."

A growl came from the depths of his mind. Your gems? Who, exactly, got them from that deep dragon, and who left his body behind in that cave? I believe that would be me and you, respectively. Which would make those MY gems.

Aiden considered this. "All right, your shinies. Go back to sleep, brother. I have work to do." The voice faded to the back of his brain and was gone.

As the short dwarf's legs climbed up towards the room he'd been given in the Temple's Tower, he hummed tunelessly to himself. Oh, yes, it had been a good evening.

A good evening indeed...

Callas, on the other hand, was not having a good evening.

"Maria, really. It took a few weeks for me to get the letter, and then we were busy taking care of some of the issues you'd listed. The letter didn't say anything about coming to Madrid! I came as soon as I could, and I'm in plenty of time for the ceremonies."

Maria was the one person that Gavião couldn't tell to go away. She was the Regional Headmistress for Spain, a small woman with dark, severely cut hair, her long nose and abrupt manner reminding all who knew her of a bird of prey. She was currently standing with her arms crossed in the corridor, having attempted to march Callas away with one hand on her arm. When Callas had balked, Maria had started her diatribe right there and then. She'd appealed silently to Gavião for help, but he just shook his head. Maria was just too high-ranking for him to hurry off like he could almost anyone else.

"That was exceedingly irresponsible, and you know it. There's no call for a Headmistress to be gallivanting around the countryside. You're here now, though, and we can start planning. With you here, we can make plans to strengthen the Temple--"

Callas shook her head. "You do realize that I'm leaving, at the very latest, two days after the solstice, right? There are things that need to be done, and since nobody else appears to be doing them, we're it."

"Your place is here. You're not going to go wandering around! You'll stay here."

"And do what?" Callas' voice was starting to gain an edge. "Wait for Morgan le Fay to kill Epona? Wait for summer to come and the plague to overtake us?"

"You do your job, and lead us! Let others take care of the people who are killing the gods, let Brigid's Temple worry about the plague. We don't have to worry about the world like you are! Ulan would never have been off running around like you are. Ulan was a good Headmistress. She's probably rolling in her grave right know, knowing the person who killed her is Headmistress now--"

"Ulan sold the Temple to the highest bidder! And you call that a good Headmistress? Let me tell you something about your precious Ulan, Maria." Callas was fighting to hold on to her temper, but her voice rose stridently, echoing down the hall. "Your Ulan sold her soul to the people who are killing the gods. She agreed to carry plague into our Temples, a plague so virulent that it would have killed most of us. What was left wouldn't have been able to hold together, and the Temple would have been no more. She was sabotaging us. Her death stopped what would have been a disaster for all of us."

Maria's voice had a sulky edge to it. "You can't know that."

"We caught her in the act, and we have the letters to back it up. Ulan was a traitor. I know she was your friend, but she would have killed you and everyone else--"

"You know nothing," hissed the Headmistress, her soprano voice cutting across Callas'. "You are nothing but a girl, and a troublemaker at that. You don't have what it takes to be a Headmistress, and your lies only make it worse. You should leave the running of the Temple to those who know what they're doing, because you certainly don't. Ulan kept us safe, and didn't worry about the world. You'd do well to follow her example, girl." She turned on her heel and stalked off.

Callas started after her, but Gavião said, "Let her go. You'll not change her mind, not tonight." She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. Gavião sighed. She probably shouldn't have brought up Maria's relationship with Ulan. What's done is done, though.

The knight steered his priestess towards the kitchens. With any luck, he could fend off any more interruptions.

He was not quite so lucky. Fortunately, the others arrived back at the Temple after he'd gotten Callas something to eat and herded her back towards the common room in the Tower that they'd commandeered when they had arrived that morning. Galvin, Gaius, and Riyor walked into the room, all of them looking dispirited and tired. Callas tried to rise, but Gavião told her, "Eat. And should I tell the kitchens to make something hot for you gentlemen?"

Galvin shook his head. "Just some mulled wine, if there's any on. We ate on the road back." He dropped into a chair, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and closed his eyes. "I hope you've had a better day than we had. We weren't successful, if you hadn't guessed."

Riyor had walked over to the fire and was holding his hands out, warming them. "Where's Arnie? I have a feeling this is a story we're only going to want to tell once." Gaius, seeming to agree, seated himself in the chair opposite Galvin, rubbing his temples with the thumb and forefinger of one hand."

"You know, I haven't seen him for hours. He wandered off after I started having everyone in the Temple coming to ask me questions. I'm afraid where we're sending people on novitiates and how to deal with the lands we've inherited from Sucellus aren't the most interesting topics in the world. Your day was more exciting than mine, at least."

"We could use with some boredom." Galvin's half-smile seemed to Callas almost an apology for his outburst that morning. "Our excitement was mostly unpleasant."

"Well, you didn't have to bring bodies back, at least." She heard the sound of a step in the corridor outside the room and turned.

Arnie walked in, humming tunelessly to himself. Callas narrowed her eyes. When the dwarf--either of the being who occupied the dwarf's body--was cheerful, something was usually wrong. He grinned at her. "Hi, priestess lady. I heard someone take the dwarf's name in vain."

"Hello, Aiden. We were just wondering where you and Arnie had gotten off to."

"Here and there, here and there. Is it story time?"

"I think so." Gavião had followed Aiden into the room, after finding a runner to get some mulled wine. There was always wine mulling on the hearths in the kitchen in the winter. "They'll send up some wine in a bit. I'd like to hear what happened today. We felt the god die, all the way over here."

Galvin shivered. "It's worse up close. Gaius, you want to start?"

The monk nodded. "We spoke to the priests of Airmid, who weren't willing to cancel the ceremony where the god would appear in his mortal form, but they'd would let us attend. They didn't believe us when they said that someone was out to kill their god. Of all of the stupid, stubborn--"

Galvin broke in. "It was only I and Gaius' statuses as religious functionaries that saved us from being thrown out. We were allowed to attend, but we had to stand in the back. Right after the ceremony started and Airmid arrived, one of the priests in front began to change form. It was--a dragon." He'd hesitated at that last, glancing at Riyor.

"It was Strawberries, is what the pirate means." Riyor said. "Evidently, she follows the money. Aren't mercenaries supposed to stay bought?"

"She did tell us to not consider her an ally," Callas pointed out. "So what happened?"

Galvin said, "Riyor had run into Strawberries in Copenhagen earlier that day, so we knew that she and Tennant were going to be there. By the way, the dress she bought with Arnie's gems is truly, ah, spectacular. You'll have to see it, some day."

Arnie's gruff voice rang out. "Wait a minute. Did you just say that the dragon bought a dress with my gems?"

"Er, yes."

"A dress. Typical. Damned dragons. Took MY gems and bought a stupid dress with them."

Gaius said, "If it makes you feel any better, the pirate's right. It really is a quite spectacular dress."

"What's so great about it?"

Gaius thought. "It's...ah...red. Very, very red. Wouldn't you say so, elf?"

Riyor was, unaccountably, blushing. Callas looked on in amazement as he searched for words. She'd never seen the glib elf without something to say before. "Ah...yes. It is indeed very...red. And, well...there's not really very much of it, especially on top..."

Galvin chuckled. "What both of them are saying that there had to be magic involved in it, because otherwise there are parts that she would probably prefer stay covered that, well, wouldn't. Quite defiant of gravity, that dress was. It's a good thing she's a fire-breather, because otherwise she would have been very cold." Irrationally, Callas felt a flash of something almost like jealousy at his words. What on earth? What do I have to be jealous about? Galvin glanced over at her, and Callas bit her lip. She'd forgotten they were both wearing the emotion-linking amulets, and he'd probably just felt her moment of insanity. She avoided his eyes, looking away from him.

"Anyway. At the ceremony, Tennant was there, also disguised as a priest. He had something in his hand, an orb control box, I think. We tried to go forward, to stop him, but Strawberries intervened and there really isn't any arguing with a dragon that size. He did something with the controls, and all of the magic in the area went down--including the lights. It was a big-deal ceremony, and they'd gone all out with the Light spells. There was an explosion--it sounded like a fireball--and Strawberries blocked the flames from hitting us with her wings. And at that point, something washed over me. I almost fell. Riyor and I were both dizzy, only Gaius was mostly unaffected--the priests had all fallen unconscious."

Gaius picked up the thread of the story. "I went to my knees, myself, but I wasn't quite as helpless as the others. I watched Tennant destroy the god's body, and then he went to pick up some things from the ground. They looked like those orbs we've been destroying. That's how they're killing the gods, by rendering their powers useless and then killing them while they're helpless. Remember, we found out that the person who holds the controls is immune to the magic-dampening effect?"

"It's really very clever. Diabolical, but clever." Galvin's voice was filled with fatigue. "Riyor and I recovered in time to see Tennant climb up to Strawberries' back--she was wearing a dragon-rider's harness--and she left. Through the roof of the Temple. Fortunately, the ceiling of the cathedral wasn't very substantial, else there would have been some dead priests. Before he left, Tennant looked down at me. He didn't say anything, just gave me this very strange smile, and he tossed two things down at us. These." He pulled two items out of the pouch he kept at his side. One was an orb, clear as glass but far less brittle, and the other was a wooden box, lacquered, with a small switch in the top.

He put these down on the table. "We failed. We left in something of a hurry, just in case someone thought of us and wondered how we knew that Tennant was going to attack today. We had to ride to the next closest gate, which is why we weren't back before."

Callas' eyes rested on her friend, his fatigue marking itself in the way he rubbed the collarbone she'd healed a day before. "Do you know who got Airmid's spheres?"

The corner of his mouth quirked. "Morrigan's the most closely aligned. Her, I think."

She sighed. "I was afraid of that. Death doesn't need any more worshippers."

Gavião said, into the silence that followed that remark, "You're forgetting something, Callas."

"What, pray tell?"

"Remember, Tennant said that the council is gaining the powers of the gods they kill?"

"And?"

"They can raise the dead. When we kill them, we have to be sure to destroy the bodies. Else we may find ourselves facing them more than once."

"That's not what I wanted to hear, Gavião."

He made a helpless gesture with his hand and the priestess laughed mirthlessly. A runner knocked at the door, bearing warm mulled wine and enough cups for all of them. They all had a cup's worth and then said their goodnights, Callas and Gavião off to the Headmaster's chambers, the rest to their rooms near the common room they were using.

All except Galvin, who nursed a second cup of wine for several hours, staring into the fire.

The next day was a whirl of preparation. Callas stayed immured in her chambers most of the day, learning her parts for the ceremony tomorrow. Now that Galvin was there, he could run interference for her, giving her the time she needed to get familiar with what she was going to have to say and do.

The heart of the ceremony was fairly simple. She would open the ceremony by leading a chant, give a brief speech to the trainees who were about to become novices, and then call each forward and give them their cleric symbol, the mark that they were a true priest of the faith. It had been decided that they would modify the ritual slightly, and allow each new novice to leave the circle after they were dedicated. The threat of Arumaga still loomed over them; Callas had had an uneasy dream the previous night featuring a white dragon pinning Gavião to a stone floor and tearing him quite literally in half.

Only nightmares, Goddess willing. Only nightmares.

Too soon, the day slipped away, and once again they were gathered in their common room, whiling away the evening with quiet activities; Gavião and Galvin were sharpening their swords, Aiden was in the corner, frowning at a handful of diamonds.

It occurred to Callas that Arnie hadn't had any gems to speak of after he'd given them all to the dragon. Maybe Riyor or someone gave him some more. She felt strangely reluctant to ask.

Riyor spoke, his voice filled with apprehension. "I say...that's not supposed to be happening, is it?"

They all looked up. There was a white mist creeping under the door, curling around the legs of the chairs, causing the room to fill with a chilly dampness. Gavião sniffed. "It's not smoke. Don't let it touch you, any of you." He scrambled up on the bench he had been sitting on, keeping clear of the mist.

Callas gathered her wits and reached for one of her spells with her mind, one of the few she could cast without word or motion. She released her Dispel at the mist, but instead of dispersing, it curled up around itself, puddling in the middle of the room. She cursed quietly.

Something emerged from the mist. Everyone in the room blinked as a scabbarded sword rose from the center of the puddle of mist, emerging point-first and then rotating so it was parallel to the floor.

Callas glanced at Gavião. "Is it evil?"

He shook his head. "No. It might not be good, but it's not evil."

A voice sounded in all of their minds. I seek the Bearer. Who will step forward to take me up? Who would rule Heaven and Earth?

They glanced at each other. "Did you hear--"

"Yes, I heard."

"Oh, good."

They all stared at the sword, floating above the mist. Again it repeated, I seek the Bearer.

Arnie scratched his beard contemplatively. "I don't think it's going to go away." He tilted his head as if listening to something. "Aiden says its name is Excalibur, and it is definitely not going to go away. Someone is going to have to take it or it's going to sit there being annoying all night."

The group looked at each other again. Seconds of silence stretched into a minute, punctuated by the sword's repeated demands for a Bearer.

Finally, Callas, jumped down off the chair she'd been crouched on. Gavião said warningly, "Callas--"

"If nobody else is going to take it, I will." She waded through the mist towards the sword. "It's not going away, and we can't just sit here staring at it all night." Two more long strides and she was within reach. Gavião made a strangled sound as she reached for the hilt. She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a half-smile. And with both hands, she reached out and grasped the hilt.

A very odd feeling swept over her, as if something ancient were scrutinizing her. She felt very small, as if she were being judged and found lacking.

The voice of the sword spoke again. You are not the Bearer. You are already geased. But you have accepted the geas, even if you cannot fulfill it. You have a suitable Bearer sworn to you. I will accept Sir Gavião Nobre. The sword suddenly became heavy in her hands, and she slid one hand to mid-scabbard to support the huge sword's length.

Callas' eyes were wide with shock. Slowly, she turned, facing Gavião. She said, shakily, "It says...the geas..."

Gavião's eyes were dark flint. "I heard, Headmistress." His use of her title steadied her, reminding her of their formal relationship. "The sword, if you please?"

Her breath snagged in her throat, but she reversed the sword and offered it hilt-first to the knight. He took it from her and weighed it in his hands. "It's a good sword. Well-balanced. Too heavy for you, Callas. Probably a good thing I'm to be the Bearer." He looked at the mist, which was rapidly dispersing. His voice was dry as he surveyed the sword, running out about a foot of the blade from the scabbard and sliding it back in again with a whisper of sun-forged steel. "Bastard sword. It'll clear almost five feet. Awkward for close work, but nothing's better when you need reach instead of precision. Arnjolt, does Aiden know what its other properties are?"

"I'll tell you myself, thanks. This passing messages is bloody awkward, if you ask me. The story of Excalibur is a very long and mostly boring one. Well, the sword thinks it's interesting, but it's full of honor and glory and all that stuff. The gist is that the sword makes the bearer able to fight after they would otherwise be unconscious, and it cuts through any armor like--that can't be right. Really? Bizarre. It says it cuts through any armor like butter. And if you'll excuse me, the stupid thing is very boring and I'm not talking to it any more." The drow in the dwarf's body slumped back into the chair he'd been sitting in, going back to staring at his gemstones.

Gavião laid the sword down on the table, looking at the plain, wire-wrapped hilt. "I wish I knew who gave it to us. And why. It didn't come here on its own, no matter what it claims about seeking a bearer."

Callas' voice was distant, as if she were remembering something from long ago. "In the stories, the Lady of the Lake was charged with the keeping of Excalibur and the protection of the isle of Avalon. My father told me that he thought that the Lady of the Lake was another name for Shannon, the goddess of rivers and lakes. Avalon was the heart of her worship, like Madrid is for us. And, sometimes, the goddess Shannon will appear as a cloud or a mist."

"But what Shannon has to do with us...doesn't she have her own champions?"

"Shannon's people are recluses and hermits. No, she probably doesn't. But why us, I'd like to know. Isn't there anyone else?"

The knight was still gazing down at the sword, a hand on its scabbard. "I rather think, Callas, that at this point...there isn't."

None of them spoke after that, for a very long time.

Solstice morning dawned bright, clear, and cold. The entire Temple was in an uproar, making last-minute preparations for the initiation ceremony and the celebratory feast that was to follow.

Callas was having a Headmaster coat that had originally belonged to a male Headmaster about eighty years ago hemmed. The seamstresses who worked for the Temple were working on making her a coat of her own that would fit correctly, but it wouldn't be ready for until the day after tomorrow, too late for the ceremony. Fortunately, Callas was tall and broad-shouldered enough that with a little alteration, Headmaster Vertun's coat would fit her well enough. Good thing we never throw coats away unless they're truly past saving, Callas thought.

She looked into the long glass mirror, one of the Temple's more precious possessions, with a sense of foreboding. She surveyed herself as she'd rarely had the chance to do, since there were few enough mirrors in the Temple and she hadn't had access to one at all while on the road. She was very tall for a woman, three inches shy of six feet, and the constant work of her training had made her as broad-shouldered as many of the boys in her class. Her features were mostly too sharp for prettiness and not quite well enough arranged for beauty, except for her eyes, which were an odd dark green color in a spare setting of lashes the same lightless black as her hair.

She raised a hand to her hair to smooth back a stray wisp that had gotten loose from her braid somehow, and the seamstress who was busily pinning and sewing the hem of her coat snapped, "I told you, don't move! Honestly." Callas put her hand hastily back down, abashed. It was like being back in her trainee class.

Finally, the seamstress pronounced the coat done, and unpinned the hem, turning her loose to go check on the final preparations for the ceremony. The trainees to be initiated were being given last-minute instruction from Gavião, something to the effect of "If we're attacked, drop into Sanctuary and run like hell." They had about thirty knights and another twenty mercenaries standing guard today. Let it be enough. She paused and looked a bit closer at Gavião. There was something different about him, something odd, and she wasn't sure what. After a moment of not being able to articulate what, exactly, she was noticing, she shrugged and continued on her way to the ritual circle. There was about a half hour until the ceremony was to start, and she wanted to make sure that the last of the preparations were under way.

The ritual circle was set on a hilltop overlooking Madrid, surrounded by trees on three sides. The circle's edges were demarcated by rows of knee-high stones, set far enough apart that even the largest horse would have no trouble passing through them. About sixty feet across, the circle was meant for the high rituals that most of the Temple here, as well as some visitors from other Temples, would attend.

Initiates had been arriving for the last two weeks from the regional Temples, accompanied by senior members of their home Temples. In the case of the German Temple, that senior member had been the German Headmaster, a small, somewhat elderly man named Tol. She had met him that morning, and had almost immediately liked him; he had a sharp mind and an even sharper eye, and he'd evidenced a dry sense of humor.

Horses wandered freely in the circle, nibbling at the short grass and occasionally rolling, scratching itches. Most of these were the familiars of various Epona clerics. There were several she didn't recognize right off, but she assumed that they belonged to the visiting priests.

She stooped by one of the stones that marked the perimeter of the circle, holding her hand about six inches from the stone. A hum and a buzzing feeling coming from the stone told her that the circle was charged and ready to go. That's the last of it. All there's left to do is wait. She busied herself directing arriving priests to their places, keeping an eye on the sky. The ceremony was scheduled to start when the sun reached its zenith, as high as it was going to get that day.

And, finally, the ritual began.

Callas stood before the altar, Galvin beside her, Gavião to her other side. Her eyes scanned the crowd, picking out the rest of her friends, across the circle from her. She raised her arms and began to chant, her rough alto voice carrying down the hillside to the Temple. After a few moments, Galvin's clear tenor joined hers, and then the rest of the assembled priests joined in the Call.

From the Temple below, a line of brown-coated trainees climbed, singing the Answer to the Call.

They reached the circle and came in. The Call ceased, but the trainees kept singing their Answer until each of them was in the circle, kneeling on the winter-hard ground. Fifty-four trainees in total waited for her words. Callas took a breath and hoped beyond hope that the words she was about to speak would come out in the same order she'd composed them in.

"Trainees, you have all spent five years of your life working towards this moment, when you would stand before the Goddess and affirm your choice to spend your lives in Her service. Each of you has proved competent in our arts, and each of you has worked tirelessly towards this goal. But this is the end of one thing only: your lives as trainees. This is the true beginning, and many of you will work harder as priests than you ever have in your lives.

"It is not an easy life we lead, and you'll find that your training only prepares you for a portion. The rest, we all have to learn by doing. But you have come this far. This is the final step out of your old lives and into Epona's service. Be warned that She leaves none of us unchanged. But if you still choose to Answer the Call, then step forward when I call your name."

She took a breath. The next part, the names, had been the hardest thing for her to memorize. She hoped she remembered them all. "Alexi Smithsson, you are Called to Service."

Alexi, a dark young man of medium height, stood and strode towards her. She asked him, "What do you answer Her Call with, Alexi?"

The trainee replied, ritual words as old as the Temple. "Yes, I will serve, with all the strength in my body and soul."

She replied, "Then welcome to Service, Alexi Smithsson, Priest of Epona." Galvin handed her a pendant on a chain, which she draped around the new priest's neck. In the winter sunlight, the symbol of Epona gleamed, golden horse against an emerald green background, footed on a sheaf of wheat.

Alexi bowed and retreated. Usually, he would have gone off to the side, but the ritual today had been modified, and he left the circle to go back down to the Temple.

Callas called the next name, and the next. "Maria Ellemere...Brianna Shipwright...Peter O'Murchadha...August Landry..." One by one, the trainees came forward to receive their cleric symbols and be sworn into service.

After about the twentieth trainee had been called, Callas started to relax. Perhaps Arumaga had decided not to come after all. Perhaps she'd get through this ceremony without incident.

They were, unfortunately, not so lucky.

She was a bit more than halfway through the list of trainees when she felt Galvin stiffen beside her. She paused before she called the name of Jonas Xerxes, wondering what was wrong.

The shocked looks on the faces of the trainees still present caused her to take a swift glance over her shoulder. Behind her, a shimmering door opened, and out of it poured people. It took a moment for Callas to identify those appearing as followers of Morrigan, armed with her trademark double-headed axe.

Gavião shouted, in his best battlefield commander's voice, "Run! Trainees, get out of here!" Callas was backing away, Galvin at her side, she freeing her staff from where it had been strapped to her back and Galvin unsheathing his swords. Her other companions were running towards them, freeing their own weapons, and the knights were beginning to turn their horses towards the shimmering door and the followers of Morrigan.

And a shape flowed out of the door, seeming to stretch the outlines of the hole in the air. A massive head, brilliant white in the sunlight. It opened its mouth.

And white death blasted what had been a ritual circle and was now a battlefield.

Screams rent the chill air as trainees, priests, horses and knights alike fell beneath the icy blast of white dragon breath. The knights still standing knew their jobs well, running on foot towards the door and the dragon's head. Callas had flattened herself to the ground in the nick of time, the dragon's breath passing over her head.

All eyes were riveted on the white dragon and the Morrigan followers. The warriors immediately engaged all of the knights that they could, sweeping swords aside with their axes. Callas, swiftly casting a spell that would call down fire from the heavens, saw Gavião sweep Excalibur through one of the black-armored warriors, the wounded man falling to his knees, hands futilely attempting to keep his intestines from spilling out. Galvin was fending off another warrior, Riyor was trying to distract a couple of them who'd gone after the fleeing trainees. Gaius was fighting what appeared to be a monk of Morrigan, and Callas, even as she loosed her flame on the dragon's head, groaned as she saw Gaius fall to a blow from the monk's bare hand. The monk drew a knife, obviously wanting to finish the job, and Callas took the ten long steps to try to at least fend off the monk's final blow.

When he saw the Headmistress bearing down on him, the monk gave her a wry smile and a mocking bow. He stood, sheathed his knife, and walked away. Callas was confused but wasn't about to argue with an enemy leaving her alone. A quick check of Gaius revealed that he was merely unconscious, not dead, and as she looked around, she decided that she'd best get him off the battlefield, lest another enemy decide to make sure of the fallen.

She picked Gaius up in a fireman's carry and began to stride from the circle, heading towards a spot where a number of clerics had gathered, casting spells and keeping some of those that had fallen safe from further injury. She heard the trumpeting calls of battle steeds as they chased Morrigan warriors, the link between the steeds and their knights keeping the mounts steady. She saw, briefly, Gavião's Faidor lashing out with a great hoof, caving in the ribcage of an enemy who had tried to slash his hamstrings.

Finally, the knights broke free of the line of enemy warriors, reaching the white dragon's head. The first knight to arrive brought his sword down on the dragon's nose, obviously hoping to bury the weapon in its sensitive muzzle.

But instead of the crunch of bone, the sword whistled through nothing but air on its way to bury itself in the bare earth.

Callas froze.

Illusion. Distraction. Believe illusions, and you die a real death.

Oh, goddess, where is the real dragon--

A horse at the other side of the circle screamed and reared, its shape blooming, sprouting wings and expanding upwards, taking on the shimmering white of freshly fallen snow. For the second time in her life, Callas had the opportunity to reflect that the dragons were perhaps one of the most beautiful creatures known to the world, and on of the most terrifying. Arumaga was a bit smaller than Strawberries, but he was still well over a hundred feet from nose to tail, and his white wings threw shadows over the whole battlefield, blocking out the sun.

And beside him, more warriors. And something that until this day Callas had assumed was only a legend, a story meant to scare gullible children. A tall humanoid, near-skeletal in build, robed in darkness and with a head straight out of Callas' worst nightmares--smooth, grey, with writhing tentacles surrounding the place where its mouth should be.

An illithid. Mind-flayer, brain-eater.

Three of the warriors had something in their hands, something familiar, catching the morning light. Each had an orb, and each threw it--one at Arnie, one at Riyor, and one at Gavião. Riyor caught the one thrown at him, managing to avoid it coming in contact with either of his artifacts. Arnie tried to catch the one thrown at him but misjudged, the orb hitting him on the head, right between the eyes, knocking him backwards. Gavião wasn't nearly as lucky as the other two. A hand raised automatically to ward off the blow and the orb smashed into the glove he was wearing--Magarac's Gloves, that provided immunity to all fire. Both of the gloves and the orb exploded with a silent shimmer of golden flame and disappeared. The knight swore a vehement oath, adjusting his grip on Excalibur but otherwise barely pausing in his exchange of blows with the next Morrigan warrior who came his way.

Callas saw the dragon look at her, and for a moment something almost like recognition flickered in the dragon's white eyes. And then they went blank again, the great chest deepening with an intake of air, and the priestess realized that he was about to use his breath weapon on the battle at large. She heard a shout from where the shimmering door had just flickered out of existence--Gavião, warning her to get out of the way--

There's no time.

A split-second decision made and she dropped Gaius' unconscious form on the ground, covering him with her own body as much as she could.

The world was suddenly nothing but ice and cold and pain.

Callas found herself on the ground, cheek pressed against the cold earth. She wondered briefly what she was doing there, and why she hurt so badly. But it wasn't so bad. Almost comfortable. Gaius lay next to her, his eyes closed. Silly man, to take a nap in the middle of a battle. A nap sounded nice, actually. Her eyelids were heavy and though she was trying to stay awake, they were sliding closed of their own accord.

She should try to get up. But she hurt so badly. If she moved, she would hurt more. A familiar tenor sounded from somewhere above her. "Oh, no, you don't, my girl. You aren't going to die on us today." A hand on her shoulder--she almost screamed as a white sunburst of pain radiated from the contact--and she felt tendrils of energy race through her, repairing skin torn from her by the dragon's breath.

The hand lifted away from her shoulder and she rolled over and sat up, looking into Galvin's eyes. "Thanks. Take care of Gaius--where's Gavião?" Galvin jerked his head towards the dragon and transferred his attention to the unconscious monk, going into a healing trance, trying to at least bring him round.

The illithid had Arnie in its grasp, the dwarf struggling to free himself from the tentacles that were trying to get a purchase on his face. A brace of daggers sprouted from the illithid's shoulders, Riyor's specialty coming in handy once again, but the creature ignored its injuries and concentrated on the dwarf. The battlefield was nothing but confusion, the dragon ignoring the blows it was taking from spells and swords, appearing to be looking for something.

Gavião was shouting orders, the knights obeying him without thought, priests scrambling out from underfoot. The mercenaries that Gavião had called in favors with were guarding the clump of priests who were trying to heal the wounded that they'd managed to drag off the ritual circle turned battlefield.

A priestess screamed and fell as one of the Morrigan warriors caught her from behind, slicing through her spine, that wickedly sharp axe glistening with blood. Callas stood frozen for a moment, listening to the screams, before her battle instincts kicked in once again. Ignore the sights, the sounds, the blood. If you hesitate, you will be killed. Action, not reaction. She ran to help Arnie get free of the illithid, hoping that Gavião was doing all right. She used the butt of the staff to smack the gangly illithid in the spot where humans kept their kidneys, trying to break its concentration. She growled as the illithid completely ignored her, reversing the staff and trying to hit the spot where there was a bundle of nerves between shoulders and neck. "Let GO of him, you goddess-damned abomination, and go BACK to whichever of the hells spawned you!"

The dragon roared. Callas turned, raising the staff in front of her.

In Arumaga's front claws were a pair of priests, both male, both trainees that she hadn't gotten the chance to initiate. She stared uncomprehendingly as the dragon leaped into the air, great wings slamming outward and catching the heavy body with a downward sweep, pulling it towards the sky. Drops of bright blood flew from the dragon's flanks as he winged upwards, the wounds the knights had inflicted bleeding freely but not seeming to impede it at all.

Callas felt something ancient looking out of her eyes, a presence so powerful yet so helpless, grieving. That voice opened Callas' mouth for her, and a voice burst out of her throat that was not hers.

The voice of the goddess screamed, "NO--"

The sorrow weighed Callas down, pressing on her shoulders, causing her to bow her head and lean on her staff for support. Behind her, Riyor slammed a dagger into the back of the illithid's neck, angling the blade upwards deep into its brain. The creature crumpled, releasing Arnie, who staggered away holding his head.

The eyes of the enemy warriors who were left were curiously blank. They all raised their swords and stopped fighting, backing away from their opponents.

As one, each of them set their swords against their chests and fell forward. And in unison, the swords tore through their bodies.

As one, the warriors shuddered and died.

There was a moment of utter silence in the ritual circle as all who were left standing tried to understand what had just happened.

A low moan from one of the wounded recalled them all to themselves, and realizing that the fight was over, the work of the aftermath of battle began.

The priests who were still standing and had spells began to fan out among the fallen, binding wounds and closing the eyes of the dead. Callas brushed her hair back from her face, leaving a smear of mud on one cheek. She checked her friends--Gavião was wounded but had already healed himself enough to keep functioning, Arnie was shaken but mostly unharmed, and the rest, other than Gaius, had escaped serious injury--and then joined the rest of her Temple in the work of cleaning up the ritual circle that had become a battlefield.

Callas worked, Galvin beside her, until she was wrung completely dry of magic. After she ran out of healing to give, she helped carry the dead into the Temple, laying out the bodies in neat rows in the courtyard. There were horses that had died, also, and they were laid out in the courtyard along with the human casualties.

It came as a surprise when she made what seemed like her hundredth trip back up to the circle and found that there were no more dead or wounded laying in the circle. She stood, looking around numbly, and then stumbled to the nearest tree, leaning against it.

She could see her breath in the light of the setting sun, curling out in clouds of vapor from her mouth. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but only succeeded in making herself dizzy.

There was a hand on her shoulder, and she turned. Gavião stood next to her, his own eyes dark with fatigue. Silently, the knight gathered her into his arms, holding her as she leaned on him. After a moment, she took a deep breath and pulled away from him. "Thanks." She looked away from him, over the churned-up mud of the circle. "Did you see who was taking down the names of the dead?"

"Maria was, I think, why?"

The priestess grimaced. "I have letters to write. Tonight."

Gavião shook his head. "Lass, I think it can wait until tomorrow. You're in no shape to do it now."

She continued to stare at the torn ground, stained with the blood of enemy and friend alike. "I can't put it off. Those letters need to be dispatched in the morning. The ones who died today...the trainees, especially. Their families need to know that they won't be home in the spring, helping to tend the herds and the wild things. They need to know what happened. We failed, Gavião. We lost. They won, today."

Gavião frowned but didn't argue. He watched Callas gather herself, and without another word to him she walked away, down the path that led back to the Temple. His heart ached for his charge, but he knew she was right. Those letters did need to be written, and sooner rather than later. And she was the one who would need to write them.

Poor thing. What a way to learn one of the hardest lessons of all. The knight remembered the first time someone in his command had died because of a decision he had made. The letters, written to family members of the fallen, were a peculiar form of penance, an attempt to make something--anything--right with the universe.

He looked up into the quickly darkening sky. Arumaga. We're coming for you. Sooner or later, you'll taste Excalibur's steel.

Preferably sooner rather than later. I know your blood now, dragon. I know it well indeed.

Callas retrieved the list of names from Maria, who surprised her by giving it to her without argument, without even a comment. She was walking towards the stairs that led into the Tower when a voice sounded behind her. "Headmistress? A moment, if you please?"

She turned. It was Tol, the German Headmaster. What now? "Yes, Headmaster? What can I do for you?"

"We're both tired, so I won't take up any more time than necessary. But you need to know this, Headmistress. I trained both of the trainees who were taken by the dragon. I know why they were stolen."

"You do? Why?"

"The boys--Dracius and Cathar were their names--they're twins. And both of them are Epona's children."

The Headmaster's words fell on her numb mind. She shared at him, not comprehending. "You don't mean that like it's usually meant, that we're all Her children, do you?"

"They are the children of the goddess Epona's body, fathered by a mortal man, given to us to raise eighteen years ago. Until today, I thought I was the only one who was aware of their parentage. Evidently, the dragon knew, as well."

She raised a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes. "Dear goddess. Her children. I didn't think she had any currently living."

"Our dear deity has certain habits that we try not to make too public. She spends quite a bit of time on this plane, and she is very fond..."

"...of the company of certain mortals, I know. So the question is, what did the dragon want with them? At least they've been captured, so they probably won't be killed right away."

"If you need any help, Headmistress, please, let me know. I helped raise those boys. It kills me to know that I may have let them come to harm."

"Please, Headmaster, call me Callas. And I will let you know as soon as I do if you can help."

He gave her a gentle smile. "Very well, Callas. And I will let you go on your way. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Tol."

She climbed the stairs into the Tower, her heart heavy. Someone had been in and lit the fire and the lamps, so her chambers were warm and bright. It was a small comfort, but comfort it was.

From the Journal of Callas de Navarre
dated 12/21/1347

...and now I'm writing the letters. The paladins were mostly easy; many of them don't have families, and the ones who do would probably be glad to know that their children or husbands or wives died as they lived; bravely, in battle, fighting for what they believed in.

The hard ones are the novices, the ones who, more often than not, were expected to be back in their home villages by the spring, serving the herds and the wild things. We lost too many today. One would have been too many. Nine of these letters is more than I want to write in this or any other lifetime.

I am too tired for anger, too tired for anything but sorrow.

Tomorrow, we cleanse and rehallow the hilltop, and I'll need to set some things in order here. The day after, who knows? Perhaps we'll know enough to attempt to get the two clerics that were kidnapped by the dragon back. I haven't said more than three or four words to the others since the battle, after I found out that everyone was all right, so I'm not sure exactly what our priorities are now.

I need to write two last letters, and then I'm done for the night.

Maybe I'll go out into the courtyard, and look at the stars. Maybe I'll go sleep in Spot's stall tonight. I think I probably need the company, right about now.

I'll go back to having hope tomorrow, but I can't muster the energy tonight.

--Callas

12/21/1347

Dear Elizabeth and Gregory Boatwright,

Your daughter Brianna was initiated into the temple of Epona today, after showing great promise as a trainee. But I regret to inform you that there was an attack during the solstice ceremony. The dark forces that are gathering disrupted the ceremony. Among them was a dragon, who killed a number of novices, full priests, and knights.

Your daughter was one of those killed. She died bravely, fighting all the way. I am so very sorry. Words cannot express it.

We will find those who did this, and we will bring them to justice. You have my word on this.

Callas de Navarre, Headmistress, Order of Epona

Callas put the last letter aside, on top of the stack ready for her seal.

She stood, picking up the staff that never left her side now. She blew out the lamps, darkening the room, and walked out, through the room that belonged to Gavião, into the corridor.

At the top of the stairs she paused, looking down. She couldn't hear any familiar voices. She glanced out the window, seeing the stars glitter in the mercilessly clear sky.

The words rose out of her unbidden. "So much blood on my hands. And there will be so much more, before this is done."

She walked down the stairs, the darkness swallowing her whole.

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