on the off chance?
Either way, it was typical of him not to have warned the priests what he was planning; it made it all so very dramatic.
And there was probably some girl or boy who was supposed to have been Chosen, standing there in the crowd, surrounded by a family now wondering what the hells had happened. The priests no doubt had to exercise a lot of diplomacy in the next few days – but of course it worked to their advantage, in the end. After all, the legend had been proved, the gods had been shown to be capable of just choices.
Not that the Chosen in question had any say in the matter. And it didn’t occur to me then, or until some time later, that it was perhaps a little odd that one Avatar should pick out a priestess for another; that Babaska did not choose her own acolytes. I was an ignorant child, what did I know of the ways of Avatars and Gods?
CHAPTER FIVE
Day 2
5 days to Twomoon
I WAS IN the blue room when Flower came in with dishes and a scowl on, his apron askew.
“No sausages,” he said, dumping bowls of hot rolls and plates fluffily piled with eggs onto a table already loaded with fresh fruit, cream, butter, pastries and all the other things he considers essential to a good start to the day. “I don’t call that breakfast,” he said, regarding the laden table.
“It looks like breakfast to me.” I said, loading a plate. “What’s the matter?”
“The butcher hasn’t delivered . I had everything planned and now I’ve got to reorganise three days’ worth of menus before I go and shout at her.”
I patted his arm. “I’ll go have a word.” Flower wouldn’t shout at the butcher, but I would if I needed to. “I have to go out anyway, see if I can find anything on that girl.”
He handed me a list. “This is what I ordered. Mirril’s good, usually; used her for years. And if she hasn’t any black-backed hog, tell her I’ll take a haunch of red hopper instead.”
Previous was on the door again, arms folded, wearing a battered breastplate, ancient leather trousers and helmet, looking stolid and tough.
“Hey. Everything smooth?” I said.
“Yeah. Babylon? Can I take some time tonight? I know we’re close to Twomoon, but...”
“Sure, I’ll find someone for the door. Doing something nice?”
“Just meeting a friend,” she said, staring into the distance.
The blush crept up her neck like sunrise. That’s the trouble with being a redhead.
“Previous...” I said, grinning.
“What?”
“So? When are we going to get to meet him?”
“Dunno what you mean,” she said, scowling into the distance.
She’s a funny lass. She doesn’t do the upstairs work, that’s never been her style. Her having a hanger-on was new, and we were all wild to get a look at him.
“Ah, come on,” I said. “We won’t scare him off, promise. Bring him to dinner.”
“Maybe.”
“Please? Or Jivrais will end up following you, just so he can get a glimpse of your mystery man. You know what he’s like.”
“Like you aren’t as bad.”
“Just concerned for you, Previous. You know. Want to make sure he’s not taking advantage, you being such an innocent little thing...”
She called me something rude. “All right, all right. I’ll bring him over.”
I patted her cheek, and she growled at me.
The butcher was in Small Spell Street. Carcasses of every kind of beast – furred, skinned and scaled – hung in the window, different shades of blood dripping onto the scrubbed planks.
Unlike in most butcher’s shops, there wasn’t a fly to be seen; every board was scrubbed white and the scent of soap was almost as strong as the scent of meat. I could hear a faint, irregular squeak but I’d have bet my sword it wasn’t a mouse; I doubted one would dare venture here, for fear of death by scrubbing.
The squeak came from the counter, where a small, vaguely familiar-looking dark-skinned girl, about ten, with the shiny look of a polished apple and wearing an apron so
Either way, it was typical of him not to have warned the priests what he was planning; it made it all so very dramatic.
And there was probably some girl or boy who was supposed to have been Chosen, standing there in the crowd, surrounded by a family now wondering what the hells had happened. The priests no doubt had to exercise a lot of diplomacy in the next few days – but of course it worked to their advantage, in the end. After all, the legend had been proved, the gods had been shown to be capable of just choices.
Not that the Chosen in question had any say in the matter. And it didn’t occur to me then, or until some time later, that it was perhaps a little odd that one Avatar should pick out a priestess for another; that Babaska did not choose her own acolytes. I was an ignorant child, what did I know of the ways of Avatars and Gods?
CHAPTER FIVE
Day 2
5 days to Twomoon
I WAS IN the blue room when Flower came in with dishes and a scowl on, his apron askew.
“No sausages,” he said, dumping bowls of hot rolls and plates fluffily piled with eggs onto a table already loaded with fresh fruit, cream, butter, pastries and all the other things he considers essential to a good start to the day. “I don’t call that breakfast,” he said, regarding the laden table.
“It looks like breakfast to me.” I said, loading a plate. “What’s the matter?”
“The butcher hasn’t delivered . I had everything planned and now I’ve got to reorganise three days’ worth of menus before I go and shout at her.”
I patted his arm. “I’ll go have a word.” Flower wouldn’t shout at the butcher, but I would if I needed to. “I have to go out anyway, see if I can find anything on that girl.”
He handed me a list. “This is what I ordered. Mirril’s good, usually; used her for years. And if she hasn’t any black-backed hog, tell her I’ll take a haunch of red hopper instead.”
Previous was on the door again, arms folded, wearing a battered breastplate, ancient leather trousers and helmet, looking stolid and tough.
“Hey. Everything smooth?” I said.
“Yeah. Babylon? Can I take some time tonight? I know we’re close to Twomoon, but...”
“Sure, I’ll find someone for the door. Doing something nice?”
“Just meeting a friend,” she said, staring into the distance.
The blush crept up her neck like sunrise. That’s the trouble with being a redhead.
“Previous...” I said, grinning.
“What?”
“So? When are we going to get to meet him?”
“Dunno what you mean,” she said, scowling into the distance.
She’s a funny lass. She doesn’t do the upstairs work, that’s never been her style. Her having a hanger-on was new, and we were all wild to get a look at him.
“Ah, come on,” I said. “We won’t scare him off, promise. Bring him to dinner.”
“Maybe.”
“Please? Or Jivrais will end up following you, just so he can get a glimpse of your mystery man. You know what he’s like.”
“Like you aren’t as bad.”
“Just concerned for you, Previous. You know. Want to make sure he’s not taking advantage, you being such an innocent little thing...”
She called me something rude. “All right, all right. I’ll bring him over.”
I patted her cheek, and she growled at me.
The butcher was in Small Spell Street. Carcasses of every kind of beast – furred, skinned and scaled – hung in the window, different shades of blood dripping onto the scrubbed planks.
Unlike in most butcher’s shops, there wasn’t a fly to be seen; every board was scrubbed white and the scent of soap was almost as strong as the scent of meat. I could hear a faint, irregular squeak but I’d have bet my sword it wasn’t a mouse; I doubted one would dare venture here, for fear of death by scrubbing.
The squeak came from the counter, where a small, vaguely familiar-looking dark-skinned girl, about ten, with the shiny look of a polished apple and wearing an apron so
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