priests and priestesses saw to the sick and to those in need of care.
It was a place of peace, something Eres hadn’t known since she’d been a child. Stepping inside the temple, she looked up into the serene face of the Great Goddess, the mother Goddess, Isis. Her statue was so beautiful, so real, that it looked as if she might step down from her pedestal to lay her hand on Eres’s head in benediction. A benediction she felt as an ephemeral caress.
A soft breath of awe escaped her.
Once more, all activity within came to a standstill as she walked to the altar, knelt before it, although she was as oblivious to it this time as the last. She laid her swords at Isis’s feet and sat back on her heels to wait. She slipped her hand inside the basket beside her to pet the cubs. Each seized on a finger to suckle. They were hungry, but she had nothing to feed them. Not yet. Her heart opened to them, to those tiny lives within the rushes.
Quietly, one of the priestesses slipped away.
A woman came to kneel beside her, clearly a priestess and a woman of great power. Her skin was dark, much darker than some of the other folk Eres had seen but her features were soft and warm, rounded, beautiful in their own way. Her eyes were the clearest green and lovely. She was dressed simply but well, her jewelry fine. Precious gold sparkled at her throat and ears.
Smiling, the woman looked at Eres and said, softly, “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Almost defensively, Eres said, “I’m a warrior. I know nothing of love or of magic…”
“Don’t you?” the priestess said, as she reached into the basket to stroke one furry little head.
In the Priestess’s eyes, Eres could see compassion, warmth…and a great sorrow.
“Do you think Isis doesn’t need warriors to defend those she loves? You are welcome here,” the woman said. “I am Banafrit, High Priestess.”
With a gesture, Banafrit summoned the priestesses and priests, to give Eres welcome. They surrounded her.
“I’m a slave…” Eres said.
Banafrit nodded, her eyes shadowing.
“To the Grand Vizier, to Kamenwati. This we know. But no longer. He will be informed that Isis has accepted you into her service.”
Relief at escaping Kamenwati’s presence and plans was such a great tide through Eres that she very nearly wept.
Kamenwati. Banafrit hid a shudder at the thought of him.
She’d heard talk of him, of the things he did to raise power. Of dark magic, She’d tried to warn the King, to no avail. Kamenwati was his beloved cousin. All the priests and priestesses could do was to increase their protections on the King and warn his guards. Those things had been done. All they could do was wait until Kamenwati showed his hand.
Her mouth tightened.
Banafrit stroked a hand down the girl’s long golden hair, the ripples of it soft beneath her palm. The color was striking. It was like caressing warmed silk, as if it trapped the heat of Ra’s sun in the curling, sunny lengths of it.
As for the girl, she’d been the talk of Thebes for some time. Few didn’t know of her, the foreign warrior with hair the color of sunlight and eyes like the sky whom no man could best in the ring.
Had that to do with the prophecy?
A darkness rises in the desert, the golden one who would come, a warrior, a servant to the Gods…?
She looked at this girl, at the brilliant ripples of her hair, at her pale golden skin…was this the one? Was the time now?
The thought made Banafrit want to weep. She prayed not.
Feeling the touch of the Goddess on her, gentle and loving, her heart trembled a little. It was that time, but not yet. This one had a great deal to learn. There was time. Time to teach her what she would need to know in the days to come.
To look on this girl with her golden hair, her pale skin and those eyes…the colors of the Sky Goddess herself…
“We shall call you Irisi – fashioned by Isis,” Banafrit said. “And Nubiti.” The golden one.
Startled, Eres looked
It was a place of peace, something Eres hadn’t known since she’d been a child. Stepping inside the temple, she looked up into the serene face of the Great Goddess, the mother Goddess, Isis. Her statue was so beautiful, so real, that it looked as if she might step down from her pedestal to lay her hand on Eres’s head in benediction. A benediction she felt as an ephemeral caress.
A soft breath of awe escaped her.
Once more, all activity within came to a standstill as she walked to the altar, knelt before it, although she was as oblivious to it this time as the last. She laid her swords at Isis’s feet and sat back on her heels to wait. She slipped her hand inside the basket beside her to pet the cubs. Each seized on a finger to suckle. They were hungry, but she had nothing to feed them. Not yet. Her heart opened to them, to those tiny lives within the rushes.
Quietly, one of the priestesses slipped away.
A woman came to kneel beside her, clearly a priestess and a woman of great power. Her skin was dark, much darker than some of the other folk Eres had seen but her features were soft and warm, rounded, beautiful in their own way. Her eyes were the clearest green and lovely. She was dressed simply but well, her jewelry fine. Precious gold sparkled at her throat and ears.
Smiling, the woman looked at Eres and said, softly, “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Almost defensively, Eres said, “I’m a warrior. I know nothing of love or of magic…”
“Don’t you?” the priestess said, as she reached into the basket to stroke one furry little head.
In the Priestess’s eyes, Eres could see compassion, warmth…and a great sorrow.
“Do you think Isis doesn’t need warriors to defend those she loves? You are welcome here,” the woman said. “I am Banafrit, High Priestess.”
With a gesture, Banafrit summoned the priestesses and priests, to give Eres welcome. They surrounded her.
“I’m a slave…” Eres said.
Banafrit nodded, her eyes shadowing.
“To the Grand Vizier, to Kamenwati. This we know. But no longer. He will be informed that Isis has accepted you into her service.”
Relief at escaping Kamenwati’s presence and plans was such a great tide through Eres that she very nearly wept.
Kamenwati. Banafrit hid a shudder at the thought of him.
She’d heard talk of him, of the things he did to raise power. Of dark magic, She’d tried to warn the King, to no avail. Kamenwati was his beloved cousin. All the priests and priestesses could do was to increase their protections on the King and warn his guards. Those things had been done. All they could do was wait until Kamenwati showed his hand.
Her mouth tightened.
Banafrit stroked a hand down the girl’s long golden hair, the ripples of it soft beneath her palm. The color was striking. It was like caressing warmed silk, as if it trapped the heat of Ra’s sun in the curling, sunny lengths of it.
As for the girl, she’d been the talk of Thebes for some time. Few didn’t know of her, the foreign warrior with hair the color of sunlight and eyes like the sky whom no man could best in the ring.
Had that to do with the prophecy?
A darkness rises in the desert, the golden one who would come, a warrior, a servant to the Gods…?
She looked at this girl, at the brilliant ripples of her hair, at her pale golden skin…was this the one? Was the time now?
The thought made Banafrit want to weep. She prayed not.
Feeling the touch of the Goddess on her, gentle and loving, her heart trembled a little. It was that time, but not yet. This one had a great deal to learn. There was time. Time to teach her what she would need to know in the days to come.
To look on this girl with her golden hair, her pale skin and those eyes…the colors of the Sky Goddess herself…
“We shall call you Irisi – fashioned by Isis,” Banafrit said. “And Nubiti.” The golden one.
Startled, Eres looked
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