The Tenth Power by Kate Constable

‘Lady Mother?’
    Marna murmured something, so faintly that Calwyn could only catch a few words here and there. ‘No time… the secrets …this is my punishment.’
    ‘No, Lady Mother!’ Calwyn spoke in a fierce whisper. ‘You always taught us that the Goddess doesn’t punish – ’ She stopped. Hadn’t she, in despair, wondered if her own loss was a punishment from Taris? But it was true: Marna had always taught them to know a loving Goddess, whose ways might be mysterious, but never cruel. Calwyn smoothed the thin, silky hair.
    Very slowly and shakily, Marna raised her other hand and touched the end of Calwyn’s long plait. ‘Don’t grieve, child… for what you have lost.’
    Calwyn blinked back tears. So Marna knew. How long had she known?
    The High Priestess’s lips moved. ‘You live in darkness now, but the darkness will end, as the night ends…and the winter turns to spring.What is broken…will be whole again.’
    Calwyn could not speak. Marna’s cool fingers rested in her own, reminding her of Halasaa’s healing touch. But not all hurts could be healed, and not all winters end in spring, Calwyn thought. Perhaps this winter would never end.
    ‘Lady Mother, please, tell me!’ she whispered. ‘What is the Tenth Power?’
    ‘Find theWheel.’ Marna’s voice was so faint that Calwyn had to put her ear almost to her lips. ‘Time for song…and time for silence. You must learn…to listen .’
    ‘Yes, Lady Mother.’
    ‘We sing, but we are also sung,’ whispered Marna. ‘Little daughter, the Goddess sings for me.’ Her blue eyes closed, and she sighed, as if she had laid down a heavy burden after a long journey.
    Calwyn rubbed Marna’s cool hand between her own. ‘Lady Mother? Please, tell me – ’ ‘Calwyn!’Ursca’s voice was sharp. ‘Stand back! It won’t help anyone if you catch the sickness, too.’
    Calwyn dropped Marna’s hand abruptly. Ursca’s cloak and hair were crusted with snow, and her face was pink with cold. She knelt on the floor and gently touched Marna’s face with her gloved hand. ‘Taris whispered it to me, that it would be today! The Goddess has taken her daughter.’
    Ursca folded Marna’s hands on her breast, and reverently touched her forehead, her throat, her heart. Even when Ursca unpinned her hair and began to croon the lament for the dead, Calwyn did not believe it.
    Mica touched her shoulder; her face was frightened. ‘Is she dead, Cal?’
    ‘She – she has gone to – ’ Calwyn’s voice choked in her throat. Wordlessly she turned, and Mica’s arms went around her. Calwyn clutched her tight and let her tears soak into Mica’s tunic, wishing that Darrow were there to hold her. Trout patted her awkwardly on the back.
    ‘No, no!’ Calwyn struggled free. ‘I must help sing.’
    With shaking hands, Calwyn unbound her own hair and shook it out so that it fell loose around her face. The low, mournful swell of the lament to the Goddess mingled with the doleful howling of the blizzard outside, as Ursca and Calwyn did honour to Marna. Then Ursca recited the prayer for the dead, her hands cupped before her. A troubled frown puckered her face, as if to say: this is not my task, this is one more thing that should not be.
    When the prayer was complete, Ursca covered Marna’s peaceful face with the sheet. ‘She was waiting for you, Calwyn. She held herself here until you returned, and she had said what must be said.’
    Calwyn dashed the tears from her eyes, and her voice wobbled in childish protest. ‘But she didn’t tell me everything! There wasn’t time. She was going to tell me about the Tenth Power, about theWheel – ’ Ursca held up a hand. ‘Ssh! I am not learned in the secret lore, these are not matters for my ears,’ she said severely. ‘Whatever our dear Lady Mother left unsaid, you must find out for yourself.’ The lines of exhaustion on her face were more deeply etched than ever. ‘Stand aside, dear,’ she said more gently. ‘I must