Jay Lake - Green

The incense smoldered. At this time of year, there was saffron crumbled into it, which gave the smoke a strange smell of wormwood and sunflowers-nothing like what the spice did in food. A chanted prayer began among the circling aspirants, who were joined by two Priestess Mothers whose faces I recognized but who I did not know by name.

The prayer went on, calling on the Lily Goddess for Her strength in times of strife. I hadn’t heard this one before. It sounded more like a war prayer than an invocation of wisdom. The women’s way was not to stand to a fight. Even we Blades ran secretly, or did black work.

Still, they prayed the virtues of arm and shield and bright helm. The Temple Mother stepped forward, spread her arms, and led the gallery in the Hymn to Change. O Lily, Mother of us all Here in Your sacred hall

Watch over us as we age

From cradle to the grave

From child to maid so gay

To mother then crone so gray

Make us better than our fears

Down the course of bitter years

The singing died down with the last notes of the peti being played above the gallery. Its bellows eased to a stop with a familiar creaking wheeze. The Temple Mother turned to her altar, dropped her chin, and began to pray again, this time alone. Her voice ran in a long wavering chant, never pausing for breath.

The Dancing Mistress clutched at my arm. “Something comes,” she whispered so softly, she scarcely had voice at all.

The Temple Mother’s vestments began to stir in a familiar swirl. I felt a chill down my own back-fear or something else, I did not know. A great wind rustled, even though it did not pass through the hall except to send the smoke from the thuribles circling the Temple Mother.

I thought of rain, and the death of cities, and slipped the Dancing Mistress’ hand within mine. This was to be a channel, direct possession by the Goddess, rather than “inspiration.” What I had gambled for, but all I’d really done was change the rules. I could not say what profit this would bring me, or whether I would be right in the risk I had taken for both me and my teacher.

The wind suddenly turned furnace hot. Screams echoed in the gallery above as doors slammed open. Some of the altar cloths whipped loose to catch upon the great silver lily. My groin ached like a stab wound, and I felt a sudden, terrible flow of blood from within my vagina. Doubled over against it, I could see red-brown spots emerging on the robes of the aspirants near the altar. A fearful wailing erupted from above.

All the women in this place must be bleeding.

SILENCE, said the Temple Mother in a voice that was much, much larger than she.

The air stilled in an instant. Even the thuribles stopped shivering on their chains. A moment later the sanctuary was quiet enough you could have heard a flower unfold.

I AM CALLED. The Lily Goddess slowly turned the Temple Mother’s body so everyone in all the galleries could see Her divine aspect. If I focused my eyes on Her hand or Her hair, I still saw Mother Umaavani. Except for the dark blood flowing down one sandaled foot, she looked the same as ever. If I tried to see Her as a whole, She filled the sanctuary. More to the point, She filled a place in my head.

I AM COME. Dust sifted down from the ceiling. I WILL SPEAK TO THE GIRL GREEN. The Lily Goddess said something else, in a language I did not know.

I realized I was kneeling on the floor. I did not remember falling forward. Everyone I could see, from the aspirants in front of me to the back of the gallery beyond them, knelt as well. Everyone except the Temple Mother in her theophany as the Lily Goddess.

I stood and took the half dozen steps to present myself before Her. I could not look at the Temple Mother’s eyes, and found myself drawn again to the blood on Her foot. My own loins felt both hot and empty, in pain like the worst of a monthly.

The Dancing Mistress stood with me. Out of the corner of my vision I could see her head was held high. She addressed the Lily Goddess in her own language. The Goddess answered likewise, in that gigantic voice. Then She spoke to me.

GREEN. YOU ARE A POOR SERVANT, BUT A BRILLIANT TOOL.

Drawing my shoulders up a bit, I nodded toward Her feet. I felt like a kestrel before a typhoon. Why had I thought this better than the simple judgment of women against women?

There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, but stand in place, even against the tearing feeling within me.

YOU HAVE SINNED AGAINST MY HOUSE, THE HOUSE OF SHIPS, AND THE HOUSE OF STREETS.

I fell to my knees once more and wept.

I LOVE YOU TOO MUCH TO LET YOU BE THROWN DOWN FOR THIS.

My weeping became tears, from the base of my stricken heart.

DANGER ARISES TO SELISTAN, TO KALIMPURA, TO MY TEMPLE. YOU ARE THE BLADE I WOULD TURN AGAINST IT. IN ANSWER TO THE PLEAS FOR JUSTICE AMONG THE WOMEN OF THIS CITY, I BANISH YOU FROM THESE SHORES TO THE COLD NORTH, ACROSS THE SEA. THERE YOU WILL STOP WHAT HAS BEGUN BEFORE IT CAN STRIDE ACROSS THE WATERS AND STRIKE HERE.

I was on the floor. Drool ran from my mouth across the marble. My ears were bleeding. I realized that I must know one thing. “Wh-where, Goddess, does this d-danger lie?”

The Temple Mother’s hand trembled as she pointed to the Dancing Mistress. WITHIN THE COILS OF THIS ONE ’ S HEART.

A great thunderclap echoed. The thuribles fell; some crushed or shattered even though they were made of silver and brass. The Temple Mother staggered forward, slipping on the pool of blood beneath her left foot. I tried to gain my feet, but it was the Dancing Mistress who caught her before she tumbled to the floor.

“Th-thank you,” the Temple Mother said.

Wailing and screaming rose all around. It took all the Priestly Mothers, and the Blades besides, to calm the gallery this time.

The Dancing Mistress and I stood in the sacred circle surrounded by Blades. Mother Argai was there with her crossbow, and a dozen more, including Mother Shesturi, who would not meet my eye. The gallery was being cleared of visitors, aspirants, and some of the vowed Mothers.

“Mother,” I said.

The Temple Mother looked up at me. In that moment, I could see within her face all the women she had been-the girl aspirant, the young priestess, the training Mother of middle years, and now the wise old woman who led us all and took the Goddess into her body at need. I wonder what she saw in me. Scars? Rebellion? Perhaps a foreign fool pretending to be a good Kalimpuri.

“It is too late, Green.” A sick smile quirked her face. “That was being a shout from the heavens as surely as I have ever heard in my life. The Goddess’ command was clearly stated. You will go.”

“I… I am not ready.” True as it was, the admission surprised me.

“Your time is done.” Her face hardened as she pulled herself wearily to her feet. Pitching her voice loud to the gallery, the Temple Mother announced, “I will have order. We are in convocation now.”

The room fell silent again. Not the stunned silence of the Goddess’ departure, but the rustling, noisy silence of a group of unhappy people waiting to hear what might come next.

“We have been told what must be done,” she said. “We have not been told how to go about it.”

“If the danger is in her heart,” shouted someone whose voice I did not know, “cut her open and still the threat while we can.”

I glanced at the Dancing Mistress. Certainly she knew she was surrounded by women who would have her life in a moment if they could.

“Do we remain at risk?” she whispered.

It took me a moment to understand that she made a joke. I snorted, then turned my attention back to the Temple Mother. She was speaking to the gallery directly above and behind me, where I could not see the seats or know who was asking for the Dancing Mistress’ life.