Jennifer, struggling with something unexpected, finally asked Jaelle, “Why is she hurting so much?”
The Priestess, too, was a little subdued. “It is difficult,” she said, “and not a thing I understand yet, but they have done the dance twice before this summer, I am told, and both times Finn was chosen for the Road. This is the third, and in Gwen Ystrat we are taught that three times touches destiny.”
Jennifer’s expression drew a smile from the Priestess. “Come,” she said. “We can talk at the Temple.” Her tone was, if not exactly friendly, at least milder than hitherto.
On the verge of accepting, Jennifer was stopped by a cough behind her.
She turned. Diarmuid’s man had moved up to them, sharp concern creasing his face. “My lady,” he said, acutely embarrassed, “forgive me, but might I speak with you in private for a moment.”
“You fear me, Drance?” Jaelle’s voice was like a knife again. She laughed. “Or should I say your master does? Your absent master.”
The stocky soldier flushed, but held his ground. “I have been ordered to watch over her,” he said tersely.
Jennifer looked from one to the other. There was suddenly an electric hostility shimmering in the air. She felt disoriented, understanding none of it.
“Well,” she said to Drance, trying to pick her way, “I don’t want to get you in trouble—why don’t you just come with us?”
Jaelle threw her head back and laughed again, to see the man’s terrified recoil. “Yes, Drance,” she said, her tone coruscating, “why don’t you come to the Temple of the Mother with us?”
“My lady,” Drance stammered, appealing to Jennifer. “Please, I dare not do that. . . but I must guard you. You must not go there.”
“Ah!” said Jaelle, her eyebrows arched maliciously. “It seems that the men here are already saying what you can or cannot do. Forgive me my invitation. I thought I was dealing with a free visitor.”
Jennifer was not oblivious to the manipulation, and she remembered Kevin’s words that morning as well: “There’s some danger here,” he’d said soberly. “Trust Diarmuid’s men, and Matt, of course. Paul says be careful of the Priestess. Don’t go anywhere on your own.”
In the dawn shadows of the palace, it had made a good deal of sense, but now, in bright afternoon sunlight, the whole thing was rankling just a little. Who was Kevin, making his way through the court ladies, then galloping off with the Prince, to tell her to sit tight like a dutiful little girl? And now this man of Diarmuid’s. . . .
About to speak, she remembered something else. She turned to Jaelle. “There seems to be some real concern for our safety here. I would like to place myself under your protection while I visit your Temple. Will you name me a guest-friend before I go?”
A frown flicked across Jaelle’s face, but it was chased away by a slow smile, and there was triumph in her eyes.
“Of course,” she said sweetly. “Of course I will.” She raised her voice so that her words rang out over the street, and people turned to look. Lifting her arms wide, fingers spread, she intoned, “In the name of Gwen Ystrat and the Mormae of the Mother, I name you guest of the Goddess. You are welcome in our sanctuaries, and your well-being shall be my own concern.”
Jennifer looked to Drance, questioningly. His expression was not reassuring; if possible, he appeared even more consternated than before. Jennifer had no idea if she’d done right or wrong, or even of exactly what she’d done, but she was tired of standing in the middle of the street with everyone watching her.
“Thank you,” she said to Jaelle. “In that case, I will come with you. If you like,” she added, turning to Drance, and to Laesha, who had just scurried up, her new gloves in hand and an apprehensive look in her eye, “you can both wait outside for me.”
“Come, then,” said Jaelle, and smiled.
It was a low-set building, and even the central dome seemed too close to the ground, until Jennifer realized, as she passed through the arched entrance, that most of it was underground.