THE WANDERING FIRE by Guy Gavriel Kay

Kim looked at her. “Will you go out?”

Jaelle rose abruptly and took a few paces toward the far wall. Kim thought she’d given offense, but after a moment the tall Priestess turned back to her. “Sorry,” she said, surprising Kim for the second time. “An old response. I will go to the banquet but come back afterward. The grey-robed ones must go into the streets tonight, to any man who wants them. The red Mormae never go, though that is custom and not law.” She hesitated. “The High Priestess wears white and is not allowed to be part of Maidaladan or to have a man at any other time.”

“Is there a reason?” Kim asked.

“You should know it,” Jaelle said flatly.

And reaching within, to the place of her second soul, Kim did. “I see,” she said quietly. “Is it difficult?”

For a moment Jaelle did not answer. Then she said, “I went from the brown of acolyte straight to the red and then the white.”

“Never grey.” Kim remembered something. “Neither was Ysanne.” And then, as the other stiffened, she asked, “Do you hate her so much? Because she went with Raederth?:

She didn’t expect an answer, but it was a strange afternoon, and Jaelle said, “I did once. It is harder now. Perhaps all the hate in me has gone north.”

There was a long silence. Jaelle broke it awkwardly.

“I wanted to say . . . you did a very great thing last night, whatever comes of it.”

For only the briefest moment Kim hesitated; then she said, “I had help. I’m only going to tell you and Loren, and Aileron, I think, because I’m not sure what will come of it and I want to go carefully.”

“What help?” Jaelle said.

“The Paraiko,” Kim replied. “The Giants are still alive and under siege in Khath Meigol.”

Jaelle sat down quite suddenly. “Dana, Mother of us all!” she breathed. “What do we do?”

Kim shook her head. “I’m not sure. We talk. But not tonight, I guess. As you said, I don’t think anything important will happen tonight.”

Jaelle’s mouth twitched. “Tell that to the ones in grey who have been waiting a year for this.”

Kim smiled. “I suppose. You know what I mean. We’ll have to talk about Darien, too.”

Jaelle said, “Pwyll is with him now.”

“I know. I guess he had to go, but I wish he were here.”

Jaelle rose again. “I’m going to have to leave. It will be starting soon. I am glad to see you better.”

“Thank you,” Kim said. “For everything. I may look in on Gereint and the sources. Just to say hello. Where are they?”

Again Jaelle colored. “We put them in beds in the chambers I use. We thought it would be quiet there—not all the priestesses go out if there are men in the Temple.”

In spite of everything, Kim had to giggle. “Jaelle,” she said, “you’ve got the only three harmless men in Gwen Ystrat sleeping in your rooms tonight!”

After a second she heard the High Priestess laugh, for the first time she could remember.

When she was alone, for all her good intentions, she fell asleep again. No dreams, no workings of power, just the deep sleep of one who had overtaxed her soul and knew there was more to come.

The bells woke her. She heard the rustle of long robes in the hallway, the quick steps of a great many women, whispers and breathless laughter. After a while it was quiet again.

She lay in bed, wide awake now, thinking of many things. Eventually, because it was Maidaladan, her thoughts went back to an incident from the day before, and, after weighing it and lying still a while longer, she rose, washed her face, and put on her own long robe with nothing underneath.

She went along the curving hallway and listened at a door where a dim light yet showed. It was Midsummer’s Eve, in Gwen Ystrat. She knocked, and when he opened it, she stepped inside.

“It is not a night to be alone,” she said, looking up at him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, showing the strain.

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