Part 13 (1/2)
The bird's head bobbed and it dropped an offering-a harvest plus in the distant light: a hawk it was
IN THE MORNING Priscilla Delacroix y Mendoza was declared dead by hera civil matter its transmission to the world was delayed by a more important announcement
This more important announcement went first to the rest of the Names who Lived, whoofficially to the Tes went the news: those ould take the e to other Te Moonhawk had turned back the theft of all that was Holy and returned to the Te her mission for the Mother in this life was fulfilled, and she had returned to the fold
In the Teuard stared down at the prisoner a long ti her aith his foot He'd considered-but no, not in the Te down at him fro at her a little harder ”Get out!” He threw her a rough and ragged shi+ft, a castaway from the alms box
”If you ain't out by next chant you're up for trespassing in the Temple! Can't trust any of you Na that was an es weren't as sharp; she could not su the new because the past was totally gone; she put the shi+ft on, and stood slowly She was cold, but here was a little bit of food, and- Thepointedly at her breasts She put her head high, felt the ache in the back of her neck, suddenly feeling the weight of his words
Naht to be bare-breasted in public No right to call the Goddess Mother
Aardly, unnaturally, she buttoned the shi+ft across her bruised and chafed breasts, felt its hehs
There was an explosion of wings behind her, and the bird that had been poised there flew out the door and to the left
”Out, daotta clean up! By the Goddess' good foot, get out!”
Nuether a few more of the nuts Food A little bit of food
The hly
”Get out! You're not wanted You're dead!”
She ran then, ran out the door and to the left, ignoring the open door to the right that led upraars courtyard
”I'm not,” she said to the wall as she climbed the stairs, ”I'm not dead”
She stopped at the door to MaidenHall, waiting for the tingle of acceptance at the crossboard in thestone floor- There was none
There was nothing No quiet gong sounding the advent of a Maiden, no warning brangle of alarm bells, no roar of tarfire fro
She stepped through, then and touched the naain Moonhawk's na-frozen by spell: nor did they raise hackles and charge She was there, Nameless
Moonhaords caone before for her to continue without soain nothing happened No repetition, no echo, no-She realized then she was a thief in Temple!
She ran with trepidation, furtively, until she found the locker that had been hers briefly but that had always been Moonhawk's
To stop a thief one uses locks So had the oht lock sent shi+vers of fear and indignation through Priscilla what could she do now? She'd certainly starve, unable to get at what should be hers And how dare they assuhed, and it was a true laugh despite everything, one that took in all the ironies- She felt the sound of added laughter, distantly heard within her a voice new and thrilling-a male voice!
”You've a chance to survive then, haven't you? It isn't always easy, but girl, Look! It's only a silver lock, all curled about with ns that'd burn the hands off any believer still shackled to their cow-eyed vision-”
Priscilla recoiled at that description-felt the distant voice pause- ”-Can't argue with you now, daet a pin or a nail”
The voice felt different, even more distant-but Priscilla took one of Delana-as-Oatflower's favorite stainless steel pins from her unkempt locker top and found herself in front of Moonhawk's locker, lock held precisely thus- Her hands pulled on the lock expertly as the pin searched within; she felt her es the pin struck, felt her wrist twist this hile the other hand pulled that way and the pin slairl, 'cause we can't go beyond the door with you Never give in!”
Priscilla pulled the lock off the clasp and hurriedly began stuffing the locker contents into a cloth sack: shoes, a belt, work trousers, a few old copper and aluminum coins-She left to the Teold ar up the tight-wrapped soya bar she'd left negligently behind the week before She covered her newly-shorn head with an old blue kerchief that had been a dusting rag for Moonhawk's cereht-wrought things, eyes full of the greed of necessity Dare she?
An odd song tickled at the back of her head, though she couldn't catch the words Still-When she ht to seven silver bracelets
She turned toward the door, found she still held the silver lock in her left hand, under the twisted top of the cloth bag Her iic syed her shoulders, and dropped the lock into the bag
”Good girl!” came distant approval ”Silver travels well! Go as far as you can!”
She hobbled out as best she could then, the grief chants of the Teainly escape
Across Sintia the Priestesses waited for the proper hour, and then covered the carved Te her return to the Goddess, this time
No one dares low, despite the funereal announcement
No one dares mention to the Inmost Circle that Moonhawk still lives
So ends the 55th tale of Lute and Moonhawk
About This Book
East Winslow, Maine Novee, Conflict of Honors, and Carpe Diem, haven't been on the SF best-seller list, but they have reached a very persistent group of readers, ot on the 'net ourselves, our readers let themselves be known
”When,” they asked ”will there be so else in the Liaden Universe?”
This year, like last, lacks a Liaden novel Next year, in February l999, comes our novel Plan B fro for this holiday season, so Liaden We hear you, and read our eht you Two Tales of Korval, stories written as ere defining the Liaden Universe
To Cut an Edge and A Day at the Races both dealt with recent Korval family history