‘One,’ she bites back. ‘They’re not allowed to use their powers inoneof the trials. They can be freely used in the other four.’
‘I know the odds are stacked against me, but Etta chose me. She choseme, Dinah. Weak, stripped, powerless me.’ My gaze locks on hers. ‘As you are so fond of saying, the Goddess has her reasons.’
Dinah’s the only priestess I would ever dare speak to in such a manner, but she has always been more of a grandmother figure to me. A very slow-ageing grandmother.
‘Kay is not the only reason I’ve come,’ I say, keen to get to the other favour I seek before she has to leave. ‘I need a weapon. I don’t know what they will have there or if we will be able to take one from King Korvane’s armoury. Is there any chance you have something I may use?’
Her lips press tightly together. ‘I am sure I will be able to find something,’ she replies, then continues without pausing for breath, ‘I am going away tomorrow. Heading to the North. I will ensure Artur gets your message before I leave.’
‘The North?’ I question. That seems like a very vague description. If she were heading to one of the Northern Morathkian cities – Rowell or Dorain – she would have named it.
My nerves twist. Unless… she’s heading up the Hirathean Pass, towards Agoyd? I would rather she travel anywhere else than there. No ground in the kingdom has drunk more blood than the land south of the Coltan Mountains.
‘It should only be for a few days,’ she says, ignoring my question, though her response eases my fears slightly. It takes at least three days to reach Galreck, and that is only part of the way to Agoyd.
She continues, looking heartsore, ‘I will be gone for your vows, and it’s likely I’ll still be absent for the first trial, but I should have returned by the second. Please, Rose, stay alive until then.’
A smile curls my lips. ‘I’m definitely going to try.’
She reciprocates with a smile so fleeting I almost miss it.
‘Wait here,’ she says. ‘I will be one moment.’
Without waiting for me to reply, she turns her back and strides through the solid stone wall as though it offers no more resistance than mist. This was her gift before she took her vows to the Goddess, but I’ve always struggled to work out which God or Goddess granted it.
A warmth spreads through me as I recall Dinah telling me how, as soon as my mother learned to walk, she tried to mimic everything the priestess did. Which meant that when Dinah passed through walls, my mother attempted the same. Unsurprisingly, the bruises piled up quickly.
Dinah takes longer to return than I expected, and I wait nervously. When she steps back through the stone, her arms are laden with a large packet wrapped in hessian. The bundle is so high that her head is barely visible above it. There’s no chance that’s all weapons.
‘Clothes,’ she says, answering my unasked question. ‘I suspect they are years out of fashion, but if tradition stands, then the palace will host balls to mark the stages of the trials, and you will be expected to attend. Of course, if you have more fitting clothes, then please give these away.’
‘I don’t,’ I say quickly, taking them gratefully. However dated these clothes may be, they will be far more suitable for a ball than anything I currently own. We took nothing with us that wasn’t useful, because though gossamer gowns may look pretty, they do a piss-poor job of keeping you warm.
It’s only as I take the pile of clothes from Dinah that I spot the satchel slung across the priestess’s body.
‘It is a strange wonder, the odd items that people leave in the name of Etta.’ Dinah slips the bag off her shoulder. ‘Or maybe they just leave them here because they can no longer hold the burden of what they contain. Either way’—she loops the bag’s strap over me—’I believe you will find far more use for these items than the temple would have.’
The satchel is weighted and bulging. Even if it’s filled with bread alone, it’ll be a gift I deeply appreciate, though judging by her cryptic comments, I doubt it’s anything so prosaic. Relief surges. Perhaps she did find me a weapon then.
I reach for the flap, eager to see what’s inside, but before I can, Dinah places her hand on top of mine.
‘When you are at home,’ she says, ‘and cannot be overlooked,’ she adds pointedly.
I glance around us. There’s no one in our immediate vicinity, but I nod in understanding.
‘Thank you, Dinah. For everything.’
‘You are very welcome, child.’
She smiles and draws me into her arms. The embrace is clumsy with the cumbersome items between us, but no less welcome.
‘Stay alive,’ she instructs me fiercely as we break apart.
I smile, but I don’t make any promises. I don’t want to break my word, even in death.
Chapter 7
When I return home, Kay has gone from mad to livid.
