Sparrow, still frowning, moved on to the next brazier, lowered it on its chain, and indicated for Mouse to light it. Mouse obeyed silently, sprinkling the handful of incense and trying not to breathe in the thick scent.
“I was to have your place, you know,” Sparrow said, looking across the hot coals at Mouse. “I was to be the Speaker’s girl, to walk in her footsteps and care for her needs. I was being trained for it.”
Mouse blinked. Her hand holding the bag of incense trembled.
“And then you come along,” Sparrow continued, pulling the chain back into place, hand over hand. “You come out of some wild jungle mountain, all tattered and smelly. And the Speaker looks at you as though she’s been waiting for you for years. All my work was for nothing.”
Sparrow focused her attention on the swinging brazier as it settled back into place. Mouse, her mouth dry, didn’t know what to say. “I . . . I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You are sorry,” said Sparrow, moving on to the next brazier. “Sorry and small and ignorant. You are a mouse. And yet she favors you.” Mouse followed, huddled up inside her robe. “It is the will of the Flame,” the older girl continued with a shrug, though her voice was not so dismissive.
Somehow Mouse knew that only fear of severe punishment kept Sparrow from clawing her eyes out.
3
WHEN I FOUND ETANUN, he and his brother were hard at work building another of their Houses. This one overlooked a river in the cold north, and it was the grandest they had constructed yet. But when Etanun saw me, he abandoned the work and came down to me at once.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, looking me over. I must have been a sight, ragged winged, hollow eyed. “Are you come alone? Is Etalpalli threatened?”
I shook my head. The sight of his face had driven from me all the fire inside. Though I wished to hate him, I could not but be glad to see him again.
“Dear queen,” he said and took me by the shoulders, “tell me what is wrong!”
I spoke: “They say you’re in love with a mortal maid.”
His hands dropped away and he stepped back. Bowing his head, he whispered, “They say this?”
“Is it true?” I demanded.
He drew a long breath. For a moment I thought he would deny it.
But he said, “It is true. I do love her.”
The blue star progressed in its arching path across the night sky, surrounded by its brethren. Mouse pursued it, watching the sky rather than her feet. There were no obstructions on this ground, the barren territory that surrounded the temple. The Flame and the Spire were at her back, and she drove her feet to hasten after that gentle light above, ever fearing the coming of dawn and the fading of her distant guide.
In the four years since her coming to the temple, she had never before left its confines.
Four years had fled so quickly, Mouse had scarcely felt their passing or noticed the change that came upon her body as she grew from girl to young woman. She served the Speaker, dressing her every morning for the ritual tending of the fire, undressing her every night before the high priestess stole a few precious hours of sleep, ever guarded by Stoneye. Mouse herself slept in a tiny chamber adjacent to her mistress’s, separated from her only by a curtain.
Despite this proximity, she never felt close to this eldest of the temple sisters. There was something unknowable about the Speaker, as though she feared to be known. Yet Mouse grew to love her even as she feared her, and she served with all the zeal in her young body.
After the first year of labor, she, along with the other acolytes her age, entered into intensive studies under the priestesses, learning the rites and duties performed to the glory of the Flame. Some of these she knew already, for her mountain village celebrated the Days of Fire and the Breaking of Silence, and all the holy days of the year.
But within the temple every day was like a holy day, which meant grueling work for the sisters. Most days, Mouse was too tired even to think about rest, and most nights too exhausted to sleep. Yet she would never have exchanged that exhaustion for the easy life of the mountains. She learned reading and writing; she studied chants and histories. Life was as far removed from goat herding as it could be, and she reveled in the difference!
Then one dawn, everything changed.
She was in the lower south corridor, lighting her braziers as she did every morning at sunrise. This far into her service, she no longer needed Sparrow to oversee her work. Indeed, Sparrow, now a priestess in her own right, was far removed from Mouse’s life, and for this Mouse was grateful.