Book 3 - Ceremony Read Free Page B

be.
    The Redoriad were building their new main cloister in one of
Ruhaack’s satellites. Construction was far advanced from what
it had been at the time of Marika’s last visit.
    Though Marika had departed the immediate equation, the two
orders remained closely allied. For a time, soon after the bombs,
there had been talk of a merger. The main talkers had been
Marika’s enemies, who wished to keep her from taking control.
Nothing had come of it. Marika’s supporters and other
conservatives within both Communities had scuttled the
proposal.
    The same conservatives supported the alliance, though. It had
proved of great benefit to both orders. The Reugge, particularly,
were now considered a force to be reckoned with in everything.
     
    Marika nervously stalked around a hastily prepared apartment.
Kiljar, now most senior of the Redoriad, was coming to see her. She
felt like a pup again, as unsure of herself as she had been when
first she had arrived at Akard.
    “I shouldn’t have locked myself up in
Skiljansrode,” she told Barlog. “Not so thoroughly.
I’ve lost something.”
    Grauel entered. She looked sour. “Bagnel the tradermale is
here, Marika.” Which explained that. Grauel never had
approved of Bagnel. “And the Redoriad say that mistress
Kiljar has departed the Redoriad cloister.”
    “Good. Good. What of Bel-Keneke?”
    “She will be here soon, I think more out of curiosity than
because you implied that you were about to call in her debt to
you.”
    “Fine.”
    Both huntresses considered her. She continued to pace.
    “I spent too long in the safety and nonpressure of
Skiljansrode,” she explained again. “I have lost my
edge. I am not comfortable being Marika. The
weapons . . . I feel almost silly carrying
them. But they were our sigil. Going around armed, making dramatic
gestures. We are too old. I’m almost ready to become one of
the Wise.”
    Grauel snorted. “Maybe in another twenty years.
You’re still hardly more than a pup.” She spoke thus in
defense of herself. She was much older than Marika, but she was not
ready to lay down her huntress’s role.
    Barlog said, “I think I understand, Marika. When I am out
in the cloister I too get the feeling that the world has left me
behind.”
    Grauel agreed. “I encountered young voctors who
didn’t know who we are. Or were, perhaps I should say. Not
that we were ever that famous. But there was a time when our being
Marika’s bodyguards meant a lot more than it does
now.”
    “It slips away,” Marika said.
    “It hasn’t been that long, Marika.”
    Bagnel arrived first. A group of baffled novices delivered him
to Marika’s door. A male in the cloister? Impossible. They
were scandalized. They had heard stories about the bizarre doings
of this silth called Marika, but had not believed them before
this.
    Marika was amused.
    “Well,” Bagnel said as the door closed behind him.
“The living legend herself. Where have you been, Marika? We
agreed to fly together at least once a month. One day there
wasn’t any more Marika. No message. No excuse. No apology.
Nothing for years. Then out of nowhere a typically peremptory
summons. And here I am, though I should have requited indifference
with indifference.”
    It took Marika a moment to realize he was teasing, that he was
glad to see her. “You’re looking a little gray around
the fringes, Bagnel.”
    “I have not had the privilege of taking an extended
sabbatical. My brethren would gray the fur of a statue.” He
looked troubled.
    “What is it?”
    He glanced at Grauel and Barlog, as always disturbed by their
presence. “Are they immortal?”
    “They are as safe as ever, my friend. The Redoriad will
join us presently, though I do not expect her immediately. Most
Senior Bel-Keneke will wait till Kiljar has arrived before she
makes her own entrance.” She did not add that the room itself
was safe, for she, Grauel, and Barlog had made independent sweeps
in search of the sort of listening