The Gate of fire ooe-2 Page 11

  "Greetings, lost daughter," the elderly woman said, a muted smile on her lips.

  "Greetings, Daughter of the Archer," Shirin replied, carefully pronouncing the archaic words as Thyatis had taught her. "I seek shelter from storm. I seek shelter from the rage of men. I seek shelter from fate and the gods. Bright lady, hear my prayer and grant me peace and surcease from the world. I pray you let me into sanctuary and I will bind up my hair for you and follow your ways in all the days of my life."

  The snow white eyebrows of the Matron rose up, and she darted a fierce look at Thyatis, who had also stepped out of the boat and had stripped off the soaked cotton shirt. The red-haired woman met her gaze and held it, all innocence while she wrung the seawater out of the garment. The Matron turned back to Shirin, noting for the first time the archaic line of the garment she was wearing and the classical styling of her hair. "I see… my lost daughter brings a new student, and a troublesome one at that."

  The younger woman with the parasol made a slight coughing sound. The Matron rolled her eyes and batted a hand at her. "Peace, Aurelia, I will abide by the conventions of the island and the Order."

  The Matron turned a steely gaze upon Shirin and considered her for a long moment. "O girl, you who come before the goddess as ephebe, you give yourself to the Order of the Huntress?"

  Shirin knelt, furiously trying to remember the rest of the ritual words. "Artemis watches over us," she recited to the old woman's slippers, "winged guardian of all lost things. I am Shirin of Khazaria. I am lost in this world, I seek shelter. Bring me into your fold, O Potnia Theron, and I will repay you with love, duty, and obedience."

  The Matron glared at Thyatis again, who had pulled her shirt back on and tied it off under her breasts. Sighing, she raised her long-fingered hand and made a sign in the air over Shirin's head. High above, where hundreds of distant faces watched from the windows and archways of the hidden city, a voice was raised in song. Shirin did not understand the words, but she knew from what Thyatis had told her that it was a song of welcome and an invocation for the blessing of the goddess.

  "Welcome, daughter Shirin," the Matron said. "You have found your sanctuary, here on the Island of the Huntress, this blessed and secret place."

  Shirin stood up and bowed again. The smaller woman patted her on the arm, and the Matron turned away to lead them down the sunlit pier into the cool darkness of the temple. Behind them, the skiff rocked easily against the pier, born up on bright waves. The song swelled from a single voice to hundreds, haunting and beautiful over the empty waters.

  – |The sun set, turning the sea a deep gold and the sky a wash of pale pink and purple. Thin clouds crowded the horizon, and they burned golden like ingots in a forge. Shirin, sitting in the window of the rooms that had been given to her and Thyatis, sighed in delight. The beauty of the sky and the sea from this height made her heart glad. The window was cut from the rock, sitting in a deep embrasure and looking out over the waters beyond the island. Thyatis looked up from the little table in the plainly appointed room. She had her longsword laid out over her knees on a quilt of wool. A small copper bottle of oil sat nearby, and she had a rag and whetstone in one hand. The warm light of the setting sun, slanting through the window, silhouetted Shirin and painted Thyatis like a statue of gold.

  "What is it?" Thyatis' voice was weary-the struggle with the sea had taxed her. Her arms and shoulders were stiff and very sore.

  "I have never been in a more peaceful place, my friend. After all our travels, I feel at last that I could be safe to walk about without you at my side."

  A glad smile gleamed for a moment on Thyatis' face, and then she sighed herself and looked down at the blade. It shimmered in the failing light, a bar of bright watery silver. Outside the deep-cut window, a flight of terns flew past, cawing, heading home to their rookeries on the cliffs above the temple. "I could think of no better place-no, no other place-to bring you after your old home was destroyed."

  Shirin nodded, turning a little on the windowsill. Thyatis did not look up, knowing the look of sadness and loss that would be plain on the younger woman's face. "My home… I wonder if Ctesiphon was ever truly my home. I lived there, true, with my husband and my children-but was it a home? Its memory fades, but other places remain bright-the yurts of my uncles; the smell of horses in the rain; the long, open vista of the steppe. Of those palaces and gardens, I can see only you-my friend-standing in the rain, covered with blood, over my husband's body. That and flames leaping into the night sky."

  Shirin paused, staring out the window. The sun at last slid into the blue-black ocean, leaving a trailing green spark on the horizon and then a burning ember swallowed by wine dark waters. The sky shaded to deepest purple, with long fingers of gleaming orange trailing across it, the last vestige of the day. Thyatis remained silent, her long fingers slowly running a cloth along the blade, bringing it to a bright oiled polish. Shirin continued, her voice soft. "It was like… I had fallen into a dream or a soma-sleep, filled with gorgeous halls and elegant people, fabulous gifts, and a prince of the hidden folk-one who could grant any wish, conjure any amusement. A fair face, hiding a dark heart. I was a doll, perfectly combed and painted, something to hold up to the light and wonder at. Then you came, all unbidden, with that reckless oaf of an uncle of mine-ah, what a risk you took!"

  Thyatis grimaced and slid the Indian-steel blade into the long scabbard. "It was his plan," she said wryly, "and I cannot fault it-it worked, and here we are."

  Shirin laughed, cocking her head to one side. Her hair spilled slowly over her shoulder, thick and rich. "And here we are… you and I, a more unlikely pair than any in a troubadour's tale. I know, dear Thyatis, that you fret that you have done me some disservice-torn me away from hearth and home to journey in some strange land-but you forget that I am not some pampered lady of the court."

  Thyatis looked up at the sharp note in Shirin's voice. One pale red eyebrow crept up in amusement at the vehemence in that low voice.

  "Do not give me that look!" Shirin stood and strode across the room to stand over the Roman woman, brown arms tensed, fists on her hips. "I rode before I walked, drew bow before I could speak-all my people do, as you well know! I rode at Chrosoes' side in the war against the Man of Wood with lance and shield… braggart Roman!"

  Shirin pinched Thyatis' ear sharply and then jumped back, giggling, when the red-haired woman growled at her. Thyatis stood, a blur of motion, and her sword, scabbarded, sailed across the room to land in the pile of baggage and clothes they had brought up from the boat. Shirin laughed aloud and stuck out her tongue. Thyatis growled again, though a quick smile was welling in her face like a flower opening to the sun. She slid forward, her bare feet quick on the polished slate tiles of the floor, and snatched at Shirin's bare arm. Shirin spun aside, her hair flashing in a dark wheel, and leapt over the chair by the table.

  Thyatis sprang left around the low table, her braids flying behind her. "Insolent Princess," she cried, "slow and fat, like a summer deer!"

  "Oh!" Shirin's eyes flashed wide, and she snarled back, "Roman piglet, plump and well fed!"

  Shirin danced in, small brown feet light on the floor and her right leg came to her stomach and then snapped out. Thyatis leaned aside, her body twisting to slip the kick, and her right hand snaked out, catching Shirin's heel. The Khazar girl sprang up from the floor, twisting her foot out of Thyatis' grip, and she somersaulted, bouncing off of the floor and up again.

  Thyatis shouted aloud in unconscious joy and spun in, body bent parallel to the floor in a whirling leg strike. Shirin dropped in the same motion and rotated on one heel, her long, smooth leg flashing out to catch Thyatis' foot. Thyatis fell hard, but rolled into a ball at the last moment and crashed into the table as she came clear. The table legs broke, scattering splinters and broken wood across the room.

  "Oh, now see what you've done!" Thyatis crowed, rolling up to the balls of her feet. Without thinking, she tossed the table aside with a great clatter.

/>   Shirin tossed her head, clearing hair out of her eyes, and made a face back at the Roman. "Clumsy ox, anyone could have avoided that! I count a point!"

  "Do you?" Thyatis snarled, her eyes filled with wicked joy. She circled to the right, balanced, arms a little out in front of her. "A point of what?"

  Shirin kept her distance. The toga was a lost cause, and she undid the remaining knot at her shoulder, letting the thin cotton garment fall to the floor. Thyatis made a short rush, but Shirin dodged behind the bed and quickly tied her hair back with a ribbon. Under the toga she was wearing a short linen skirt and a tight silk blouse with short sleeves. "A point of law," she said, leaping over the corner of the bed as Thyatis made another rush. "The court will find in my favor, uncultured Roman barbarian!"

  "Will it, effete Persian?" Thyatis sprang over the bed in a mighty bound. Shirin ducked aside, but Thyatis clipped the Khazar girl with her shoulder. Shirin gasped and rolled back, but Thyatis caught her leg with her own and fell on top of her, pinning one hand. Shirin cursed and squirmed aside, but Thyatis locked her left leg and-after a fierce struggle-managed to pin Shirin's other arm.

  Sweat dripped off of Thyatis' nose and made tiny pearls on Shirin's cheek. They slowly slid down the golden skin into the hollow of her throat.

  "Just like a Roman," Shirin hissed, glaring up at Thyatis, "all brute force-no subtlety at all."

  "Just like a Persian," Thyatis said, smiling, bending her forehead to touch Shirin's, "blame defeat on their enemies failings." She was breathing a little heavier than usual.

  "Like schoolchildren, more like," a musical voice said with an odd lilt to it.

  Thyatis' eyes widened, and her entire body suddenly surged upward, one arm sweeping Shirin away, behind her, and the other fanning in a block across her head and shoulders.

  A thin hand, dusky gold, arrowed past the blocking move and collapsed into a knuckled fist. Thyatis, catching a glimpse of a thin, small woman with a crown of tightly braided black hair, tried to twist aside, her arm continuing to push Shirin behind her. The thin fist tapped her on the inside of her right breast, and Thyatis coughed at the impact. Pain blossomed across her chest like fire in grain dust, and she flew back, crashing into the stone wall by the window. Her mouth was open in an O of surprise, and tears welled in her eyes.

  Shirin, thrown aside, attacked in the same instant, her right leg snap-kicking at the stranger's head. She followed with a blurring open-hand strike at the woman's sternum. The stranger barely moved, her head drifting aside from the kick, her black eyes smiling at the rage on Shirin's face. Shirin's fist strike was plucked out of the air by the woman's left hand, moving with unhurried ease. In seemingly the most natural movement in the world, the woman's right hand came up into Shirin's chest as Shirin carried forward with her strike and ran herself onto the open palm.

  Shirin gasped in pain, all the breath driven from her body, and stood stock-still, her mouth working to breathe. The woman stepped away, every movement as graceful as a swan's, and smiled again, bowing at the two women. Shirin, unable to breathe, shuddered and collapsed forward onto her knees and then to the floor. Thyatis, with a Herculean effort, pushed away from the wall and crawled to her friend. She rolled Shirin over and, with a trembling hand, traced a line with her two middle fingers from the side of Shirin's nose, down the side of her throat, across her chest, and to the inside of her thigh. The Khazar girl twitched and then gasped for breath, able to breathe at last.

  "Well done," the woman said, her voice lilting with amusement. "But you were poorly prepared and… distracted."

  Thyatis looked up, her face filled with surprise, delight, and fulminating disgust. "Sifu," she croaked, still barely able to speak. "never just a hello?"

  The little golden woman shook her head, face sad. "No, not in this world of troubles. Welcome home."

  Thyatis stood, lifting Shirin from the tiles with an arm around her waist. She bowed. "Thank you, sifu. This is my friend-"

  "Shirin of the House of Asena," the golden woman interrupted, "a new student in the Temple."

  "Yes," Thyatis said, her voice edged with suspicion. "I was going to bring her to meet you tomorrow."

  "Tonight will do for meetings," the woman said, smiling and showing perfect white teeth. "Tomorrow will do for beginning her training."

  Shirin's eyebrows rose up, and she looked sidelong at Thyatis, who was staring at the little woman in concern. "Training? She will not be here long enough-"

  "She will be here as long as she is here," the woman said, overriding Thyatis with calm authority. "And while she is here, she will be one of my students. This is the Way."

  "Not all students in the Temple are your students, Sifu! She does not have to-"

  "Wait!" Shirin interjected in a cold voice. Thyatis stopped and looked at her friend in surprise. Shirin met her eyes with an icy glare. "I will decide," Shirin said. She turned to the little woman and bowed, her hands pressed together before her. "Sifu," she said, "you are the one known as Mikele? The master of the art of the open hand? The one who taught Thyatis-this great lumbering ox of a Roman-to fight with her whole body?"

  Mikele inclined her head, bright dark eyes looking the Khazar girl up and down. "Yes," Mikele said, "I am a teacher of the Way."

  Shirin met the dark eyes levelly and returned the slow observation.

  Mikele was very thin, even lighter than Shirin, who was not heavy at all. The little woman was a swordblade, balanced and whip-thin, with a core of steel. An enormous amount of pitch black hair was curled up on Mikele's head, held in place by silver combs and tiny golden pins. She wore a plain cotton shirt, with a round-notched collar, and Persian-style pants with wide bottoms. Her face was serene and elegant, marked by high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes. Shirin knew, looking upon her, that in her youth the little woman had been surpassingly pretty. But now, age had peeled away everything but a clear beauty that shone from her eyes more than the appearance of her face. Her lips were thin, but creased at the corners by a constant smile. Every thing about her spoke of balance and restraint, nothing hinted at the effortless speed of her movements.

  Shirin bowed again, tendrils of raven hair falling around her face. "If the teacher would allow a student to learn, the student is ready."

  One of Mikele's eyebrows rose now, and she glanced at Thyatis. "Well spoken, at least. Come, the Matron would have you sit with her at dinner."

  – |Moonlight slanted between round-bellied pillars. Thyatis stood in shadow, leaning against the cool marble surface of a low wall. Shirin stood close to her, a shawl of light knotted wool pulled over her shoulders. They stood in a small circular temple raised on the highest point of the island. A narrow stair of a thousand steps fell away below it, leading down to the hidden temples and rooms below. The night air was cold on the height, and the Temple of Artemis was open on all sides, revealing an enormous vista of barren ocean. Beyond the rocky walls of the island was nothing to the horizon. A full moon rode high in the sky, filling the world with a lush silver light.

  A breeze passed over them, and Shirin edged closer to Thyatis. The Roman woman slid her arms around Shirin's waist, and the Khazar girl settled into her chest, pulling the shawl tighter. Somewhere on the barren slope, bats were hunting, their squeaking voices faint in the background.

  "Was this the first building here?" Shirin asked in a quiet, dreamy, voice.

  Thyatis shook her head and rested her chin on the crown of Shirin's head. "No," she said slowly. "The first temple lies on the floor of the lagoon. Sometimes, when the sun is high in the sky, you can see the roof, deep in the waters. It is nearly covered with sand, though. Once, when I was learning to swim, I dove deep enough to touch it. All the others-the Temple of the Winged Huntress, the dormitories, the kitchens and bakeries, the workshops-were built later. The Sisters came and carved them from the stone of the island by hand."

  Shirin clasped her hand over Thyatis' and held it tight to her. Her thumb traced a puckered scar on the back of Thy
atis' wrist. "That must have taken centuries," she said in a small voice.

  "Yes," Thyatis said. "But the Sisters have been here for a long time."

  "There are no men here? Not even slaves?"

  "No," Thyatis said, smiling in the darkness, "not even a slave. So it was in old Themiscyra, so it is upon Thira-the-Daughter. The world has enough men in it as it stands. There need be none here."

  "How did you come here? Did you run away from your family?"

  Thyatis stiffened slightly, but then relaxed again, though she held Shirin tight. "No… I did not run away. My pater-my father-was a landowner in one of the farming districts south of Rome, but there were hard times, and he fell into debt. I-we-my sisters and I, he… we were sold, in the great market."

  Shirin turned her head a little, peering up at her friend. Thyatis' face seemed that of a statue in the moonlight, as hard as stone. Thyatis pursed her lips and shook her head a little. Little bells wound through her hair and tinkled softly.

  "A woman was in the marketplace, just… browsing, I suppose. She saw me, all gangly arms and legs and wild red hair, and took a fancy to me. She was a duchess-the wife of a regional governor in the Empire-and money did not concern her much. I was taken to her house, though I do not believe that I ever saw her at all. I remember little of the day in the market-only a terrible thirst and the great noise, all around me, of thousands of people.

  "They sent me to a house on the edge of the city, a temple where women could find refuge. The priestesses fed me and gave me clothes and a bath. I stayed there for a little while, then two women in masks came to fetch me and I was sent far away from Rome.

  "I was sent here, to the School, to Mikele."

  Even in the darkness, Shirin could feel a wry smile on Thyatis' face.