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Tanistrae jerked her head up from her shoulder. Had she heard something? She wondered. She must have been nodding off again, she thought. Damn, she cursed silently. It had only been day and a half since she had last slept. She could do better, she thought. Maybe if she had not spent the previous night fighting a nekromanter and his undead horde... She looked around the small room in which she sat. It lay silent and still before her, the light within growing dim with approaching nightfall. A typical Ionian hostel, it bore few amenities, just a few pieces of simple, worn furniture and no decorations on the plain, white-washed walls. The only window was next to where she lounged, and a quick glance through it showed nothing outside but a quiet alley without even a stray dog or cat to disturb it. Reaching her hand down into one of the pouches hanging from her belt, Tanistrae drew forth her lightstone. Grasping the quartz cylinder by its base, she held it aloft so that its sorcerous light spilled across the room. Tanistrae looked with concern at the red-haired woman who lay in the room's single bed, almost certain that she had moved. Then a sound did come to Tanistrae's ears. It was a soft moan, issuing from the woman in bed. She turned her head from side to side, and a look of pain and fright came over her otherwise strong features. Tanistrae rose to her feet, heart racing, and was at the side of the bed in moments. Wide awake now, Tanistrae reached out with one hand and ran her fingers through the woman's straight red hair. It was so bright compared to the dark black tresses of most Ionians like herself. It was short as well, she saw. Just barely coming down to her jawline, the ends pointing forward toward her chin. Tanistrae wondered how she kept it styled that way. That must be how they wore it in the highlands of Kalmara. Tanistrae thought. It was strange compared to how long most Ionian women, herself included, wore theirs. Still, it seemed like a good idea. She had to keep her own hair tied back in a ponytail as she currently did, or otherwise bound up, or it got in the way of everything. Tanistrae let her fingers trace along the soft, pale skin of the woman's jaw and to her strong, square chin. Was she going to be alright? Tanistrae wondered. Then a great wave of relief washed over her as the highlander's green eyes flew open and stared back at her. "Dyani!" The bed-ridden woman gasped, and tried to rise up from where she lay. She failed, and Tanistrae saw her face contort in agony as she collapsed back into the bed. "Shhhhh." Tanistrae said quietly. "Just lie back and relax now Amalia. You have had a rough time of it." Amalia groaned loudly and shut her eyes. Tanistrae could see her gritting her teeth and began to worry once more. Perhaps she should have called for the physician after all? "What happened?" Amalia asked after a few moments, opening her eyes and relaxing her jaw muscles from their death-like clench. "All I can remember is Dyani, and the ceiling coming down." "You did good." Tanistrae said proudly. "It all worked out like we planned and the nekromanter was buried under a few hundred tons of rock. We will not be hearing from him again! Or his army of skeletons. You just barely made it clear yourself." "I did?" the red-headed woman asked in a low, tired voice. "I did not think Dyani and I were going to make it." "Well, you almost made it." Tanistrae smiled. "I had to dig you out. Dyani showed me where you were buried in the rubble. If it were not for her, I never would have found you." "How is she?" Amalia asked, and now Tanistrae could see the pain wash from the highland woman's face, to be replaced with an expression of concern. "What happened to her?" "She…" Tanistrae began, only to find herself momentarily at a loss for words. "She… left. After I got you free. She was scared, but I told her it would be alright. That it was time for her to go." Amalia smiled now, for the first time since she had woken. Her hand moved to Tanistrae's side, and the Ionian woman gently wrapped her own fingers around the highlander's. "That is good." Amalia breathed, and Tanistrae could see her starting to relax. "I am glad." "I gave her and her father a proper plains burial and carried you out of there." Tanistrae said, now biting her lip with uncertainty. "It was still dark of course, so we could not get back into town. Not without storming the walls at least. You were out of it, but did not seem to be in any danger, so I did my best to just make you comfortable." "In the morning I brought you back here to the inn, cleaned you up, and put you to bed." Tanistrae continued, feeling awkward about what she was afraid might be coming next. "I was not sure if I should have called for a physician or not. You seemed whole, and I did not want someone poking and prodding you for no reason." For the briefest of moments, Tanistrae saw a look of fear crest upon the other woman's features. The highlander's hand left Tanistrae's, and moved to lift the covers. With a wince she looked down at her body underneath. "Your dress was ruined so I took it off and threw it away." Tanistrae explained hurriedly. "But I never touched your underclothes. I would never... take liberties like that. I had to wash you up though. You were covered in dirt and dust. We both were." "Its ok Tanistrae." The other woman breathed, letting the covers fall to her chest and turning her emerald gaze back to Tanistrae. "Thank you for taking care of me. A lot of people would not have. That means a lot to me." "I only did what any honorable person would have." Tanistrae muttered, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Are you going to be alright?" "Yes, I think so." Amalia smiled. "Vanalfar's Hauberk saved me from the worst of it. But there are limits to what even the God and Goddess can do for us. I just need time to recover naturally is all, and regain my energy." "Vanalfar's Hauberk?" Tanistrae asked. "Was that the red light that protected you?" "Yes." Said Amalia. "It is an ancient technique, part of Tomnäve. Umm, my fighting style." "I was wondering about that." Tanistrae asked. "I have never seen anyone do those things. It was amazing." "It is rare even back home in Kalmara." Amalia explained. "It took years for me to learn. Like I am sure it took you to learn to use a bow like you do. I have never seen anything like that in either the mountains or here in Ionia. Neither the bow nor the wielder." "I thought you had not, from the look you gave me when I first strung it." Tanistrae said, feeling a twinge of pride swelling within her. "It is a plains bow. The nomads use horn and sinew to strengthen it and give it the recurved shape. It makes the bow much more powerful than anything here in Ionia, and it is still small enough to use while mounted." "Oh, that reminds me." Tanistrae mused, and fished a hand around in a pouch hanging from her belt. A moment later she drew forth a silver chain and held it up to Amalia. "Dyani would want you to have this I think. Without her half of the Soul Egg, she will not be needing it anymore." Tanistrae said with a smile, motioning to put it around the other woman's neck. "I buried my sword with her, for she fought as bravely as any warrior." "Oh my." Amalia breathed. She lifted her head with a wince of pain, and Tanistrae rushed to quickly draw the necklace around her throat and fix the clasp behind her neck. Every large movement seemed to hurt the other woman, she realized. She probably should have waited for later to give that to her, Tanistrae thought, when the highlander was better rested. Yet a moment later Amalia was laying with her head snugly back against her pillow and looking up at her with a smile. "I thought you might put that rose pendant of yours on the chain." Tanistrae thought aloud. "You are very kind to think so much of me Tanistrae." The highland woman said, looking down at the rose quartz pendant that also hung from her neck, but only by a simple leather cord. Carved in the shape of a blooming rose, it lay in the hollow between her small breasts, steadily rising and falling as she breathed. "Hrm." Tanistrae muttered. "I am just me is all." "Besides, I kept her father's bow." Tanistrae added. "I think it must be enchanted. I left him my own in its stead." "It is such a strange thing, that your folk leave belongings with the dead." Amalia seemed to think aloud. "Among my people such things are always given to the person's friends and family. Partly so a piece of their memory lives on through it, and partly because we just cannot afford to bury such things." "I think it is more a formality these days." Tanistrae replied. "In the old days, people believed that you took your earthly possessions with you to Elysium, or to Erebus if that was your fate. But now… Many wonder if the Titans even exist at all, let alone an afterlife." "For myself, I left those things because I am not a graverobber." Tanistrae said. "A merchant yes, which is close to, but not an outright, thief. I made a trade with them is all. It matters not that they are dead." "That is very noble of you my lady," said Amalia, "and yes, I too think that bow is enchanted. Bring it to me later when I have regained my seid, and I can tell for certain." "Your seid?" Tanistrae blinked in confusion, looking down at her supine form. "My magical energy." Amalia explained. "What you Ionians call numen. I used all I had in the dolmen. It will take me a while to recover it. Not to mention for my body to heal." "How long do you think it will be?" Tanistrae asked, hoping the other woman's injuries were not that bad. Amalia had suffered many of those wounds on her own behalf. That should be herself, not the highlander, Tanistrae thought. Not in the bed, but below the earth… "Before you are well again I mean. It does not look like you will be out of bed anytime soon." "Oh, I…" Amalia murmured, then looked at Tanistrae in confusion. "How long have I been here?" "Oh!" Said Tanistrae. "I forgot to to tell you. It is the next day. Next night that is. You have been asleep for a whole day." That brought a growling sound from Amalia's stomach that even Tanistrae could hear. "I am sorry." The highlander apologized sheepishly, glancing down at her belly. "I never did get to eat dinner yesterday." "Oh hush." Tanistrae said, moving toward the door. "Let me get you something, you must be starved. Besides, some food will help you heal." "Thank you Tanistrae." Amalia replied. "Enough of that already." Tanistrae declared, beginning to feel flustered at the highlander's gratitude. "Friends look after one another. Like you looked after me in the dolmen." She was half way out the door when the highland woman's voice caught her once more. "Tanistrae…" Amalia stammered. "I…, umm…, I should tell you something." Tanistrae's heart jumped in her throat. Was Amalia going to tell her about the mystery of her sex? There had been plenty of time for Tanistrae to think about that, both in the dolmen and since then. As well as ample opportunity for her to find out on her own. But Amalia's secrets were her own to keep or share, Tanistrae had decided. They were not for the taking. All Tanistrae knew was that whatever Amalia was, it was not normal. How hard a thing must that be to confide in others? Tanistrae had wondered that before and did once more. How much trust would she have to earn for Amalia to share that willingly? Poor woman, Tanistrae thought. Woman. Tanistrae put the emphasis in her mind. That was how Amalia presented herself, and that was good enough for her. "Yes?" Tanistrae asked quietly, waiting breathlessly on the other woman's next words. "I…, I…" Amalia stammered, then turned her head away to face the opposite wall. "No onions please." She said quietly. "I cannot stand the onions you Ionians put in everything." "Okay, I will tell them, and I will stand over them so that they remember!" Tanistrae said, forcing a smile to seem more light-hearted than she really felt. Damn, Tanistrae thought to herself as she stepped in the hall outside. Somehow she did not think that Amalia really wanted to tell her about onions. Once the Ionian woman was gone, Amalia turned her head back to stare straight up at the ceiling. Curse me for being a coward, she thought. Her cheeks reddened with shame, and she felt a deep feeling of despair wash through her. Why did she have to be born this way? She had meant to tell the other woman the truth, she thought, but her tongue had just refused to move. Why was it that she could face the likes of nekromanters and the undead without flinching, but was daunted by a few simple words to someone who could be a friend? Remembering her family and the last time she had seen them reminded her of why. She would bear some of the scars her father had left on her forever. On the outside and the inside. Especially on the inside. Where no magic could heal. She pulled her thoughts away from that. Like she had taught herself to do years ago. Best not to dwell on what was over and done. "Look at the road ahead, not behind." Amalia could imagine her Mistress Signe saying, as she always did when a student like herself brooded upon the past. Well, she thought wryly, the first thing she needed to look ahead to was the chamber pot. If Tanistrae had been telling the truth, she had been unconscious for an entire day. Her bladder certainly felt like it. She closed her eyes and grasped the Power within herself. In her mind's eye she drew from it threads of raw energy and gently wove them together into a complex design. Stitching the completed fabric of her spell into her own flesh, she lapsed into the language of her own land and breathed softly. "Mother keep me and bless me. Hold me in your grace. Warm me with your love, And take away my pain." A white glow spilled out from Amalia's skin, and suddenly the pain vanished from her battered frame. She sat up straight in bed, the linen sheets falling to her lap and leaving her small but firm breasts exposed in the cool air of the dimming chamber. Well, she thought with a trace of a smile, if anyone is peeping through the window they would not get much of a thrill looking at her. If it were Tanistrae instead no doubt they would. There was more to one of the Ionian archer's breasts than both of Amalia's combined, the highlander thought with a chuckle. Amalia gingerly slid out of the bed, uncertain of how strong her body would be. Her legs trembled beneath her, yet managed to hold her aloft. Looking down at herself, she saw that she did indeed still wear her cotton breeches. Stained from dried sweat, dust, and dirt, it only took her a moment for her to pull them off and toss them on the floor beside her pack. Those needed washing before they were touching her skin again, she thought. Assuming they could ever be gotten clean. Naked, she stepped to the chamber pot and put it to use. For the thousandth time she looked down at herself as she did so. At the mass of scar tissue between her legs where her genitals once were. She wondered what her life would have been like if she had been born the way a woman is supposed to be? She remembered the night she had completed her formal initiation as Gudindens Roser. When she had taken the knife, and her final step away from manhood. She could still picture the severed flesh burning on the brazier, the smoke rising high into the dark rafters above while the smell choked her nostrils. It had been the final death of her old life. An ending, but also a beginning. She had not even known when she had fallen unconscious during the ritual. She only remembered standing there and watching the fire. Then waking up in the light of a new day feeling healed and whole for the first time in her life. At long last free of that terrible part of her and reborn as a daughter of the Goddess. Finished with the pot, Amalia covered it and slid it into its corner. Then she knelt beside her pack and dug out a fresh pair of underclothes. Feeling her seid slipping away as the moments ticked by, she hurriedly pulled them up over her hips and slipped back into bed. Letting the threads of Power slip away, Amalia's pain-killing spell ended and the aching in her body assaulted her once more. It felt like she had fallen off a mountain. Which was not so far from the truth, she ruminated, wincing at the pain of her still-healing ribs. How many of them had she broken when she went off the cliff beneath Tanistrae? Six? She thought back to the previous night. To the dolmen outside of the city, and the desperate battle she and Tanistrae had waged there against the nekromanter Sabatus. She had never faced anything like that before. Never faced real undead, nor such a powerful magician. She never come so close to death, not once, but twice. Not even during that terrible night when she had escaped The Purging in Ballerup, where her Order was destroyed. It had been the Masters and Mistresses of her sect that had done the real fighting then. They were the ones who had paid the terrible price as well. She had done little more than run and survive. In her memory Amalia could still see Master Aegir holding the portcullis open so that she and the others could run under it and escape from the citadel. He had caught it as it fell to bar their escape, and the heavy iron and wood barrier did not budge an inch lower as he held it aloft. While his frame may have been small there was no questioning his strength and fortitude as he stood like a mighty oak. Taking all of the weight of the ponderous barrier upon his narrow shoulders, the light of Vanalfar had bathed Aegir in a red brilliance that lit the entire courtyard. Then came the arrows, and the thrown spears, and the axes. Until nearly all that could be seen of him were the shafts jutting from his red flesh. Some of those weapons bathed in a red glow of their own. Magically charged by the priests of Vanalfar who aided their captors. Yet Aegir had stood. She remembered. Stood defiant against those who hated and feared and envied their kind. He stood and died. Amalia closed her eyes and sighed. What can anyone do against such hate? She wondered. "Just live our lives with love in our hearts," she imagined Mistress Signe's voice in her ears. "And never surrender to fear." But Mistress Signe was dead now too… Overwhelmed in the press of soldiers and borne down by the weight of their numbers. Until the last of her magic failed and they tore her apart with axe and sword. Amalia lie there in the deepening gloom, feeling the aching pain in her body that reminded her that she was still alive. Still alive where others much more deserving of life than her were now gone. It had been nearly a year ago. She thought. Three seasons. Yet she still could not keep back the tears. Amalia heard Tanistrae's hard-soled riding boots clomping in the hall outside and did her best to compose herself. Raising her hands to her face, she quickly wiped her face dry. Her joints protested with stinging pain, but that was better than letting the other woman see her that way.
"Dinner is served M'lady." Tanistrae declared as she entered the room. She carried a tray in her arms, laden with a steaming bowl, a spoon, two cups, and a jug of milk. Balancing it all on one hand, she shut the door behind her with the other and walked over to Amalia. Tanistrae noticed the redness in the other woman's eyes and the wetness under her nostrils. That had not been there when she had left. Damn, she thought, what had Amalia been crying about? Setting the tray on the stand beside the highlander's bed, the Ionian woman saw Amalia's dirty underclothing now laying on the floor beside her opened pack. She said nothing, and instead pulled the room's only chair over to the bedside. "It took all the energy I had to use it." Amalia confessed with a glance to the chamber pot. "When the rain comes, it comes." Tanistrae said with a little smile. "So they say on the plains at least." "I brought you some soup. There is a little bit of lamb in it. Mostly vegetables though, but no onions!" Tanistrae explained. "Now if you can sit up we can get some of it in you, and start getting you better." The Ionian could see the other woman straining as she tried to pull herself up and backwards. Her teeth clenched tightly together, and her knuckles turning white where they grabbed handfuls of the sheet. Without thinking Tanistrae leaned forward and took the highlander in her arms, easily drawing her up so that her back rested against the white-washed wall behind her. "Thank you." The other woman breathed, along with a sigh of relief. "You are strong." "Years of pulling a bowstring will do that for you," Tanistrae answered easily, settling herself down on the side of the bed next to the highland woman's legs. "And stop thanking me all the time." "I cannot help it." Amalia said with a barely perceptible shrug. "I am not used to people being kind to me." "Bah! Caring for a wounded companion is not just honorable, but good sense." Tanistrae declared as she lifted the bowl of soup and handed it to the other woman with the plain wooden spoon. "If a clan does not ride together, then they all fall separately." "I do not mean to sound ungrateful," Amalia said as she took the soup. "But I think you have gone beyond that." "I would be dead but for you. What more need I say?" Tanistrae stated plainly. "You are unlike anyone I have ever known, and you have shown me more kindness than I have received in a long, long time as well." Amalia seemed to consider that as she stared at her meal. Tanistrae watched silently as the other woman took a hesitant taste, feeling a measure of relief at the look of contentment that came over her features after her first swallow. Tanistrae poured her a cup of goat's milk, and another for herself. "So where are you headed?" Tanistrae asked, taking a swallow from her own cup and instantly wishing it were wine instead. Or at least koumiss. The plains-folk knew what to do with milk, she thought with a wry smile. Ferment it! "I do not know." The other woman replied between spoonfuls. "I am just… going where my Goddess Vanadis leads me." Tanistrae cocked an eyebrow at that. "I did not know your folk had itinerant priestesses." She said. "Or are you on some sort of holy mission?" "Sometimes I wonder that myself." Amalia replied with a bemused smile. She reached for the milk and drank down a long swallow before continuing. "Kalmara is not a safe place for people like me anymore." She said quietly. "I had to leave." "Not safe for priestesses of your own Goddess?" Tanistrae wondered aloud. "How…?" "Not all priestesses of Vanadis." Amalia explained ruefully, looking down at the rose pendant she wore. "Just some of us. Along with some of Vanalfar's sons as well." "What happened?" Tanistrae asked, her mind a whirl with the possibilities. Was this woman part of some clerical plot? A revolutionary? An outlaw? "Hate and fear happened." The Kalmaran sighed, then looked up at Tanistrae with a piercing gaze. The other woman seemed to be measuring her. Like one of the bolts of cloth Tanistrae had seen her examining in the market just the other day. In turn, Tanistrae found herself weighing the things she had learned of the other woman herself. She had seen what could only be a tremendous amount of character in the highlander. She possessed courage, honor, and loyalty; tempered with compassion and self-sacrifice. A damned sight more than she had seen from most Ionians, Tanistrae thought. More than from her own family especially. Yet this other woman also wore mystery like a cloak. She seemed to have more secrets than a Lakedaemon spymaster. Not a good thing, Tanistrae thought, not at all. This woman was dangerous. No doubt about it. But dangerous to whom? "You are an aristocrat are you not?" Amalia said, really more a statement than a question. Tanistrae nodded, wondering what the other woman was thinking. She would humor her, Tanistrae decided. Trust could only be gained by being trustworthy, she knew. If she trusted Amalia a little, perhaps the highlander would feel safe enough to do likewise. "I am from House Laskaris," she said. "Of Ikaria." "Yet you carry a bow and sword, and use them with a warrior's skill." Amalia observed. "You are strong, hard. You talk of life on the great plains, not in palaces. You wear no finery, but rather a soldier's mail. You travel alone, and I can see that you make your own way in the world." "I have not been in Ionia long, but I know this is not the way an Ionian woman lives, much less one who is high-born." Amalia stated matter-of-factly. "Even amongst my own folk a woman like yourself has become rare." "Are you an outlaw?" Amalia wondered. "An outcast? A mercenary?" "I am not an outlaw." Tanistrae stiffened at the near accusation. "Just because you have been judged, that does not make it just." Amalia replied steadily. So that was it, Tanistrae thought. The highlander was on the run. Did she think her a kindred spirit? Why not? Tanistrae considered. As the other woman so plainly put it, she was not a proper Ionian woman. "I have my problems with my family." Tanistrae spat, and before she could change her mind, lay all her cards on the table. "My father betrayed me. Murdered my lover. Kidnapped my baby. All to make me a good, compliant, aristocratic girl. A piece of property to be bartered away in an arranged marriage for economic and political advantage." "I was not cast out." Tanistrae declared. "I left them in my dust. It is my life and I live it my way. They are the ones cast out."
Amalia closed her eyes at the raven-haired woman's admission. She had never imagined… "I am sorry." She said, feeling suddenly ashamed at dragging it out of the other woman. There had been no mistaking the bitterness in Tanistrae's voice. Nor the pain. How long had Tanistrae wanted to tell that to someone who cared? Amalia wondered. How long had she needed to rail at the injustice of it all? Amalia could see that she was not the only one in the room with ghosts… "Many women have worse." Tanistrae said. "Much worse. At least there is something I can do about it all. Starting with finding my daughter." Amalia opened her eyes as if looking at the other woman for the first time. Now she understood what had led her here, of all places in Ionia. "Your daughter…" Amalia murmured. "Now I see. When I am better, when I am healed, I would like to help you find her." "What?" Tanistrae almost stammered, unable to conceal her look of disbelief. "But you do not know a thing about me. Whether or not I am lying for one." "In my heart I hear the voice of the Goddess, and she is always true." Amalia said. "It may sound mad to you, but she shows me where I am needed. I only need the courage to go." I do have that courage, Amalia thought. She felt her heart in her throat, choking it, trying to silence her. But this time she did not let her tongue betray her. This time she reached down deep to where she felt the God's strength within her, and let him fill her with the resolve to tell the other woman what she had told no one since that fateful day the previous summer. "In Kalmara my kind are called Der Tredje," she said "Or as you would say: 'The Third'." "You see, I was born with a man's body, but a woman's spirit. I am one of Gudindens Roser, or 'The Roses of the Goddess' in your tongue. Some others are the opposite, women born with men's souls, whom we call Gudins Torn, 'The Thorns of the God'." "Seven years ago I joined the Gundestrup monastery, where the last of my kind lived." Amalia explained. "Six years ago I took a knife and ritually severed what was male from me. I became a woman, not just in spirit, but as much in body as physically and magically possible. I was reborn a priestess of Vanadis. Yet because I was once male, I remain blessed by Vanalfar as well. Although I do not honor him as I do my Lady, I am still one of his sons." "That is why I can use both men's and women's magic, as I am sure you have already noticed. All of my kind can do so. The division between our spirit and flesh is also why we can practice such things others of my folk cannot do at all, such as spirit magic. For unlike others, we walk with the God and Goddess between the worlds of men and women, and between the worlds of flesh and spirit." "That is also why many hate us and fear us." Amalia sighed. "Why some even envy us. If only they could live our lives, they would see there is nothing to envy. Nothing to fear." Amalia wished aloud. "I…" Tanistrae stammered, for once totally at a loss for words. "That is just, incredible." "I know." Amalia nodded. "I have not seen any like us among your kind. Well, not openly. But I have no doubt there are people who are the same in your land as well. Perhaps without the magical talents we have, nor as priests or priestesses, but I am certain they are here nonetheless." "It is unheard of." Tanistrae breathed. Amalia wondered what the lowland woman was thinking. What was in that look she was giving her? Was it disbelief? Curiosity? Enmity? "What would happen to an Ionian who did the same as I?" Amalia asked. "Who lived as a member of the opposite sex." "Well," Tanistrae began thoughtfully, her face taking on a grim cast. "They would be riduculed of course, a laughingstock. Then probably beaten, maybe ostracized, maybe murdered. It would not be good for them, that is for certain. I have enough trouble myself just because I do not wear skirts." "But there was Empress Anaxandria..." Tanistrae suddenly brightened up with a smile. "She is the one who bred the first Thoroughbreds by crossing desert and plains horses with Ionian ones. She started out as Emperor Anaxander, but changed it somewhere during 'her' reign. She was the last good Emperor, who ruled after mad Emperor Kleombrotus had executed the rest of the royal family. 'She' only survived his purges because he did not take her seriously. No one did at first, but that changed after decades of peace and prosperity, the last the Empire ever saw. The historians still do not know whether to call Anaxandria a 'him' or a 'her'!" "But, that was an Emperor." Tanistrae reflected soberly. "There was never anything quite like a Titan upon earth as an Emperor back in the old days. Just questioning some meant death. They could do anything they pleased and everyone would just smile and say it was right. Things are not quite so easy for the rest of us..." "That is why most are not open about it." Said Amalia. "Just like I was not. My father thought he had beaten it out of me when I was a child. I just learned to hide my womanhood instead. Until I just could not take it anymore. My father nearly beat me to death with a fireplace poker, and threw me from our home and out into a snowstorm." "Once, long before I was born, people like myself were honored in Kalmara. We were counselors, warriors, healers, advisors, even leaders. Our unique gifts, even our curse of wrong flesh, were seen for the good they brought to others." "But things changed." Amalia explained, feeling her heart grow heavy. "Kalmara became more like Ionia, and my folk went from being considered unique to being freaks. We had to learn to fight to defend ourselves. Even the other Priests and Priestesses began to turn us away from their temples. Until finally all we had left was our one monastery." "Last year the army came and took that. We were dragged off to Ballerup, the capital, and tried for treason. Of course the verdict was never in doubt. Our fates had been sealed long before the soldiers had ever marched on us." "So we escaped. A few of us at least. Most of us died." Amalia said, feeling her throat close up tightly with emotion. She shut her eyes and tried to will herself to speak again. Then she felt a warm hand on her arm, and looked up to see Tanistrae gazing down upon her, an expression of concern on her dark features. "I cannot imagine what it must be like." She said. "But I know that you are no freak, nor a traitor." "You are a woman, like me." Tanistrae said bluntly. "Anyone who says differently will have to answer to me." "It seems we are two peas in the same pod Tanistrae." Amalia said with a small but heartfelt smile. "Outsiders. Neither one of us who or what we are supposed to be." "Bah, we are just right my dear priestess." Tanistrae insisted. "It is the rest of the world that is not." |