The Shattered Goddess by Darrell Schweitzer Read Free Book Online

higher caste, and maybe The Guardian’s half-brother, or so they say—”
    His disappointed look became a glare, somewhere between anger and a show of hurt. One of his greatestfears was that he would come to a high station, and be dragged away from those few people who had been kind to him.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, and even as she did her right hand went halfway into the gesture of Repentance—thumb and little finger up, turned sideways and back straight—before she caught herself.
    “The truth of the matter is,” he said in a low voice, “I wouldn’t want to berelated to this Guardian in particular—”
    There was a thunderous knock on the door. Amaedig ran from the window and raised the latch.
    The messenger stood in the doorway, holding a polished disc of stone in his hand. He would not give it to Amaedig, but when Ginna approached, he surrendered it immediately.
    The boy turned the thing over in his own hand and stared at it blankly,then looked up at the messenger, puzzled.
    “It’s an invitation, you little idiot!” the man snorted. “You are invited to The Holy Guardian’s banquet in the great hall this evening, an hour after sundown. It is a great honor. Be grateful.”
    “Tell The Guardian I am indeed grateful and honored,” said Ginna slowly.
    The messenger turned on his heel in a smart military manner and left,even before Ginna could think to make the sign of Blessing Received. He made it to the fellow’s back as he vanished down the winding stairs outside the apartment
    In truth he considered himself commanded, and he was afraid. Yet there was some thrill to it He felt anticipation. All the lords and ladies of the court would be there. He did not know any of them, and from what stories he had heardof plots, counter-plots, purges, and intrigues, he didn’t want to get to know them, but still they were exciting to watch, like a flock of dangerous, gorgeous, strutting birds.
    “Shall I get your best clothing ready, Ginna?”
    “Yes. Please do.”
    At least the dinner would bring some variety to his life. He knew it was safer being tucked away in a corner and ignored, but this didn’tmake his days any less tediously featureless. He was willing to sacrifice safety for variety, even if it meant a chance of being noticed by The Guardian, who even now was being secretly called Kaemen the Sullen and Kaemen Iron Heart.
    So it was eagerly, although with some trepidation, that he put on the clothing Amaedig brought to him, the bright blue and red knee-length shirt of water-silk,the tightly fitting hose made from the soft inner skin of the kata, his wooden-soled, beaded slippers which were the most awkward things to walk in but the height of court fashion, and finally a cloak of plain brown cloth with no insignia on it denoting rank or honors bestowed.
    “I wish you could come too,” he said.
    “What would I do there, among all those high-born people?”
    “Agood question. What shall I do? I think you’re better off, having your station clearly defined.”
    They sat for a while making small talk, waiting for the hour to come. They stared out the window, watching the sun sink over the tilted rooftops. Then it was time for her to draw water from a nearby well, as she did every evening, and she left him. He paged through some poems he had copied outof a book in a library he had only discovered the week before.
    He thought about that library, and the strange old man who presided over it. He had found it in an alleyway he had never noticed before. There the librarian sat, frequently all alone, like an extension of the dust that covered everything. It was always twilight in there. Only a single lamp burned. The books were all bound inheavy leafier and linked to the shelves by long chains. You could take them to any desk if other scholars and most of the furniture didn’t get entangled in the meantime.
    So he’d sat in there, straining his eyes, making copies of some strange verses which seemed to