Dragonfly

honor of the new god of the Empire.

Bright frescoes of war covered the walls, gleaming with scarlet, gold, and black. The altar shone

with the polished metal of the shields and weapons of fallen foes. A huge icon of Holin hung

over the table, draped in swathes of red cloth. The priest directed Tashi to kneel on the stone

floor in front of the congregation, who were seated in relative comfort on wooden benches. Her

anger had burned itself out and was now replaced by fear, as she wondered what new

humiliation they had in store for her. Keeping her eyes lowered, she sensed the presence of

hundreds of people, all gathered eagerly for the service. The front rows were occupied by the

rich, wrapped in furs and velvet against the chill air. Fergox would doubtless be somewhere

close, sitting at the front in the place of honor. Her neck flushed as she remembered what Ramil

had said about the man wanting to wed her. If this was how Fergox wooed his wives, then

marriage to him was worse than any prison sentence.

A cymbal clashed and a drum began to beat. The senior priests filed in bearing the weapons of

their god: swords, pikes, bows, axes, spiked maces.

Junior acolytes followed, clashing wooden sticks together in time with the drum. The

congregation rose to its feet, but Tashi remained kneeling, her hands clasped loosely in her lap.

In unison, the people began to chant the hymn of

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praise to Holin. She could hear Fergox's voice booming the words out behind her.

"Praise to the war god, glorious in victory,

Crushing his enemies all over the world,

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We offer ourselves in perfect obedience,

Spilling our heart's blood and bending our knees."

The chief priest, a withered-looking man with a pinched, thin face, halted behind the altar and

raised his arms, displaying hundreds of tiny white scars.

He took a knife and in the sight of everyone made a shallow cut on his forearm.

"Honor the Warmonger!" he cried.

"All honor to his name," responded the congregation.

Tashi watched in fascination as he let the blood drip onto the white cloth spread out on the

table. He then chose two weapons from the altar and handed them to a pair of priests waiting

eagerly on either side of the table.

He gave one the mace, the other a sword. Neither was given a shield. The two men turned to

face the congregation. Tashi could see the steel caps on their boots.

"See how we fight for Holin!" they shouted in unison.

To Tashi's horror, they then swung at each other, sword angling down at the knees of the

opponent, the mace bearer going for the head. The combat was only paces away from her. She

could feel the rush of air as weapons slashed and robes whisked. The priests dodged skillfully; so

far no one had landed a blow. Tashi began to hope that this was just an elaborate 128

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dance pattern to celebrate battle without causing injury, but then the mace bearer crashed his

weapon into the skull of the swordsman, who had not moved quickly enough. Tashi flinched as

bone split and she was sprayed with a mist of blood. The victim fell onto the floor in front of her,

so close she could have touched his head. The victor yanked out the mace to the applause of the

audience. He shook it in the air and then presented it to the chief priest to take pride of place on

the altar. The dead man was left lying where he fell. Tashi was shaking, sure she was about to

vomit; she inched back to avoid the blood pooling on the steps until she felt a firm pressure on

her neck. It was Fergox. He had risen and was now standing behind her.

"Stay where you are!" he ordered.

Stooping down, he dabbled his index finger in the blood, then wiped it on the forehead of the

victorious priest who knelt before him to receive the mark of honor. Seeing Tashi's look of

horror, Fergox smiled, reached out and smeared some on her cheek. Revolted, she made to

wipe it away.

"Leave it!" he said, slapping her hand down. "Blood spilt bravely is better than white paint of falsehood." Leaning closer, enjoying her fear of him, he slowly daubed her other cheek.

Tashi trembled, close to tears, as Fergox watched her reaction with a mocking expression. She

could feel the blood drying on her cheek, pulling on the skin, but she dare not touch it.

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Fergox turned from her and raised the victorious priest to his feet. He then lifted the man's fist

in a punch of triumph.

"See how we fight and die for Holin!" Fergox shouted.

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The crowd cheered and the priests struck up a chant.

"Give your offerings of blood, gold, and service," the chief priest cried in ecstasy.

The priests divided into two columns and began moving among the people with bowls. Most of

the congregation poured out the contents of their purses, but some of the most zealous

adherents sliced their hands with a knife and let the blood fall into the basins, prompting

applause from the onlookers. As the priests brought the offerings to the altar, one paused by

Tashi and held out his bowl. Eyes on her clenched fists, she shook her head, and he continued on

to the front without a word.

The rest of the service seemed interminable to Tashi as she tried to regain some control over

herself, some calm to counterbalance the panic and revulsion she felt. Songs were sung to the

accompaniment of drums and blaring horns; a long recitation of the martial virtues expected of

the perfect warrior was read out by a temple guard; the chief priest spoke at great length about

the evils of foreign gods and the superiority of Holin. All Tashi could see was the dead man

sprawled before her, receiving no honor because he had committed the sin of being beaten.

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Finally, at the end of the ceremony, the chief priest held up a hand for silence.

"Now we come to the Choice. One here among us has followed the demon goddess all her life

but today, Holin, in his mercy, has given her this chance of salvation." He nodded to two

assistants. They stood before Tashi, the one on the right hand holding warm clothes and a loaf of

bread, on the left, a birch rod. "Choose service to Holin and your trials will be over; refuse and your mortification will continue until you are cleansed of your errors." He paused, then asked,

"Penitent, who is the Supreme God?"

Silence fell in the temple. Tashi closed her eyes, wondering if her voice had fled. She had to say

something.

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"I am the Mother's servant." Her voice was surprisingly loud in the hushed temple.

"Blasphemy!" shrieked the priest. The crowd murmured and hissed at the kneeling figure in her black robes. "Take the witch back to her cell!" he ordered.

Two guards seized Tashi roughly under her arms and towed her back the way she had come.

Behind her, the chanting began again as the priests hurried to purify the temple after the

pollution caused by her words.

Once back in her cell, Tashi dashed to her water jug and rubbed frantically at her bloodied

cheeks. She felt dirty long after she had cleaned the marks off.

Please, she begged the Goddess, please may they leave me in peace!

She was not to get her wish. The chief priest and his

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entourage followed on the completion of the service. He bore the birch rod in his hands, his

expression unforgiving. Tashi backed against the wall, feeling the priests' hostility like a physical

blow as they crowded into her small room.