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sorrowtrees, their graceful, weeping branches interwoven to form a roof of living green. The forest floor
beneath them was carpeted by a rippling sea of grass dotted with small flowers, their white starry faces
upturned to the stray shafts of light piercing the canopy above. The whole space rustled and swayed on
unseen currents of air.
192 Gift of the Goddess
Anje inhaled deeply. The air felt crisp and clean in her lungs. It smelled green, of rising sap intermingled
with a piercing sweetness.
 Goddess daisy. Brin indicated the flowers and at once she recognized the perfume. It was in the herbal
soap the Feolin used, the one she liked so much.
About a dozen people were clustered at the far end of the temple, dwarfed by the soft, cavernous
volume of it. As she walked down the nave with the men she loved more than life itself, the grass yielded
under Anje s boots, clinging to her ankles, before slipping away, almost reluctantly. What would it feel
like brushing against her bare skin? She shivered.
 Brin! A tiny woman wearing a long, tightly fitted gown detached herself from her companions and
rushed forward, her hands outstretched.  You re dreadfully late.
The shaman stepped forward to catch her up in a hug, her head pressing against his ribs, but Anje didn t
hear his rumbled reply. She couldn t drag her gaze from the statues gleaming in the shifting shadows.
There were four of them.
Maiden, Mother, Crone and Harlot. Lufra smiled at Her worshippers, depicted as a slender girl barely
old enough to have breasts. And there She was as a crone, her wrinkled face stern with wisdom. As the
Mother, Her lovely head was bent to the child in Her arms, Her belly proud with new life.
They were made of the same pale stone as the figure on Brin s dresser, inlaid with silver and gold and
colored gems that splintered the light, but it was the final statue that dragged the breath from Anje s lungs
and made her head swim.
The goddess embraced a dragon, not much bigger than She. Her smooth limbs were twined around the
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scaly torso. The creature s gold-tipped claws dug into the soft flesh of Her hip and its leathery wings
wrapped Her up. At first glance, it appeared the beast was devouring Her, but a more careful inspection
revealed that Lufra was laughing, Her head thrown back. One hand the clasped the dragon s rigid,
pointed phallus, while its forked tongue slid over Her milky throat.
It was the most beautiful, frankly sensual thing Anje had ever seen. A deep burning warmth suffused her
belly. Trey s arm curled around her waist.  The Lust Dragon, he murmured.  Her most popular aspect.
Gratefully, she leaned into his solidity, only gradually becoming aware of the silence. Four men wearing
snowy white sarongs and six women in gracefully clinging gowns stood frozen, staring.
At her.
Not a limb moved, not an eyelash flickered. She folded her arms and tilted her chin at an aggressive
angle.  What? she demanded.  Haven t you seen a Child of the Mother before?
 Well, no. The small woman released Brin and held out her hands. Automatically, Anje bent to catch
them in hers.  But know you are welcome. She must have been well into her forties, but she was lovely
still her powerful, natural presence enhanced by a mature, confident beauty. It could only be Lady
Chelisand, the cousin Trey found so
193 Denise Rossetti
formidable. The resemblance was there in the set of her cheekbones and her auburn hair, several shades
darker than Trey s. The High Priestess cocked her head to one side and scanned Anje s face, feature by
feature. But when their eyes met and tangled, Chelisand snatched her hands back as if they d been
singed.
Pressing her lips together, she stepped away and bowed her head, a dignified, graceful gesture that
conceded very little.  You honor us.
She turned to Brin, the gown parting on one side to reveal a slice of creamy flesh, all the way to her hip.
She wore nothing beneath.  You were right, shaman, she said.  She s the one. A delicate brow arched
in Anje s direction.  What s your name, Child of the Mother?
The link flared with warmth and Brin s calloused palm came to rest hard and comforting on Anje s [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]