Page 132 of The Ragpicker King
And squarely between them, seated on a wooden chair, was Mariam.
Prepare yourself,Mayesh had said, but the shock was still like being shaken out of a strange dream. Lin had imagined many kinds of tests, but none of them had involved anyone but herself. What was Mariam doing here? She looked up at Mayesh, but he was staring straight ahead, his dark eyes fixed on the Exilarch.
“Lin Caster,” said Aron, his voice carrying through the Shulamat. “Come closer to the Almenor. Mayesh Bensimon, if you please, go stand among the witnesses.”
If you please.It was an order, however politely phrased. Mayesh patted Lin’s hand once before moving to join the other men. Facing the Almenor, Lin moved with slow deliberation down the aisle. She was aware of the weight of the stares on her as she went, curious eyes in familiar faces. The Sault was small; she recognized each one of them. What did they want, she wondered. To see her succeed, or to see her fail?
Just before the raised platform of the Almenor was a cleared circular space, ringed with candles. In the center of the ring was, curiously, a low divan, covered by a white blanket.
“Lin.” Mariam’s voice, thin but strong, cut through the silence. “Lin, I didn’t know. What the test would be.”
Lin looked at her friend, huddled on the hard wooden chair between the Exilarch and the Maharam. Mariam’s eyes were wide and dark in her thin face. She was clutching a pink shawl around her shoulders. “Mari,” Lin said, “I’m so sorry. I never thought they would involve you—”
“It was the choice of the council,” said Aron. “And by that choice we must all abide.”
Lin wanted to be furious with him, but she could see the real regret behind his eyes. He might not show it to the Maharam, to the council, but this would not have been the test he would have chosen.
She could not help but think of Conor, of what Kel had said in the carriage.It’s not because he loves Anjelica that this is all he can offer you. It’s because he loves Castellane.
Just as Conor had to put his people above his own choices, so did Aron. They were not so different, the Prince and the Exilarch.
As she watched him, Aron raised his voice and said, “Children of Aram. We are those who wait, but we have not always waited. Once we had our Goddess among us; once we thrived in our own land. Once we did not live within walls to keep ourselves safe, but walked proudly in our own streets, in our own cities, among our armies and our towers, our ships and fleets, our places of worship and celebration.”
The eyes of the witnesses were fixed on Aron. As worried as Lin was, she could not deny that he had the ability, apparently inborn, to hold a crowd. The words touched something inside her, too. Something deep and never lost—the dream of a true home.
“Now we live in exile. But it will not always be this way. One day, our Goddess will return. One day, Aram will flower again. The Goddess chooses the vessel by which she will return to us. That is why we hold the Tevath yearly; why we invite the Goddess to speak from the mouth of she who holds our Lady within.” His gaze passed over Lin. “Lin Caster has made the claim. The claim that the Goddess resides within her. And we must give her a chance to prove this claim.”
Lin held Aron’s gaze. She would not look away, however fearful for Mariam she might be. She could not show her fear, her concern, in front of those gathered here.
“We must offer to the Goddess the chance to show us the truth of who she is,” said Aron, his voice like honey over thorns. She could not help but wonder who the thorns were for—herself, or those in the council who had chosen this particular test? “TheGoddess healed, they say, with a touch. Your test, Lin Caster, is to heal your friend Mariam. Put your hands on her and heal her.”
It was all Lin could do to hide her shock.Heal Mariam?As if everyone in the Sault did not know that was all she had been trying to do for years. It felt like a slap—as if they were saying plainly:You have never been able to do this before. How can you possibly do it now?
And yet. They were also giving her a chance. A chance she would never otherwise have had.
Aron helped Mariam from her chair. He was solicitous, careful as he led her from the platform to the ring of fire and settled her onto the white-blanketed divan. He murmured something Lin could not hear and Mariam lay down, her hands crossed over her chest, her gaze upturned.
Aron gestured for Lin to approach. As she did, she thought suddenly of the Ragpicker King, of the steady sound of his voice.
You can lay your hand on magic, Lin. Concentrate not on faking your way through these tests, or on the time you imagine is growing ever shorter before you. Concentrate onpassingthe test. I believe you can.
She was standing over Mariam now. Mariam was gazing piously at the ceiling, but as Lin looked down at her, she turned her head, just a little, and winked. And something in Lin’s chest lifted. She took hold of Mariam’s hands and drew them apart, laying her arms on either side of her, and placed her palms on Mariam’s chest, flat, just beside her heart.
She reached down inside herself. Down below her deepest memories of her mother’s laugh, her father’s voice. Of Mayesh lifting her, tossing her in the air. Of the enormity of a dark-orange butterfly landing atop the back of her hand. Of the surge of water spilling into the harbor after a day of storm.
The Source-Stone grew warmer against her chest, and she could feel the energy within it, flowing into her. The burning power in the King’s blood—a power more ancient than the Sundering, a power born in the morning of the world, when wonders were as common as field mice. It flowed into her and through her; itsurrounded her. She reached out and easily plucked a word from the void:wholeness.She drew upon it.Contagionrose, and she dismissed it. Other words came that she did not know, but that expressed repair and healing, health and strength. She reached out even further then, as the shape of a powerful word revealed itself—one of the most powerful words. One that the knowledge placed in the highest sphere of words, higher than heaven.
Life.
She caught the word and drew it down. There was a bright, sharp feeling within her. She thought she could see her own bones through the skin of her hands, as if they glowed like torches.
Mariam gasped, and her back arched under Lin’s hands. A dark fluid was seeping from Mariam’s chest—no, not seeping, but pulsing fast, like blood from an artery.
Lin kept her hands glued to Mariam while black fluid pattered to the floor like dark rain. The candles guttered as if in a wind as Aron raced to the edge of the Almenor.
Mariam sat up. She laid a hand over her chest, her expression full of amazement. She looked wildly at Lin. Her face was flushed with healthy color, as Lin had not seen it in years. Lin watched, her heart in her throat, as Mariam took a deep breath—her chest expanding, her mouth opening wide with surprise as her lungs filled. “It doesn’t hurt,” she said in amazement. “It doesn’t hurt—”
The Maharam was pale and staring. From all around Lin came a murmur of rising voices, wonder and horror. They seemed strangely far away, almost muffled.
