The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 8: Kings: Section IV: Qwella

Qwella: The Temple of Qalita: Qemassen

Dansila, Sadat, and Elishah were a line of painted dolls, necks slender and long, features so even as to have been carved from marble. Their hair was lush, dark, and tamed beautifully, their skin like bronze. What efforts they must make to appear so synchronous, like goddesses themselves. Whatever niceness Dansila pretended at, it was clear that she knew her beauty, that she believed it was she, and not Qwella, who looked the princess.

A whiff of sandalwood drifted past Qwella's nose, and she sniffed, another sneeze coming on. She sucked it back. The scent wasn't the smell of incense from the small prayer room, but Dansila's favoured oil.

"We came to speak with you, Sese," Dansila murmured, head bowed.

Qwella smiled ruefully and stood from her seated position before Qalita's statue.

They all knew it was inappropriate for Qwella to be appended the honorific. This was mockery dressed up as propriety. Well, Qwella might be easily flustered, but she wasn't a fool, and she was older than Dansila and all her friends.

"What about?" Qwella pursed her lips.

"The role Daana et-Titrit gave you in today's exorcism, and your brother's unfortunate condition."

When Daana had come to Qwella to ask if she would take part in Ashtaroth's exorcism she'd nearly laughed. It seemed an ill-conceived joke that her little brother should have need of such a thing. He'd always been quiet and bookish, but if that was all it took to become possessed, then Qwella must be as susceptible as Ashtaroth to the attentions of demons.

"How kind of you," Qwella replied. "I'll inform him of your concern, if I have a chance to speak with him."

That seemed to give Dansila pause. She mustn't have expected such an offer. To be mentioned even in passing to the crown prince was a great honour.

"I thank you." Dansila said, without her usual enmity.

The three women looked up.

Qwella continued to smile. She really ought to get going to the baths to prepare for the ritual. "There's no need. He'll appreciate the gesture."

"The crown prince is most gracious." Poison flashed in Dansila's eyes. "There was another thing, before you return to your duties."

Sadat glanced at her leader. "We were concerned about your part in the ceremony."

"It seems strangely chosen," squeaked Elishah.

"It seems that you are inappropriately favoured above the rest of us." Dansila's voice was thick with self-righteousness. "Above even the Ashqata. And surely, if an acolyte is to take part, a more experienced girl should have been chosen―Eshant et-Loriqa, for instance? She's been here a long time. And there's Nunat—she's nearly an Ashqat herself."

So, this was their game. Qwella shouldn't be surprised. She met Dansila's stare. "And you, Dansila, there's you." Besides, Eshant was helping with the exorcism.

Dansila's full lips puckered. "We've discussed it, and we agree you should decline the honour in favour of one of the others."

Qwella all but scoffed. Who was Dansila to command her? If she acquiesced to Dansila's demands now, it would only prove to Dansila that she could order Qwella around. "I will do no such thing. Ashtaroth is my brother; that's why I was chosen."

Sadat sniffed. "We have no brothers, only sisters here."

"It's because you're the king's daughter, that's all." Elishah's voice was flush with spite.