Prophecy of Power: Quarry

Chapter 1

Three millennia, seven centuries, and seventy-one years after the Seism.

The Season of New Life.

Prime Year of the Divine Lady Marnier du Shae,

Mistress of Healing, Goddess of Purpose.

Princess Caroline duFandelyon stared in numb horror at the luminous outlines on the insides of her wrists.

She lay on her hard bed, bare arms above her, appalled. She'd come to the abbey to birth an illegitimate child under the pretext of piety, and now the Goddess of Healing had marked her for her temerity.

A blessing to anyone else, she couldn't imagine a worse rebuke, not even death. She'd been called to Divine Service - a punishment to last her entire life. Did she dare defy the Divine Lady who now demanded Caroline's devotion? She thought she might.

Yet the King's Guard had orders to return with her today - a perfect solution. She meant to leave before a Divine Servant noticed and forced her to confront her calling.

Hands trembling, she took a deep breath and pulled her heavy covers back, the hardwood floor smooth under her bare feet. She quickly pulled on her riding dress and boots and threw her royal-blue travel cloak around her shoulders. Her clothes were too tight, but there was no time to get them altered - she'd worn only the order's pale yellow robes since last autumn, and she'd grown considerably in that time.

Footsteps approached along the corridor and Caroline stiffened as an acolyte stopped at her open doorway; Bharise, her common olive skin and dark curly hair setting off her pale robes. Caroline caught her breath when she noticed the shimmering alimoth flowers on the insides of the young Servant's wrists - something she'd never been able to see before. A dream. It had to be.

"Everything's prepared, Your Highness," Bharise said, staring up at Caroline as if she noticed something different.

Caroline felt her cheeks flush with shame. The girl knew, somehow. "Thank you Bharise. I'll be down in a moment." As the acolyte's footsteps retreated Caroline buried her face in her spare riding dress.

"It's ironic, don't you think?"

Caroline jumped, a loose strand of her curly red hair drooping over her face. She dropped the dress on her bed, turning back. Tarine, the abbey's High Priestess, entered her room in a swish of richly embroidered golden robes. Easily a foot shorter than Caroline and barely half her weight, Tarine's presence nevertheless intimidated. The severely pulled-back greying hair didn't soften her image. With her clan heritage Caroline had always been tall. She stood a head above almost everyone now, yet she still felt like a small child confronting Tarine.

"I-ironic?" Caroline stammered as she hurriedly stuffed the heavy dress in her travel pack, making certain her sleeves didn't slip back and expose her wrists. She had to leave.

"How you came here under the pretext of finding your calling?" Tarine glanced pointedly at Caroline's wrists, her expression suggesting Caroline was no more worthy of Divine Service today than she'd been half a year ago. "Did you even pray to our Goddess while you were here, guile aside?"

Caroline looked away, shamed. Only three Servants knew why she'd come here, and Tarine was one. "I've imposed upon you too long, High Priestess," she said, hoping to divert the woman.

Tarine pulled her own sleeves back. Like the acolyte, a single alimoth flower glowed on the inside of each wrist.

Caroline kept her eyes on the swarthy woman's features, determined not to acknowledge what she saw.