The Curse of Kalathan

Seven: Shrine

They crossed over into the province of Paristia and reached the shrine on the fifth day. It was cloudy, and raining a little, and Trina was relieved to see the small stone building at the crest of the small hill, its arched doorways and curly spire marking it clearly as a temple shrine. The fat priest had been all business that morning, actually calling for hot water to wash himself and changing his dirty robe for a clean one from his pack. He even put his flask away, riding at the head of the party with the guards. But his fake piety didn't fool Trina. Last night Uka had crawled back into their tent when they had finally finished their work, almost hysterical after he had grabbed her arm and pulled her behind one of the men's tents. He had tried to open her dress, and had pressed his dreadful mouth to hers, and she had only managed to run away when Kaspar had walked past so close that the priest had let her go to avoid discovery. Trina had tried to comfort the shivering girl, angry and sad for what they had both suffered.

Would it always be like this – people like her and Uka at the mercy of everyone else just because of the way they had been born? She thought of Theo, and the compassion and understanding she thought she had sensed the night before. If he was going to be the king one day, then perhaps there was hope. She had lain awake the night before, dreaming of what Kalathan might be like with a king like him. She had considered telling him about the priest and Uka, but decided it was not worth the risk of not being believed. She had a feeling he would probably believe her, but it was just a feeling, a sense she didn't trust yet. The word of a female servant against a priest's – her experience told her it wasn't likely.

She had glared daggers at the back of the priest's head as she brought him his hot water, though, and to her surprise he had looked up at her. Not to thank her, of course, but to give her a look that first angered, then puzzled her. He had been only brusque and rude with her during the journey so far; ordering her about and finding fault with everything she did. She was sure that he did not recognise her and she had no desire to remind him. But today he had spared her a glance, and Trina had thought for a moment that she had seen pity in it. Smug, supercilious pity. She bristled inwardly as she left him the water and returned to the fire where she was still preparing breakfast. Pompous old goat, she thought, stirring the porridge and wishing she could say it to his face. Why should he feel sorry for her all of a sudden, after treating her like dirt? She didn't want his, or anyone else's sympathy.

He stayed sombre and serious during the sword ceremony, offering his own blood, and she watched him, thinking to herself that she had learnt something on this journey. Being a priest had nothing to do with holiness. This priest was a hypocrite, preaching piety and uprightness, yet his heart was selfish and cruel.

Uka's nervousness and excitement was contagious as they reached the shrine and dismounted. "What will they sacrifice?" she asked, looking around her.

"I don't know," said Trina, as three priests appeared at the doorway and made their way down the steps to speak to Theo and the priest. "Do they have these shrines in the north?"

Uka nodded. "We sacrifice cows," she said. "Sometimes an ox or a bull. But there are no animals here. Have you never seen a sacrifice?"

Trina shook her head. "My parents were not religious," she said. "We attended the temple services, but we didn't do anything more. We never went on pilgrimages or visited shrines." In the past that admission would have caused her to feel ashamed and exposed, but she didn't care anymore. Father was dead and Mother was far away. Nobody cared about her religious habits.

"My family had the best harvest they had ever had after a sacrifice to the Spirit of Plenty," said Uka. "We gave up a cow but we were blessed after that. Maybe this Spirit is different." She looked wistfully at the shrine, as if she would have liked to go in and make a sacrifice herself.