The Stone by the Stream (Part 5)

“Didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” the acolyte said as soon as Cynthia arrived at the temple the next morning. Just as before, she stood sweeping the floor beside the entranceway.

Cynthia wondered if she ever did anything else.

“I have an audience with a priestess,” Cynthia said.

“Oh, I know that. I just didn’t expect you to show up. Especially after last night.”

“What do you know about last night?”

“I know you met with Agatha. I know she invited you to speak with the priestess,” the acolyte said. Facing abruptly down at her broom she added, “And I know one other thing.”

The inhuman sound in the night echoed in Cynthia’s memory.

“What do you know?”

Still with eyes down on her sweeping, the acolyte’s lips curled maliciously. “I know a man named Silas was found drowned in the night.”

“Drowned?”

“Drowned in less than six inches of water.”

“Drowned…”

“So I’m surprised you showed up. You were in the area, weren’t you? But anyway, it makes me wonder what you think you’ll learn from the priestess.”

“Listen, that man’s death had nothing to do with me — ”

“Of course it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. But what are you doing here, anyway?”

“Nothing’s changed with me,” Cynthia said. “I just want to know about the clearing, the naiads, and the Goddess. This is the place to learn, I’ve been told.”

“Well, don’t let me stand in the way of your quest for knowledge,” the acolyte said, standing aside from the entryway with an elaborate mocking bow.

Cynthia stepped through the threshold into the main chamber with as much dignity as she could stir within her. Still, the death of Silas chilled her heart and bones. Which one had been Silas? She tried, but couldn’t remember his face — couldn’t remember any of the men’s faces except for the red-haired Bartholomew.

And yet this faceless man had been alive and well last night, standing not thirty feet from her.

And now he was dead.

The incense-filled main chamber was as empty as it had been on her previous visit two days before. Only a woman in acolyte’s robes stood at one end of the room, before the door to the Chamber of Initiation. Cynthia approached her, hesitating, wishing she could think of another way to find out about the stone — and what it had to do with her family. Before she could make it halfway there, however, someone grabbed her left shoulder hard and jerked her to the side.

It was the acolyte from the entranceway. Cynthia stumbled for words through her shock as the woman leaned close in to her ear, close enough that Cynthia could feel the moisture of her breath down her ear and neck.

“And one last thing,” the acolyte said. “If you had any desire to learn about the gods, the Temple of the Huntress is the last place you should have visited.”

Quick as that, the acolyte released her and headed back outside, whistling a clownish tune as she walked. Cynthia’s gaze was fixed on the acolyte with her uncanny walk until she stepped out of the main chamber.

Shaking the woman’s words from her mind, she walked to the entrance to the Chamber of Initiation and told the unknown acolyte at the door, “I have an audience with a priestess this morning.”

“Very good. You are Cynthia?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost. I’ll take you to the reception chamber. Put this on first,” the woman said, holding up a scarlet silk ribbon.

Cynthia took the ribbon, a question on her face.

“Over your eyes, girl, and hurry!”

“… a blindfold?”

“What else did you think it could be?”

“I don’t understand why this is necessary.”

“The reception room can only be entered through the Chamber of Initiation. And you, little girl, are no Initiate.”

With some grumbling, Cynthia pulled the blindfold over her eyes and fastened it in the back. She could make out nothing through the red veil except a vague sensation of light beyond. The woman checked the blindfold, prodding at Cynthia’s cheekbones and brow to ensure she didn’t cheat. Cynthia bit her lower lip and bore it in silence.

She heard the doors grate open, the movement of the heavy stones sending vibrations through the floors. Immediately she sensed a difference in the air — a damp chill greeted her, cloying with a heavy scent of mildew. The woman grabbed her hand and jerked her forward.

The hand was ice to the touch.

Before they took many steps forward any trace of the incense that filled the main chamber was long gone. The sensation of light was gone as well — Cynthia could see nothing but blackness despite the color of the blindfold. At first she tried to count her paces and track the left and right turns as they twisted through the unseen chamber, but the twists were so many and so frequent that her mind could not keep pace with her body.

After several minutes of this the woman released Cynthia’s hand and pressed lightly on both of her shoulders, signaling her to be seated. Blindly, she did so, coming to rest on a cold bench of moist rock, however smooth and polished to the touch. She still could not make out any sign of light through her blindfold.

“I will leave you here,” the woman said. “Keep the blindfold on. The priestess will see you at her pleasure. Do you understand?”

Cynthia nodded. She suddenly recalled the sweeping acolyte’s warning that the Temple of the Huntress was the last place she should want to learn about the gods.

“We have ways of knowing if you remove the blindfold, little girl.”

“Come now,” came a new voice that sounded as if echoing down a hallway. “Why do you have to be so harsh with the girl? She’s probably regretting she agreed to come in for a little chat with me by now. It’s very rude, shame on you.”

A warm voice, kindly and refreshing. Cynthia immediately distrusted its owner, yet she found she also wanted very much to trust her.

“My apologies, priestess. I was only fulfilling the will of the Goddess as I understood it.”

“Well, no doubt this was somebody’s idea of a warm welcome,” said the priestess. By the sound of her footsteps and voice, Cynthia knew she’d entered the room and was standing a few feet to her left. “Anyway, leave us. Oh, and close the door behind you.”

“Yes, priestess.”

There was the creak of old hinges and the click of a door shutting. Then more footsteps, the tap of a wooden chair being placed just opposite Cynthia, and a relaxed sigh as the priestess settled into the chair.

“I’m sincerely sorry you’ve been received this way, Cynthia. I don’t know who was responsible, but trust me, I’ll find out. Blindfolded and dragged back here like a prisoner — might give you the wrong idea about the Temple’s intentions!”

“And what are the Temple’s intentions?”

The priestess sighed contentedly. “You can take the blindfold off if you like. We need to talk about your upcoming Initiation.”