The Twelfth Stone
an excerpt

Hours later, Ellya was awakened by voices rising and falling around her. She cracked open her eyes and looked up.

Darkness had fallen. She couldn't see a thing, the blackness was so thick.

"Old woman, you must leave at once. Commoners are not allowed in the camp of the Razaka."

"I say, I will not leave here until I see them."

It was Makeshfa's voice. Makeshfa was here. Ellya stifled a giggle. Of course she wouldn't let them go without some goodbye, some explanation for the turn her life had taken today. Why did Makeshfa think this was a good idea; Makeshfa who cared not at all about the Temple and the future of the Empire? Makeshfa expected her to sit and sell herbs in a tiny stall in the souk her whole life. Why now did she wish her to travel across the Empire, and for a child she didn't even know?

Outside, the soldier was still arguing with Makeshfa.

"Of course you can't see them. You need to leave before the other soldiers come back and find you here. I tell you this for your own good, not for my health."

"Oh, never mind about your health. You take my grandchildren on a journey halfway across the world. I will see them."

Ellya heard more footsteps approaching. She sat up quickly.

A deep voice echoed through the camp. "What is going on here?"

"This old woman is here to see the children. She says..."

"Woman. Are you the herb-seller, the one they call the hedge-witch?"

"Makeshfa. It's a pleasure, I'm sure." Ellya could hear the sarcasm dripping in her voice, but the soldier did not seem to notice.

"Hedge-witch, I will make you a deal. I will let you in to see the little brats, in return for a cure for my foot. I have been limping on it for almost a year now, and no one has been able to heal it. Is it a deal?"

Ellya could imagine Makeshfa rolling her eyes at such a simple bribe. "An injury of the foot is a simple herb mixture."

"Nhili. Let her go in to them for a moment. It will do no harm."

"But sir--"

"Just do it!"

In a second, Makeshfa was inside, embracing Ellya. Ellya could not remember a time when the old woman had done that before.

"Listen carefully, child," she said, almost silently. "We only have a moment."

Ellya nodded towards the still sleeping Kali.

"You have a greater destiny than hawking herbs in the souk all your life, child. And the Little One needs to be protected."

"But why me?"

"There is one last thing I haven't told you. Listen well. I found you, not on the street, but in your mother's house."

"You knew her?" Ellya gasped. "I thought she--"

"She had already passed into the hands of the Goddess when I came to bring her curing soup. She was sick with the plague. I was too late to save her, but you were there, and I took you."

"Why?"

Makeshfa sighed. "I needed a helper. Ellya could feel weariness in her voice. "Cruel as it was to take a baby, I knew you would be gifted with herbs."

Ellya stared at her. How could anyone know that about a tiny child?

"I never meant to tell you this, young one, because I hated so much the shallowness of the temple practice. I wanted to keep you for myself. Selfish, I know."

"Grandmother?"

Makeshfa looked away. "Your mother was Alezbana."

Ellya looked at her. "The maker of the katara for the Temple?? But how could she be--"

"Yes. A priestess."

"But that means I..."

"I never brought you to the Temple on your fifth birthday, child. I meant to, but once I had you, I couldn't bear to give you up. Especially to them. I'm sorry, child."

Ellya shook her head in shock. How could she be a priestess? Inside she knew it was true, but how could she not have known?

"And my father?"

"A commoner. Your mother left the Temple to marry him, because she loved him. And because she was pregnant with you."

"But she kept making the incense."

"Yes, the katara they offer every morning. Mixing the spices and herbs like that is a gift, Ellya. Your father was devastated to lose her. He was gone before I arrived, maybe to the desert."

A harsh voice interrupted them. "Enough, woman! Out with you now!"

"One minute," answered Makeshfa. "Child. Go to Kahdz. There you can choose who you will be. A priestess, a commoner, an orphan, a bastard. I do not know which you will choose there, but at least it will be your choice. Remember that."

She kissed Ellya on the forehead, and then slipped past her to the soldiers.

"But Grandmother?"

"Goddess Bless, child."

She spoke crisply to the soldier at the doorway.

"Come to my shop at dawn, before the first prayer-bell. I will give your fellow his due."

Ellya watched her disappear into the darkness.