Scorpion Rising

Thirteen

In the Hall of the Pentagram, the flickering candles turned the robes of the priestesses iridescent as they took their seats round the star-shaped table. Sparkling silver next to flashing yellow. Shimmering brown beside flaming red. Sinuous black merging with silver again. But this tableau of elegance and sophistication was betrayed by the rapid amount of finger flicking, hand tossing, signing and gesticulating that passed between the five women. An infusion of lime blossom and lavender simmered softly in the corner. It did nothing to calm the mood of the meeting.

'I don't understand why this Claudia creature is so interested in Clytie,' Fearn flashed furiously.

'Is she?' Dora countered. 'So interested, I mean, rather than simply interested? After all, a twelve-year-old girl was murdered, one of our novices, then her body moved, painted and artfully arranged. Wouldn't that fire anyone's curiosity?'

'That woman doesn't strike me as the type to engage in morbid curiosity for its own sake,' Luisa signed, with an agitated fluff of her rowan-red gown.

'Typical.' Dora rolled her eyes in disgust. 'Decline has barely spoken to the girl, yet once again she's treating us with the benefit of her expert opinion.'

'My judgement's based on instinct and observation the same as yours,' Luisa retorted hotly, 'so don't you dare presume to question it.'

'It might be based on the same criteria, my dear, but it doesn't follow that it's sound.'

'The point is,' Fearn cut in, 'someone needs to tell that meddling bitch to keep her nose out of our affairs!'

'Curiosity killed the cat,' Luisa signed, looking at no one in particular.

'People come to the Hundred-Handed for guidance and healing.' Beth stood up and began to pace the room. 'They're bound to be curious about what this College stands for, its beliefs, its customs, its laws. But on this occasion I do find myself agreeing with Growth.'

Fearn gave a told-you-so toss of her raven black hair in Dora's direction. Luisa wrinkled her nose in support.

'Claudia's curiosity does bother me,' Beth added.

'She's questioned Vanessia, Aridella and Lin,' Fearn pointed out. 'She's talked to Gurdo.'

'And Mavor and Swarbric,' the Rowan Priestess listed helpfully. 'And they're just the ones that we know of.'

Beth circled the table twice then sat down, smoothing her silver gown flat.

'What convinces me that Claudia's questioning goes beyond straightforward prying is that she enquired about souls, isn't that right, Ailm?'

The Death Priestess threw her hands in the air.

'You slated me for not getting involved in the witchcraft vote, yet it's midsummer tomorrow, the second most important date in the calendar after the New Year, yet the best you can talk about is some stupid Roman who'll be gone from here in two days.'

She stood up and marched to the door, her black robes billowing behind her.

'I'll be casting the death runes if anyone wants me.'

'Ailm is right, of course,' Beth signed, as the door reverberated on its hinges, extinguishing half a dozen or more candles. 'I don't underestimate how unsettling it is for — well, all of us to have a stranger stirring up this unfortunate tragedy, but we do need to maintain perspective.'

She glanced at Dora, who stared impassively back.

'If, after two days, you wish to call another Pentagram, Fearn, should the problem still persist, then you may do so. Until then, though, and since my vote is worth three and Ailm's opinion we know, I declare this assembly null and void, and since it never took place, we will not speak of it again.'

'Now can I go and get my lunch?' Dora asked aloud, and though it was to Fearn and Luisa that her words were addressed, it was to the Head of the College that her fingers signalled once behind her back. The message that the priestess flashed was simple.

Thank you.'