The matins bells rang, waking Martha from a deep restorative sleep. She stared tenderly at her baby sleeping snuggled in the crook of her arm. Miracle child. Blessed Sophia. The fulfillment of Mother Sain's vision. A secret known to the two of them. The Bishop had sent a nun to their table, to whisper to her, plain old Martha, that the Reverend Mother wished a meeting in her private garden. Laughing, eating and drinking as they shared the Feast of the Goddess, the others around her hadn't noticed. Only a speculative Sister Clare watched the Bishop's secretary/attendant return to her place beside the wheelchair.
Martha had lowered her eyes and returned to working her way through her meal in tentative noble style, her thoughts flooded first with wonder, then as she sprinkled herbs on her meal, regret. She pushed down the sudden arousal deep inside as Dante's grin swam before her. He had used her asking for help learning the proper way to eat as an excuse to put his arms around her and nuzzle the back of her neck. She giggled. The both of them shameless in front of Dad and Reba. She had blinked back tears, picking at her beans before she had continued the sacred meal. He needed to know the power of his daughter, his Magic Mouse.
Martha sat up and placed Sophia in the crib. She must call home, they would be worrying and wondering. Martha cursed her hopelessness with machines. At the pay box in the bus station at Mary Delight, despite repeated tries, the computer at the other end rang and rang with no answer, not even picking up to take a message. She had done something wrong. Martha decided to get Sister Clare to help her.
She dressed and woke Sophia for a diaper change. They headed off for Matins, Martha delighted at participating in yet another service. Resentment flared. Reba, who couldn't care less, had attended many services in her role as lady's maid. Martha's endless duties had prevented any visits to the gatherings at the local shrine and grove.
To her surprise, nuns, novices, guests and servants swept the floor, washed the tables and set out the breakfast.
"Come on, many hands make light work. No slaves here," called out Sister Clare waving her over. "All are equal in Her sight and all is done for Her glory."
Martha gladly adjusted Sophia to her back and picked up a cloth. Soon all sat down to an informal service and meal. Children full of laughter and chatter, ran here and there, under and around the tables. After prayers, many hands passed pots of tea, huge bowls of porridge, platters of strawberries, shakers of sugar and pitchers of cream, reminding Martha of the old rhyme:
Martha thought it an odd poem, since in truth she'd rather clean the dishes or feed the pigs than sew. The fresh spring strawberries and cream on porridge suited her fine. She placed Sophia on her lap, the same as many of the others, though some used little chairs attached to the sides of the tables. The baby solemnly watched the spoon dip in the porridge then make its way into her mother's mouth. Martha presented her with a spoonful and in it popped, as if Sophia was a baby lizard.
"She's enjoying that," laughed Clare as she extracted her own spoon from the sticky fingers of her child and handed it a teaspoon.
"What's your baby's name?" asked Martha.
"He's Adonis," grinned Clare. "After his father and the Festival of his conception, " For a moment the taxi driver laughed in the baby's eyes. Surely not. The boy decided to destroy his mother's porridge, dashing gray and pink splashes all over the table. Sister Clare dipped a cloth into the bowl of water provided for sticky babies and turned her attention to him. "Good job I'm wearing an apron," she remarked.
"Could you help me after matins?" asked Martha. "I want to call home and in Mary Delight, I couldn't get the computer to work. I'm hopeless when it comes to machines."
The nun nodded, absorbed in cleaning her son and herself with a napkin.
"Mary Delight?" asked a noble beside her. "Isn't that where the massacre happened?"
"No, further north. Out in the boonies," said the woman sitting across from them.
"What massacre?" asked Martha.
"It's been on all the news. A transpo turned rogue, murdered his owner and everyone on the farm," the woman's voice lowered. "Raped all the women. They're hunting him all over the outback."
"I'm sure it's nowhere near your home," reassured Sister Clare. "The territories are a huge place. You know how these reports go. One isolated incident in the middle of nowhere and everybody locks their doors in fear."
"The north certainly has its share of troubles," said the noblewoman. "What with all the illegal babies his Excellency discovered over the last few days. Seems like every slave child under two has been killed."
Martha's eyes widened. Her blood drained down to her toes. Sophia watched her spoonful of breakfast drop back into the bowl. A chubby hand reached out to explore the porridge, imitating her new baby friend. Martha took no notice.
"Prince Yevgeny's gone mad,"said Clare.
"Shhh," hissed another nun.
"You think it's right to murder babies?" snapped Clare. "Reverend Mother, herself, has condemned it. There shouldn't be slaves at all. It's disgusting, owning people."
"Next you'll quote Blessed Kore that we shouldn't own any creature," snickered the noblewoman. "Besides, where would all the slaves go? Who'd provide for them?"
"Sister's right. All this fear a slave might get magic. No one had magic once. This is horrible," said the other nun. "You've a lot to learn Gabriella. Just as Sister Clare needs to remember that soon we'll have Yevgeny's Queen wife as our Reverend Mother."
"That's not such a bad thing," said the woman across from Martha. "She's the only reason he's not removed our order from the temple and invaded Free Alabama."
"The escaped transpos hiding there are going to be that state's undoing,"remarked Lady Gabriella. "Not that Alabama can help it with all the unexplored jungle."
"Come on, Martha. I hate these kind of conversations," muttered Sister Clare. "We discuss but do nothing, while mothers weep and lovers burn. It's criminal. I'll help you with your call now." She smiled at a sticky Sophia and Adonis. "At least once we've cleaned up the babies anyway." She dipped a fresh cloth into the cleaning bowl and handed it to Martha with a smile.
Sister Clare watched while Martha punched in the number on the pay computer. The screen blossomed with the logo of Uninet, before stating, "This number is no longer in service. Please reenter your code or consult the directory." An icon of fingers walking appeared in case Martha wished to consult the listings.
"You did everything right, far as I can see," said Clare with a frown. "Try again."
Martha pressed again, the same words spoke to them. Sister Clare tried with the same result.
"Let's look in the directory, perhaps you have a number wrong," said the nun. "Where do you come from, again?"
"It would be Madam Elizabeth the Healer. Village of Endor. Northern Territory. I guess," replied Martha. "The clinic's known all over the area."
Sister Clare pressed the appropriate icons on the screen. She bit her lip as the answer echoed through the empty lounge.
"Codes for the Endor Clinic and Farm, Madam Elizabeth, Healer, are no longer in service. For medical problems, please consult the directory for healers, District of Endor."
"I don't understand," said Martha turning a worried look towards Clare. The same nasty thought popped into both of their minds."Maybe I should call Master Richard," she paused, "Just, I've never talked to him. I wouldn't know what to say." Clare sent her a studied look and Martha realized with horror that she'd slipped. Dead babies fell into her mind. She stammered, "I mean, uh, Uncle Richard."
"Let me check the news feeds," murmured Clare. She touched the menu. Her baby started a little grizzle. "Shush Adonis."
Charred smoking ruins overwhelmed the screen. Transpo Massacre in Northern Territories ran the title across the top. Nothing looked familiar. The screen switched to a live feed from a slick haired reporter on the scene. A stiff breeze tugged the ends of his dark cloak around his calves. "Police and a citizen's posse are still searching the wilderness for the escaped transpo responsible for the blood bath near Endor. Lady Mary of Eastwick and her baby, Madam Tamara of Westnaught, all patients at the clinic, Madam Elizabeth who was Matriarch of the House of Endor, and their slaves were murdered and the farm set on fire."
"Dad and Reba, no, no," whispered Martha.
Clare reached out and put an arm around her. The scene changed to a police constable interviewing a pale and stricken Master Richard.
"I told Mother and I told her," he stated, his voice tight. "But she wouldn't see. That a retarded transpo, there had to be something really wrong. Gaia, he's a big brute too." Richard stared at the floor of his study. "He began bothering the women. Raped one of the slaves and got her pregnant."
"Never. He never," breathed Martha.
"She should have let me get rid of him, instead of selling him away," whispered Richard.
"Can you describe him?" asked the constable.
"A big brute, as I said. Six feet, build like a fighter. But no brains. He doesn't speak. He's scarred on his face from an accident. Makes him sinister looking. Course he has those transpo scars." Richard clenched and unclenched his fists. "Blonde curly hair. Umm. I'm not sure what colour eyes."
The screen flashed back to the reporter.
"There you have it," he said. "Area residents are advised to use their alarm systems and not open their doors or gates to strangers. Any suspicious transients, anything out of the ordinary, should be reported. Tips are filling our hotline from as far away as Windego."
The screen flashed the front of the state legislative building in Free Alabama. A large crowd carrying placards, megaphones and whistles milled about in front.
"In other news," stated a voice over. "His Excellency, Prince Yevgeny, has taken his purity campaign south to an unwelcome reception...."
"I'm sorry," said Clare snapping off the computer.
"I have to go home," said Martha, her face drained and pasty. "I have to go home. Now."
"I think we should go to Reverend Mother," decided Clare. "She wants to see you anyway, doesn't she?"
"No, I have to go home. Right now."
Martha hugged Sophia to her. The baby cuddled into her mother, feeling the tension.
Sister Clare took charge, "First you see the Bishop, then go."
She propelled Martha out of the lounge, glad of the Matins emptiness of the room. They marched down a long hall to a firm wooden door carved with the goddess tree. Sister Clare knocked, then entered. The tall thin nun who had watched over Mother Sain during vespers, glanced up from her desk beside another door to the Bishop's office.
"Sister Mary, we wish to see Reverend Mother," reported Clare.
"She waits for you in her garden," the nun replied as she rose.
The two women followed the attendant into a red floored office cluttered with journals, computer equipment, and books -- all piled on low tables. A glass double door with brass handles opened onto a walled garden. Spring rushed past them to riffle through the papers, oblivious to the world's troubles.
Mother Sain sat in her wheelchair in a corner of the garden, leaning forward and studying the leaves of a bush with small yellow flowers. The late morning sun warmed, bees buzzed, lizards twanged and sang, the wicked seemed long ago and far away. The priestess straightened and turned her chair at their approach. Martha started. A shadowy death pall covered her. The Bishop beamed at the sight of Sophia clinging to her mother's hip.
"Madam Martha... Sorry, I didn't catch your power diminutive," said the secretary.
"Healer," replied Martha quickly. The description fit her magic as well as any and, now, who else would own it?
"Madam Martha, the Healer, of the House of Endor."
Martha and Sister Clare produced grave curtsies, bobbing their heads. Sister Clare turned to leave.
"No, stay daughter Clare," murmured the Reverend Mother. "I believe my greeting nun has welcomed her destiny with the visitor she has tucked under her wing."
"Yes, Mother," said Clare.
The ancient nun beckoned to Martha. "You see that I die, don't you?" Her words shocked Martha. How could she know? "Don't worry. I've been dying for a long time and now it comes to an end. Let me hold The Beloved."
Clare and Sister Mary took at turn at shock. Sophia bounced her chubby arms with a grin and a gurgle as Martha placed her on the Reverend Mother's lap.
"Ah. She's a beauty," smiled Sain brushing the baby's cheeks. "Eyes that change as the gray sea, hair like ebony, cheeks of roses. Blessed Sophia."
She lifted the copper Ankh from around her neck and dangled it so the sun bounced off. Sophia laughed and reached out, grabbing the symbol and shoving the rounded end in her mouth to gum. Martha knelt to take it.
"Let her have it. It comes from her Mother, our Mother," said Sain. She placed a hand on Martha's head. "Gaia speaks to me of you. Tell me your troubles, child."
"I can't present my baby. I must go home. My, my family..." Everything came tumbling down. Martha lay her head in Mother Sain's lap and wept, homesick and worried. "The news said he did it. They said he murdered them. That they're all dead. Oh Mother, Mother. We're his only family, Dad's his dad. He loves me. He'd never. He'd never. It's all a lie, a mistake. It can't be them. I have to go home. I have to see."
"Do you speak of the father of The Beloved? The bodhisattva?"
Martha looked up at the Reverend Mother, her face soaked with tears. "The angel called him that. Did not the bodhisattva insist on your freedom? it asked. Because I don't know why Gaia chose me."
"A simple slave?" smiled Sain. She looked up at the nuns, still standing somewhat stunned. "The last shall be first and the first last. I suspect the seraphim know what they're about, though we cannot fathom them, nor they us." Her mind wandered a bit. "I think for instance, that time is different for them." She returned to the point. "Mary, this mother and child must not go home. We must protect them. This is the baby Yevgeny seeks. I fear for her and for the bodhisattva." She stared at Sophia playing with the Ankh. "In my eagerness to see the miracle, I have brought this danger upon you. Shortly after Prince Yevgeny arrived, he heard of the night of magic, when the fay seraphim sang in the groves and in the sky over your home. I'm not as wise in the ways of men as I used to be. He said he wished to find The Beloved, to pay her homage, help with her upbringing. Foolishly, I divined for him. I set my helpers to digging for information. My child, I know the one you love is Prince Dante, still alive. We found questions in the research forums. My dearly remembered Elizabeth asking about him, about his genetics and his life. With the angels, it all made sense.
"I've been too many years in the New World. I'm too ill and old. I thought the Undermage would protect his kin. They stick together like hardened glue under old Queen Eleanor, the matriarch; the Strega do. But I forgot, me who should know it all. I forgot Dante was born of Yvonne, of the hated line of Yaga," She tipped up Martha's face and looked into her eyes. "Tell me. Is it true? Is he without his words, without his magic? Did they make him a transpo?"
"Madam removed the spider net after he tried to kill himself. Madam corrected him for loving me. She was afraid, a retarded transpo getting ideas. He shot himself," said Martha. Sain sighed."but he's alright, except he limps when he's tired and he has some scars." She turned shy for a moment. "They make him look like a roguish highwayman." The moment passed. "He said he'd come back for me. We'd live in a little cottage. A country wizard and his wife. Why would he kill them? He never. Dad would've told Wordless where I was. He'd come here." Martha examined the kindness in the old Bishop's face. "Mother, why is Dante hated? He's a quiet, gentle man. Works so hard. We listen to all the services and pray with you. Why do they send wraiths to kill him? Why'd they silence him? Make him a transpo? He was a boy."
Mother Sain shook her head, "Fear? I don't know. But then I don't know why so many are condemned, why so many are slaves." She thought for a moment. "Many wait for the bodhisattva and the Beloved. We'll find your Wordless and bring him to safety. His Excellency Yevgeny is in the south. Why now? Why not north to find the Baba? Perhaps his agents." She motioned to her attendant. "Have messages sent to the Brothers and Sisters. Those faithful to our order, not those for the Undermage. The ones in the little missions in the north and south. See if they know of odd magic or tall strangers." The Bishop stroked Sophia's back. Her hand shook. The baby beamed around the well gummed Ankh. "Great wickedness, my child. More wickedness every day. May you, with Gaia's help, one day bring it to an end."