Mistress of Dragons Read Online Free PDF Page A

stations, kneeling, forming a circle
around a large Eye that had been carved into the granite floor. The Eye was the
Second Miracle, for it was said to have appeared the day the Mistress knelt
before the altar and proclaimed that here she would fight the dragons. The
sisters arranged their rugs so that each faced inward, toward the Eye. Their
heads were bowed in prayer, their voices murmuring. All were here. All except
the Mistress. Melisande wondered uneasily if the strain had proved too much for
the elderly woman, if perhaps she had fallen ill. She was about to go search,
when several of the sisters caught sight of her and bowed low to their High
Priestess.
    Melisande
could not leave now. Her sudden departure would cause consternation among the
sisters, disrupt their concentration. The Mistress was a proud woman. She would
not thank Melisande for coming to fetch her, as if she had forgotten or
neglected her duty. If the Mistress was detained, she must have her reasons.
    Melisande
bowed to the sisters. Gliding across the floor, she took her place at the head
of the circle, in front of the marble altar. The sisters wore their sacred
garments—gowns of pure white lamb’s wool, embroidered with symbols of the Hands
and the Eyes along the hem of the gown and sleeves. Melisande’s gown was
similar, except that her gown was black and trimmed in golden thread, to mark
her standing as High Priestess.
    She
inspected each of the sisters, to make certain that each had come properly
prepared. Finding all in order, Melisande sank down thankfully onto her rug.
The warmth of the fire from the brazier felt good. She realized only then that
she was chilled to the bone and shivering. She had not noticed before now.
    She
began to speak the ritual words of prayer, “O, Mistress of the Dragon, come to
us in our time of need ...”
    The
words held new meaning for her now and she prayed them with a fervor she had
never before felt. And, as if in answer, the Mistress of Dragons entered the
chamber.
    She
wore the trappings of her high office: a full-length gown of wool that had been
decorated with thousands of tiny beads, designed to resemble the scales of a
dragon. Twenty women had worked for five years to construct the gown. Every
color scale in the stone jars was represented in the colors of the beadwork and
the gown shimmered and gleamed in the firelight. The Mistress wore a golden
crown formed of clasped hands, holding the Watchful Eye, a beautiful sapphire.
    The
sisters bowed low, their heads touching the stone floor. Melisande bowed, then,
rising to her feet, she took the Mistress by the hand and led her ceremoniously
to the altar. The Mistress took her place beside the flaming brazier. Melisande
bowed again and left to return to the head of the circle.
    One
of the sisters spoke. Her voice was low, but so silent was the chamber that it
could be clearly heard.
    “Melisande
has blood on her sacred garment, Mistress.”
    Some
of the sisters sucked in their breath, so that a soft sibilant gasp went
through the chamber. Melisande had no need to search for the speaker, for she
knew quite well who had spoken. Lucretta was five years Melisande’s senior and
she had been certain she would be chosen High Priestess. The Mistress had
chosen Melisande, however, and Lucretta had been furious. She had taken out her
wrath on Melisande, who suffered her slights and insults in silence, knowing,
as Lucretta should have known, that petty jealousies must not ever be allowed
to break the divine unity of the Sisterhood.
    Melisande
looked down at the hem and saw the gold thread stained with red, probably from
the cuts on her feet. Lucretta must have looked very hard to have seen that.
Her body suffused with an unpleasant warmth, Melisande glanced back to where
the Mistress stood behind the altar.
    “Mistress,
I—” Melisande began.
    The
Mistress made a swift negating motion with her hand, and Melisande fell silent.
    “The
blood upon the sacred garment of