Goddess of the Ice Realm by David Drake

over his head and laid it on the turf altar, then stepped back. It began to bleat. Estanel feltfor a point at the back of its jaw, and pinched. The animal fell immediately silent, though its eyes spun in abject terror.
    Several hundred people stood near Garric on the hillside; some had come from more than a day’s hike away. Not only was the sacrifice important for the health of crops and cattle, there would be a fair in the afternoon with mummers and peddlers from other islands. Some of those visitors watched at a little distance from the locals, remarkable for bright, outlandish clothing.
    Because this was a peaceful sacrifice, Garric carried neither his shield of seawolf hide nor his heavy, bronze-bladed spear; the knife thrust through his sash was simply a piece of male attire. His tunic had an embroidered border and his short wool cape had originally been red; it had faded to a rusty color. Because of the ceremony he wore a headdress made from tail feathers of the black sea eagle instead of his usual broad-brimmed leather hat.
    â€œMay the Lady accept the sacrifice of our community!” Anda said. All the priests wore a fillet and sash; his were yellow, the color of the Lady, made of wool dyed with the pollen washed from beehives in the Fall. Turning, he took an obsidian-bladed knife from the servant who was assisting him. The stone had a greenish cast and was almost transparent.
    â€œMay the Shepherd bless the flocks of our community!” said Estanel, taking the kid by the muzzle. Her fillet and sash were black linen. She wore gold combs and rings set with garnets and sardonyx. The jewelry had nothing to do with the sacrifice save that it gave her an excuse to display her wealth.
    â€œMay the Sister make the way of our community easy in the coming year!” said Short Horan, stumbling a little over the formula. He’d been chosen for the priesthood this Spring when Voder died. Usually priests were the wealthiest members of the community, but after a day of arguing by supporters of two rival landowners the assembly had finally picked Horan. Everybody liked him personally, and he was known to be devout. That was more the exception than the rule among priests, but Garric was among those who thought it was a good thing.
    Horan gripped the kid’s hind legs and stretched them back. His white fillet was coming loose and he’d smudged his sash by unconsciously wiping his sweaty hands on it.
    â€œIn the name of the community!” Anda said and expertly cut the kid’s throat. Its blood fountained for a moment, soaking into the sods of the altar as part of the ritual. When the animal had bled out, two of Anda’s servants carried the carcass aside to be cleaned. A pot was already heating to seethe it for the feast.
    â€œWe give this gift to the Gods that they may look kindly on us!” Garric said. “Bless us, Lady! Bless us, Shepherd! Bless us, Sister!”
    â€œMay the Gods bless us all for our gift!” the assembly cried, the voices echoing from the other side of the valley.
    As Anda lit the fire with a coal from the hollow gourd a servant carried, Garric felt the scene tremble away like reflections in the water when the wind rises. Sunlight slanted through shutters onto the bed. He’d been napping . . .
    Garric sat up abruptly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he muttered, angry with himself. There was so much to do, especially on the first day on another island.
    â€œYou needed your sleep,” said Liane, raising her arms to let the silk undertunic shimmer down over her like pale blue water.
    â€œThere’s never time to do everything a king needs to do
and
sleep,”
said the image of Carus. He appeared to be looking out over a landscape that wasn’t part of the vision in Garric’s mind.
“But you have to sleep.”
    Garric pulled on his own inner tunic. He wore silk robes in court, but his undergarments were always wool because he