Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 - Avatar by Louise Cooper - Indigo 06 Page A

of endurance, proof to herself, as much as to anyone else, that she could triumph where others would fail. Proof of her faith in her own will and her own strength. Was that, then, the crux of Uluye’s religion, and was the Ancestral Lady nothing more to her than a means to an end, as Indigo was? Did Uluye even believe in the goddess she professed to worship?
    Grimya, catching the thought, looked up from where she sat by Indigo’s feet. She may not believe , the wolf communicated silently, but the people do, and that is all she needs .
    Uluye stood now before the rock and turned to face the lake once more. On the cliff side, more torches were being lit, turning the ziggurat into a strange and shimmering wall of dancing flames that illuminated the arena below as brightly as day. Indigo smelled incense, saw clouds of smoke rising from braziers set around the dusty square and tended by the younger priestesses. Uluye gazed on the scene with taut satisfaction, then raised her arms again, her fingers clawing toward the sky.
    “Come!” she cried in a fierce, stentorian voice. “Come to us, you who are bereaved. Come to us, you who have cause to fear the departed. Come to us, you who would dispute with the dead. I, Uluye, will partake of your offerings! I, Uluye, will intercede for you! I, Uluye, in the Ancestral Lady’s name, will put wrong to right and see justice done. Come to us, and let the rites of Ancestors Night begin!”
    From somewhere away to the left of the arena, where the trees crowded thickly, a woman’s voice screamed out. “Oh, my husband! Oh, my husband!”
    Uluye’s head turned sharply; she snapped her fingers and two priestesses hastened toward the source of the cry. Moments later they returned with the woman—hardly more than a girl, Indigo saw now—and brought her before Uluye, where she collapsed sobbing in the dust at the High Priestess’s feet.
    Uluye stared down dispassionately at her. “Your husband serves the Ancestral Lady now. Would you try to deny him that privilege?”
    The girl struggled to bring her emotions under control. “I would see him, Uluye. Just once. Just once more, please ....”
    “What gift do you bring to honor him?”
    The girl fumbled with a small sack slung under one arm. “I bring the soul bread ...” her voice quavered, almost broke “... baked with my own hands, that he may eat. I bring the sap of the paya tree, sweetened with honey, that he may drink....”
    She reached out, holding a leaf-wrapped package and a small water skin. Uluye gazed thoughtfully at the offerings for a moment, then took them. She unwrapped the soul bread—a flat, unleavened loaf—and ate a corner of it. Then she drank a mouthful of liquid from the skin. The girl covered her face with her hands, trembling with relief, and Indigo heard her whisper over and over again, “Thank you, Uluye! Thank you, Uluye!”
    Her two escorts led her away to stand at one side of the arena. As a second supplicant shuffled forward into the torchlight, a figure, fire and shadow in the shifting glare, moved close to the rock where Indigo sat, and Indigo looked down to see Yima at her side.
    She leaned down and whispered to the girl, “What’s happening, Yima? Who is that woman, do you know?”
    “Yes, I know her,” Yima replied softly. “Her husband died of a fever three full moons ago. She has been grieving for him ever since, but has only now found the courage to ask to meet him again. It’s very sad. He was only twenty-two years old.”
    There was compassion in her tone. Indigo frowned. “How can she meet him again?” she whispered back. “Surely Uluye won’t—” She checked herself, amended hastily: “The girl doesn’t mean to die ?”
    Yima turned wide, surprised eyes up to the litter. “Of course not,” she said. “He will come to her. From the lake.”
    Shalune, who stood a few paces away beside another young girl whom Indigo didn’t recognize, heard the whispering and gave Yima a