Glasswrights' Test by Mindy L Klasky Page B

Mareka quieted, her sobs dying off as she listened to Berylina’s words. The queen darted her tongue across her lips, as if she were collecting the sweet nectar of Berylina’s vision. “He has,” she whispered. “He watched over my presentation to the guild.”
    â€œHe has watched over all that you have done. All the difficult choices that you ever made. He came to me just now, Your Majesty. He came to remind me, to remind you, that you can do this terrible thing. You can find the strength. You must find the strength.” The queen held out her hands to Berylina, and the princess helped the older woman to stand. “Nim will watch over you, my lady. He will not abandon you.”
    Mareka raised her eyes to the altar, to the wooden plaques that represented her lost sons. She drew one shuddering breath, and for an instant, Berylina feared that the god might have played her false. She could still taste peach at the back of her throat, though. Nim was still in the cathedral. He still attended his neediest worshiper.
    â€œCome, my lady,” Berylina said. “Let us go with the priests to the courtyard.”
    â€œThe pyre.” Mareka’s voice was dead as she spoke the two words.
    â€œAye, my lady. It must be done. But Nim will be there. He will carry your children to the Heavenly Fields. He will usher them in to life everlasting.”
    â€œNim will be there.”
    â€œHe watches over you, my lady. He loves you.”
    â€œNim. …” Queen Mareka turned to the Holy Father, as if she had only just discovered the religious man upon the dais. “I am sorry, Father. I meant no disrespect.”
    â€œThe Thousand Gods are understanding, Your Majesty.” Dartulamino delivered the benediction with an arched eyebrow, and he spared a long glance for Berylina.
    Still hesitating, the queen turned to her husband. “My lord. I am sorry.” She seemed to be speaking of more than the service, of more than her emotional collapse.
    King Halaravilli eyes filled with tears as he stepped beside his wife. He took her hands between both of his and said, “No apologies, my lady. None are necessary. Let us finish this grim business, that you may return to your chambers and get your rest.”
    Queen Mareka pulled free from her husband and closed both her hands around Berylina’s arm. The bones stood out from her flesh, as if she were a starving child. “Please! Come with us, Berylina. Come into the courtyard!”
    â€œI will not leave you, my lady.” Berylina helped the queen step down from the dais. Nim hovered nearby, filling the princess’s mouth with peach as the procession edged out of the cathedral.
    Outside the building, the summer sun shone, as if the day were made for a festival. The sky was blue. Birds sang from their perches on the marble roof of the House of the Thousand Gods. Queen Mareka clutched at Berylina’s arm, almost like a blind woman, as if she needed to draw from the princess’s strength to set one foot in front of the other.
    Berylina felt Nim’s touch rise, a headier flavor, a riper taste. A breeze whipped around the corner of the building, bringing with it the smell of smoke. The queen stumbled, clearly not prepared to take these final steps, but Berylina said, “Hail, Nim, god of wind. He is come to us across the ocean, across the plain. Gather in the stories of your children, my lady, and bring them to Nim now.”
    The queen appeared to take comfort in the words. At least, she managed to step forward, to move around the corner of the building. She could not keep from crying out, though, as she saw the pyre constructed in the center of the vast cathedral close.
    The iron framework stood in the center of the charred circle, towering high enough for dried faggots to be placed beneath it, around it. Two linen-wrapped bundles were centered on the platform, standing out against the metal like nightmares leaping forth