From: artemis@cwis.unomaha.edu (Gina Ritter)
Subject: PreCastle -- Meghin:  "A Most Unpriestly Priest"
Organization: University of Nebraska at Omaha
Date: Fri, 11 Sep 1992 12:29:38 GMT

	
	Meghin skipped happily down the path from the Church.  She had
been given leave until sunset to roam the countryside freely.  She had only 
been under the vows of an upper novice priest for a week, but it had
already started to wear on her nerves.  She wasn't supposed to drink and
she wasn't supposed to leave the Church without permission and she
wasn't supposed to interrupt the elder priests ... and so on.  "But *why*?!"
she had asked, and the elder priests had sighed and said it was the way.
She had wanted to say that it was a blessed stupid way, but the Goddess
had warned her to be silent.  "They worship as they feel is right,"  She
had murmured, and Her voice faded away in a rush of doves' wings.
	The young priest hadn't told anyone the Goddess spoke to her.  She 
was sure they wouldn't have believed her.  She wasn't sure she believed 
herself, sometimes.  She shrugged, trying to chase the uneasiness away.  
Today was her day, her fun day, and she was going to enjoy it, by the 
Goddess ...
	She found the stream and walked beside it, being careful not to get
her slippers wet.  Water rushed by, splashing over rocks and sand.  Fish
leaped, and frogs too.  The trees thickened into a forest around her.  She
smiled.  It was pretty here, all dim and cool and quiet, except for
the call of some strange bird from time to time.  The land dropped away
ahead, and she peeked over the edge.
	The stream fell in a wide silver shower to the pond below.  The
pond wasn't very big--she had seen bigger ponds back home--but it was
dark and deep-looking.  She could see the reflections of the trees all 
all around in it.  She looked for a way down and found it, a small path
that curved down to the water's edge.  In a few minutes, Meghin stood
looking into the pond, a bit wistfully.
	She never got to go swimming anymore.  There were no novices near
her age.  Most were older, and cared only for prayer and meditation and
solemn vows.  Some were younger--half having known only the Church for
all their lives, the other half having been sent here against their wills.
Either way, they made wretched playmates.
	Do I belong here?  Meghin wondered, and shook her head hard, as
if to clear her mind, and it didn't work.  The Goddess had called.  She
had been accepted into Her service.  She was sworn to do Her will.
	But did she belong at the Church?
	"No ... don't go,"  Noel had insisted, only a few weeks ago.  And
she had turned away.  And she had left him behind.
	She wondered what the Goddess thought about that, and had the
unhappy suspicion that She didn't like it one bit.
	"I had to go,"  she said irritably.  "He could have died if I had
stayed."  She got on her knees, touched her fingers to the water.  It
was soft and pleasantly cool.  This place almost made her remember another
pond, another time ... no, it didn't, not at all.
	Still, a swim would be nice ... After a glance or two around (though
she knew no other priests were on leave, and these woods were uninhabited),
she shed her clothes and slipped into the water.
	Once or twice, over the time she swam, she heard the bird again.  It
sounded very sad.  She heard it again as she lay on a shelf of smooth-washed
stone just above the water.  She thought she hadn't heard it, at first--she
was sleepy with the motion of the water and the warm sun on her skin.  She
got up on her elbows, yawning.  If she could find that poor bird, she'd
give it a bit of bread from her lunch.  Speaking of lunch ... Her stomach
complained, and she dove into the water again to cross back to shore.
	She reached land and sat there for a bit, shaking her damp hair.  
She reached regretfully for her tunic.  It was nice to have come here,
she had so needed some time for herself.  She dressed in all but her white
cloak--too heavy for this weather--and sat back on her hands.  She wished
she could take in everything, the sun on the water, the leaves in the
wind, the tiny pebbles scattered across the sand, and keep it inside 
herself.  The young priest did not doubt that it would be some time before
she was allowed to do something like this again.
	Shifting.  Behind her.  Footsteps on sand.
	Instantly she focused her awareness.  She got to her feet, casually,
slowly.  The footsteps moved closer and she struck, fast as mercury on
silver.  There was a yelp and a fluttering of crimson robes.  She kept
her hands up, expecting more trouble, but the crimson figure stumbled
back and collapsed to the grass.
	A young elfish man with the most incredible eyes she had ever
seen stared up at her, clutching his arm to him.  He smiled, looking pained,
and looked her slowly over.  "Not bad for a priest,"  he said, and winced.
She wondered what he meant by that and realized she was blushing.  "Thanks
for the broken arm."
	"It's not broken,"  Meghin sighed, dropping her hands at her sides.
	"Sure feels like it."
	"Look, I'll show you,"  she said, and knelt beside him.  She reached
for his hand and he blinked at her fearfully.  "Oh, stop.  I'm not going to
hurt you."
	"Ho really,"  he said, sounding unconvinced.  "You seemed to do
pretty good just then ..."
	"You were sneaking around.  What was I supposed to do?"
	"Uh, not kill me?" 
	"You're not dying,"  she insisted, and took his arm.  He hissed in
pain, amber eyes flashing.
	"Ow!"
	"You're going to be all right."  She closed her eyes, concentrating.
	"Who ... who are you?"
	"I'm Meghin.  I'm a priest of the Goddess."
	"Glad to meet you, Meghin ... I think.  I'm Fenwyck the Pretty-Good."
	"A magician or an emperor?"
	He laughed.  "A magician.  Sort of."
	"What are you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere, Fenwyck
the Pretty-Good?"
	"This is hardly the middle of nowhere."
	"Isn't it?"  She opened her eyes, barely paying attention to the glow
that spread beneath her hands, over his bruised arm.  "Have you taken a good
look around?"
	Fenwyck lifted his head and looked around, eyes wide.  He sighed.
"Lotsa trees."  He reached out, fingered the silver trim on the neck of her
tunic.  She flinched.  "Cute priest.  Is there a Church around here, or
are you a solo act?"
	"There is a Church, just up that way,"  she pointed, carefully
avoiding looking at him.  He was being a little too friendly for her comfort.
"Well, you can't see it from here, but it's there."  She glanced down at
his arm.  The bruises had completely disappeared.  She took her hands away.
"How do you feel?"
	He flexed his fingers.  "Whoa.  Hey.  Not bad.  Say, you're pretty
impressive, Meghin."
	"Nonsense,"  she snapped.  "Any baby novice could do the same."
	"Hey, I didn't mean to make you mad or anything.  Gosh.  I was just 
wondering what you're doing at the Church."
	"Being a priest."
	"But *why*?" he asked, sounding really confused.
	"I was called and I came."
	"Wouldn't anyone marry you or anything?"
	She glared at him.  "That is none of your damned business!"
	"Hey ... I was just curious ..."
	"Go."  She waved at him.  He got up clumsily.  
	"But--but--"
	"Go away."
	Fenwyck stamped his feet.  "Awh, come on, I haven't even done 
anything wrong!  Geez."  He blinked at her.  "I can't leave.  I got nowhere 
else to go."
	"You never did tell me why you were here, and I'm not so sure I
want to know anymore."
	"I'll tell you!  Really!  Everything!  If it'll make you stop
snarling at me."
	She wondered whether she should listen.  Goddess, he did seem
harmless, if annoying ... "All right."
	"First,"  he began, gesturing at the kerchief her lunch was tied
in, "might I interest you in some lunch, milady?"

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Gina Ritter		     ----^o^----	   artemis@cwis.unomaha.edu
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