Free Marion Zimmer Bradley's Ancestors of Avalon by Diana L. Paxson Page B

Mother’s shrine.
    Tiriki stopped, realizing that her mother was speaking not of Reio-ta, who had been a kind stepfather, but of her true father. “Riveda,” she muttered, and in her mouth it was like a curse. “But you were innocent. He used you!”
    “Not entirely,” Deoris said simply, “I—I loved him.” She looked around at her daughter, fixing her with those stormy eyes whose color could shift so swiftly from grey to blue. “What do you know of Riveda—or rather, what do you think you know?”
    Tiriki hid her frown behind a flower. “He was a healer, whose treatises on medicine have become a standard for our training today—even though he was executed as a black sorcerer!” She lowered her voice. “What else do I need to know?” she asked, forcing a smile. “In every way that matters, Reio-ta has been my father.”
    “Oh, Tiriki, Tiriki.” Deoris shook her head, her eyes filled with secret thoughts. “It is true, Reio-ta was born to be a father, and a good one. But still there is a duty of blood that is different than the honor you owe the man who raised you. You need to understand what it was that Riveda was seeking—why it was that he fell.”
    They had come to the center of the spiral, where the Goddess smiled serenely through her curtain of flowers. Deoris paused, bowing her head in reverence. Behind her was a garden seat carved of stone, inlaid with a golden pattern of turtles. She sank down upon it as if her legs did not have the strength to carry both her and the weight of her memories.
    Tiriki nodded to the Power the image represented, then leaned against a nearby olive tree and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, waiting. It was not the Great Mother, but the woman who had borne her whose words interested her now.
    “Your father had the most brilliant mind of anyone I have ever known. And except perhaps for Micail’s father, Micon, he had the strongest will. We never fell in love with ordinary men, Domaris and I,” Deoris added with a rueful smile. “But what you must understand first of all is that Riveda was not a destroyer. Both black and white are mingled in the grey robes his order wore. He knew from his studies and the practice of medicine that any living thing that does not grow and change will die. Riveda tested the laws of the Temple because he desired to make it stronger, and ultimately he broke them for the same reason. He came to believe that the priesthood had become so locked into ancient dogmas that it could not adapt, no matter what disaster might occur.”
    “That is not so,” Tiriki replied indignantly, defending the traditions and training that had shaped her life.
    “I sincerely hope that it is not.” Deoris smiled tolerantly. “But it is up to you and Micail to prove him wrong. And you will never have a better chance. You will lose much that is fair in this exile, but you will escape our old sins as well.”
    “And so will you, Mother! You must agree to come away—”
    “Hush,” said Deoris, “I cannot. I will not. Riveda was tried and executed not only for his own deeds, but also for much that was done by others—the Black Robes, who were only caught and punished later. It was their work that broke the bonds Riveda had loosened. They sought power, but Riveda wanted knowledge. That was why I helped him. If Riveda deserved his fate—then my guilt is no less.”
    “Mother—” Tiriki began, for still she did not entirely understand.
    “Give my place to your sister,” Deoris said, resolutely changing the subject. “I have already arranged for an escort to bring Galara and her baggage to your chambers the first thing in the morning, so you will have a hard time turning her away.”
    “I assumed you would send her,” Tiriki said, exasperated.
    “Then that’s settled. And now,” said Deoris as she got to her feet, “I think it’s time we rejoined the men. I doubt that Chedan and Micail have had any more luck in persuading Reio-ta than you have had