Free Tortall by Tamora Pierce Page B

answers
now
.”
    “Why do the temple priests keep The Book of the Distaff from us?” a man wanted to know when my father made a sign for another question. “Why risk offending the God in the Flame and the Oracle’s spirit?”
    “Because people who are ignorant are more easily led,” I replied, making my voice as strong as I could. They could not see me waver. “The god has not punished them, so they believe the god will never punish them. And they know that fear makes people easily led. If they teach you that your women are devilish forces, mysterious and not to be trusted,you will fear them, and you will turn to your priests to protect you from these veiled creatures.”
    “Is that your father who speaks?” an old man demanded angrily. “Or is it you, taking advantage of a sick man?”
    My father raised his hands. He pointed to himself.
    “My father says that the words are his.
I
tell you that I have heard this answer many dozens of times,” I replied as the other men chuckled. “Many men have asked it.”
    I had to give my lesson in reading and the law during the noon hour the next day. My father’s voice came back for a short time that night, then failed. Once again he needed me to speak for him. The same was true of the third night.
    The god came back and showed me the veiled women. “Wake up, Teky!” she said, he said, as one. “There are your sisters, your mothers, your aunts, your cousins. What do you see?”
    “People I can barely snatch the time to teach!” I cried. “People who have rights under The Book of the Sword that is in every temple! People who don’t have to show the priests a Book they will get burned for possessing if they want justice!”
    “So this is progress,” the god told me. “But you have yet to give the simplest answer of all. It is truly there, in what you told Fadal, Teky. Only speak the answer that matters, and I will take you into my service. You will become my new Oracle, the one to speak my truth completely.”
    “I don’t want to be an Oracle,” I muttered. “I just want to teach my sisters their rights under the law.”
    A hand on my shoulder joggled me awake. “I am sorry,”our host whispered. He did not have to say more. Somehow the temple priest suspected what we did in his village. Each night I packed our bags in readiness. As our host helped my father to dress, I pulled on the rest of my clothes and loaded our donkey. Our host led us out a hidden gate, giving us directions to the next village.
    We walked until the sun was up, then stopped to drink hot tea from our flasks. My father turned his face up to the sun and smiled. “Blessed is the flame,” he said. “Blessed are we who can see by its light.” Then he began to cough, until he couldn’t walk. In the end, I took a number of our belongings on my back, and he rode our donkey, to save his strength.
    To my fear, the next village was two days’ travel down the road. Snow caught us at noon, slowing us down. It was well after dark when we reached the small hut that had been set up for the wandering priesthood. By then I had been forced to give my father poppy to ease the pain of his coughing. He was spitting up blood. Worse, when we reached the hut, I found he could not rest lying flat. He could not breathe. The healers had warned me, had said that only a great wizard could heal him when he got this ill. I arranged our packs until he could doze sitting up. “Drink,” I said, offering him a cup of the brewed medicinal tea.
    My father opened his eyes.
    “Mother?” he whispered, his beautiful voice only a ghost in his chest.
    So I put on Omi Heza’s voice for him, becoming my grandmother to give him poppy and broth, to read his favorite parts of both Books to him, until he slept. Then I satnext to him and the fire, holding his too-hot fingers to my cheek as I watched the flames.
    This time I do not think I was sleeping. The flames danced for me, then pulled apart at the base to form a