Free The Light of the Oracle by Victoria Hanley

sure, that she would have understood had she not been interrupted.
    “Speak,” the Master Priest urged again.
    She opened her mouth to tell him about the woman who had sat so solemnly writing. But just then she saw a glimmering plume of thistledown bobbing beside the door. A breeze began to blow within her mind. The breeze whispered:
Don't tell him. She'll never read my words
.
    Bryn clutched her belly, afraid she would be sick.
    Don't tell him
, the breeze repeated.
He'll find me and order me killed
.
    Pain threaded through Bryn's joints, drawn tight by the knot in her stomach. She doubted she could walk. “I don't remember anything more,” she mumbled.
    When the pain mounted into her head, turning everything black, she felt grateful that she could no longer see the Master Priest's eyes. She fell forward onto the carpet.
    Ilona, First Priestess of the Oracle, summoned senior handmaids to bear Bryn to the infirmary after the girl fainted. Then she sat across from the Master Priest and waited for him to speak.
    Renchald was perfectly calm. “In all the annals of ancient lore, there is no mention of an unsanctioned member of the Temple being found in the Oracle's most sacred chamber,” he said.
    “It is indeed puzzling. The Oracle's hand must be guiding this stonecutter's daughter,” Ilona said.
    “Can we be certain it was the Oracle who led her?” he asked.
    “Nothing is certain: the Oracle never reveals all of her mysteries,” Ilona answered.
    “Perhaps this vision of Lord Morlen's death is Bryn's prophetic test. Morlen is a skilled Shadow Sorcerer. What girl could approach him with a knife, let alone kill him with it? However, time will tell.”
    Time
. Yes, time, as always, would tell. Time revealed the truth, whether it was wanted or not.
    “Will you question the guards posted last evening to discover how Bryn went unnoticed?” Ilona asked.
    The Master Priest shook his head slowly. “That would never do. Word of this must not become part of Temple gossip. Have you spoken with anyone?”
    “No, sir. None but you.”
    “Let it remain so.”
    She nodded acquiescence. “I must confess to wondering which bird will choose Bryn.”
    “Perhaps no bird will choose her. Perhaps she'll be chosen by the wind.” His eyes hardened almost imperceptibly. “Are you astonished that I should mention it? The chance is remote, yes, but the possibility exists nevertheless. After all, it was the wind who led her to me. She was chasing after some thistledown when my horse nearly trampled her.”
    The First Priestess did not know how to answer him. She prayed that if Bryn turned out to be wind-chosen, the Oracle would help her guide such a gift— a gift she'd never encountered before and could not claim to understand.
    The infirmary smelled of lavender. Starched sheets crinkled around Bryn when she awoke, and the curtains on the windows looked like crisp shrouds. Emma, the Temple's apothecary, poked and prodded her, looked at her tongue, and then insisted she must spend the day in bed. “ You'll stay here the night as well.”
    “May I send word to my duenna?” Bryn asked, anxious about Dawn.
    “No, dear. The Sendrata of Handmaids knows of your illness, and that is as much as anyone needs to hear. The Master Priest has left word that you are to speak with no one at all about what occurred during the night—no one but him.” Emma's brown eyes glinted with curiosity.
    Bryn plucked at the sheet. “What will he do to me?”
    “Nothing, child, if you follow his orders. As you're new to the Temple, I remind you that orders from the Master Priest must always be obeyed.” She shrugged her plump shoulders. “Whatever you did, he has excused you.”
    Bryn nodded, and sank down on the pillow, but a leaden uneasiness lay in her stomach. She had the impression that she'd broken many rules, rules so important that perhaps they'd never been broken before. Would the Master Priest truly forgive her?
    Next morning, she was allowed to