most women half her age, and her reactions were as quick as ever. She fought in a light robe to protect her pale skin from the sun, her blond hair tied back loosely behind her neck. Sorak, having already worked up a sweat during the training session, fought bare-chested, his darker skin far less vulnerable to the sun’s rays. His black hair hung loose past his shoulders and his lean muscles stood out sharply, defined by the glistening sweat. Ryana felt excited as she watched him.
For years, she had looked upon him as a brother, though they were not related by blood and were not even of the same race. Recently, however, Ryana had become aware of a dramatic change in her feelings toward Sorak. These feelings had come upon her gradually, so there had never been a moment when she found herself shocked to suddenly discover that she wanted him. There had been time for her to analyze these feelings and to become accustomed to them, though it was something she and Sorak had never actually discussed. Still, she knew he must be aware of how she felt. They were too close for him not to know. Yet, he had never said or done anything to indicate to her that he felt the same way.
The others all knew, Ryana was certain of that. Everybody knew. It was something she simply could not hide, nor did she wish to hide it. She told herself that there was nothing wrong in what she felt. With only rare exceptions, villichi priestesses were celibate, but that was not as a result of any rule, it was simply their choice. She felt sure her love for Sorak did not violate any taboos at the convent. Nevertheless, there were those among her sisters who sought to discourage it.
“You are treading on dangerous ground, Ryana,” Saleen had told her while they were working at their looms. Saleen was older, almost twenty-two, and saw Ryana watch as Sorak walked past their window. He was on his way to see the high mistress and had Tigra trotting along at his heels. “What do you mean?” Ryana replied. “Sorak,” said Saleen. She smiled. “I have seen the way you look at him. Everyone has seen.”
“What of it?” asked Ryana, in a challenging tone. “Are you saying it is wrong?”
“Perhaps not,” Saleen had replied gently, “that is not for me to say, but I think it is unwise.”
“Why? Because he is an elfling and a tribe of one?” Ryana had said. “That makes no difference to me.”
“Yes, but it may make a difference to him,” replied Saleen. “You are closer to Sorak than any of the rest of us, but your very closeness may be preventing you from seeing what the rest of us have seen only too dearly.”
“And what would that be?” she asked defensively.
“You look upon Sorak as a woman looks upon a man she loves,” Saleen said. “Sorak looks upon you as a brother looks upon a sister.”
“But he is not my brother,” Ryana protested.
“That makes little difference if he merely looks upon you as a sister,” said Saleen. “Besides, you know that loving Sorak could never be the same as loving any other male. I do not pretend to be wise in the ways of the world, Ryana, but from all that I have heard, it is often difficult enough for just two people to find love together. With Sorak, there are more than two people involved.”
“I am well aware of that,” Ryana said sharply. “I am not a fool.”
“No,” Saleen said. “No one is saying that. Nor am I suggesting that you do not know what is involved. His other aspects speak through him only to you and the high mistress. The rest of us have never been so favored. But that is still no indication that all of Sorak’s inner aspects can feel love for you. It is not enough for you to love all of Sorak. All of Sorak must also love you. And even if they could, where would it lead? Where could it lead? Villichi do not marry. We do not take mates.”
“I am aware of no rule that forbids it,” said Ryana.
“Have you forgotten your vows? ‘…to devote my heart and soul completely to the sisterhood, to devote my energies to the teaching of the disciplines we all hold true, to seek out others like myself and grant them aid and shelter, to cleave to one another above all personal