A cool breeze ruffled the dark and stained curtains of Aemelins bed chamber. The floral patterns had long faded from them, but it was still obvious that they had once been beautiful and opulent. The marble floor contrasted sharply as the sheen from them reflected the flickering light of the candle in the corner. Though worn, it was clear the marble was of the highest quality. Even the bed and desk, though worn with age, were grand and quietly rich in their design. At the desk Aemelins bent over her tomes as she reviewed the previous days work. She slept little of late and woke early. Often she found herself awake hours before even the servants. She wore her ninety years (all that she would acknowledge) well. She walked without the stoop common of old age and her voice was as strong as always. It was all a facade though. Only her will and strength of mind kept her from falling over and embracing the sweetness that was eternal rest. Her aches grew daily and she longed for the day she could join her beloved Georm, but it was not yet to be.
Knuckling her back, she rose slowly and headed to the door. She was sure the kitchens would have something for her. She could see the sun starting to peek over the Angreth Mountains in the east, surely the kitchen staff were up. As she made her way through the halls, the bell from the beggars gate rang loudly, surprising her. She turned toward it and met young Argus Clenfell coming from the gate carrying a blanket covered basket. Argus had been one of the stronger priests in his class. He was first to be named Shendar Corven as well as the biggest. Although he towered over nearly everyone in the temple, he was also known to be the kindest amongst the men. His broad shoulders and square jaws made him the talk in the women's quarters, especially since it was known that he was shy around women.
"Well met, my son," she greeted him with a smile, "what have you? A gift from the village?"
"Greetings, Mistress," he replied formally, "a gift, of a sort, if it please you, a child was left." He pulled back the blanket to reveal a golden haired infant. "She can't be more than a week old, Mistress. No note nor name acoompany her. I was about to take her to the nursery to be tended."
Aemelins eyes opened wide. She stood and stared at nothing as a strange light entered her eyes. Her voice suddenly became strong and deep, "she shall be called Arranna and she shall be the hope for many."
Aemelins collapsed in a heap at Argus's feet. Argus knelt beside her setting the basket beside him, "Mistress!" His voice was threaded with worry.
"Care for her, Argus," Aemelins soft voice carried to him, "raise her as your own. She is the one. I go to my Georm now. Be at peace."
It was a full minute before Argus realized the hand he held had no life in it. He cried out for help and the baby woke with a cry. Soon the hall became crowded with other priests and servants to find Argus gently rocking a baby with a tear streaked face beside the body of the Mistress of the Temple of Arrion.
"What has happened here, Shendar Clenfel?" demanded Sametha Runegold, Second Mistress. As soft and caring as Aemelins had been, Sametha was grating and harsh. She now glowered over Argus.
"The Mistress of the Temple is dead, Mistress," came his soft reply, "She died blessing this child and giving her to my care. I accept what she gave me and will fulfill my duty."
Sametha knelt beside Argus and laid a hand softly on his shoulder. "Be at peace, my son," she said gently, "What name is the child blessed with?"
"Arranna, Mistress," He stated flatly, "Mistress Aemleins named her Arranna, I shall call her Sonya."
Sametha stood, "Arranna Sonya Clenfel, it is," she said softly. Turning to the servants she selected six men and in a gentle voice said, "Take the Mistress's body to her chambers and lay her on her bed."
As the body was lifted, Sametha stood and folded her hands in front of her. Somberly, she addressed the gathered crowd, "The Mistress is dead. Let the great bell ring as is required and gather the enclave. We are in mourning as the Mistress is dead." She then nodded to a young priestess nearby. The girl dashed off to ring the great bell and inform the rest of the Temple.
"Claras tend to Argus and the child. He will need help in raising her."
"Yes, Mistress," came the reply from a young priestess.
Some might have called her pretty, her nearly crimson hair falling in curls framing an oval face. It was rumored that Claras was nobly born, but of all the initiates her age, she was also one of the most caring. Raised to priestess mere weeks ago, she was also one of the most junior. She gently took the infant from Argus and helped him to his feet.
"Come, we will go to the nursery so we can take care of the child."
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