[Amanaduial the archer]

The message came to Zamara almost an hour after the sun had gone down: almost an hour after curfew. Time spent pacing furiously in her stark little room, lying on her bed in contemplation, staring anxiously out of the little window into the city that she was exiled from. Anything to stop her giving way to desperation. It was as she was staring out into the city, long after the last tendrils of the sunset, the ragged ribbons of Rae's headdress, had faded from the sky above the desert, that there came a discreet knock upon her door. Zamara blood froze, an icy flood of water rushing over her; the knock was not the one that she had decided upon with Nadda, and neither Siamak or Gjeelea used that door. Unsure of what to do, ready at any second to bolt for the hidden door or take her chances out of the window, Zamara remained motionless and silent - and as the door swung open, she opted for the secret door and flung herself through it, rolling gracelessly once inside as she pulled the door behind her. Stifling a cry as she fell awkwardly on her arm, she ignored the pain and crouched there, still, silent and alert, a rabbit in an unfamiliar warren as the fox sniffed outside it's door.

For a moment, there was no sound, then the sound of a man swearing sounded - most unregally, she thought with a grin of relief as she recognised Siamak's voice. As she heard him begin to stumble back out of the door, she darted back out of the tunnel entrance, holding a finger to her lips and flapping the other hand at him desperately so that he wouldn't gasp or call out. The prince started at the sudden movement of the ghostly figure coming apparently out of the wall, hand flying to his sword hilt, before he recognised Zamara and dropped his hand, sagging slightly. Behind him, Gjeelea sighed with relief, her hand at her breast, then shut the door quietly. As Zamara came towards the pair, Siamak started forward angrily. "Zamara, you gave us such a shock, how could you-" the outburst was brief but furious before the young prince caught up with him and he looked away, dropping his eyes and stopping in his tracks before he reached the Priestess.

But rather than offending her, Siamak's outburst secretly pleased Zamara and also warned her inwardly: despite all appearances, against the fact that this young man had taken the weight of the world and all the responsibility of his country's fate upon his young shoulders, he remained a youth, a mere child compared to those he was up against. And indeed, was his enemy not his father? The thought touched Zamara. Was there ever a tale sadder than the story of a boy who had no choice but to go to war against his father...

She held up a hand against his words, instead hastening him onto his news, the stifling solidarity of the past few hours having made her restless and anxious. "What news, Prince Siamak, what news?"

Siamak nodded and, straightening up, commenced what could have been a formal military report. "Reafin went to see the Priest Tarkan an hour before curfew; he was not seen by anyone, and the Priest recieved him-"

"Yes, yes, and?" Zamara knew she must have sounded rude, but the urgency of her predicament swept this over.

"He will see you, Zamara, of course!" Gjeelea spoke this time, blurting the words out as she came forward and took the Priestess's hands. Her eyes glittered in the dimming light of the room with a brightness that Zamara had not previously seen, an excitement that had earlier seemed devoid in a gaze dull with hopelessness. The older woman gave a great sigh of relief and squeezed the princess's fingers. "Thanks Rhais..." she almost laughed. "So we are to go to his house? It should be risky; the orc patrols will be out if we go at night and-"

"The meeting will not be at the Priest's house, Zamara," Siamak interjected. "Tarkan had some...concerns about that particular location," he continued carefully. Zamara raised one eyebrow, but didn't comment. Now was no time for sniping comments, especially not when she he so precious few allies already. Siamak continued. "He suggested a meeting in the ruins of the Old Temple of Rae."

"In the... What, in the ruins?" Zamara's reply was practically a squawk as she gawped at Siamak. The prince shrugged almost apologetically. Zamara's lips moved as she began to mouth a few sentence-starters, then, almost self-mockingly, she repeated once more the tried and tested diplomatic words that Siamak had used not that long earlier. "Do you think that wise, Siamak?"

The prince picked up on the irony of the phrase, smiling thinly, then nodded. Gjeelea backed him up before Zamara could speak, even if she had known what to say. "It makes sense, Zamara. Just think: who would think to look for there for you of all people?"

Not my goddess, that is for sure. Zamara pursed her lips at the grim thought, but it was true enough. Her uncertainty about the Temple of Rae had always been there, since she was a little girl and had heard stories about it; and as she grew up, the rumours and unease that passed in the circles of Rhais had increased in her hearing. It filled her with an uncertainty and even a slight dread that went beyong the rivalry and seperation of the two denominations of priesthood. Sacrifice was not a regular practise in the Temple of Rhais, but for Rae's followers... certainly, tales of human 'sacrifices' were not easily ignored by Zamara, not when they went against every moral, every thought, every teaching that Zamara had ever had.

O Goddess, how could you find me in such a place?

Tarkan was older than the young High Priestess by some years: he would know the rumours. And if they were true, maybe he had even initiated that sort of practise...

Zamara shuddered, flinching physically. No. She could not think that. She could not let it get in the way of what was practical at the moment. She could not let it get in the way of the hopes of Pashtia.

"Priestess, is that not alright? Would you prefer us to change the meeting place?" Gjeelea's voice cut into Zamara's thoughts and she looked up sharply at the young woman's anxious face. Yes, she was indeed a very pretty little thing, but strong featured and noble also, her dark hair framing her sallow, strong boned face with a beautiful determination. It was no wonder that Korak had wanted her; it was no wonder that she made such a picture of a Queen...

"No." Zamara's reply was short. She took a deep breath and continued more eloquently. "No, that is fine, of course it is fine. After all, we cannot have any more delays..." Even as she spoke, Zamara was turning to her bed, where the black cloak lay, folded and refolded by Zamara in her anxiousness and wish not to stay still. As she picked it up, she looked back at the two royal children, who stood unmoving, watching her incredulously. "What is the matter? Come now, we need to move soon, there is not a moment to waste!" she cried almost impatiently.

"...Tonight, Priestess?" Siamak asked carefully.

"We can bide our time all we like, your majesty, but if the desert fox waits too long in the dunes, he will eventually miss his prey." And some kind of eagle will swoop down and pick him up for dinner into the bargain as well... she added mentally, but did not voice the grim thought. Spinning the voluminous black cloak out behind her in an arc of thick liquid jet, she enveloped herself into its folds of velvety midnight. Eyeing it with some distaste for the way it had been imposed upon her by the Emissary, Zamara nonetheless could not miss the irony of the garment's use to her now: the perfect cover of darkness, the very item that had once helped her, and maybe would help her again, escape the orc patrols of its donator. You are too kind, Master Snake, she smiled in satisfaction.

"The Priest does not..." Siamak stopped, smiled slightly and rephrased his statement. "Shall I send someone out to warn the Priest of your coming?"

Zamara smiled and winked at him. "Thank you, Siamak," she replied, grinning. The prince rolled his eyes, an odd act of cameradie, and departed through the secret tunnel, leaving Gjeelea and Zamara. The Priestess took the princess's hands in her own and squeezed them, smiling nervously at the younger woman. "This is it, Princess Gjeelea...are you sure you are to come with us?"

The princess nodded. "I wouldn't dream of missing it, High Priestess. Stay here for a minute or two, then follow me to my rooms - we will go say ten minutes after my brother, so as not to alert suspicion. It will be yourself, my brother, Reafin, Nadda and I...is that enough?"

"I think it would be unwise to risk any more."

"You're right, of course, you're right. Just the five of us then." Gjeelea's nervous yet excited smile mirrored Zamara's as she squeezed the Priestess's hands anxiously. With that last gesture, she was gone towards the tunnel. But as she left, Zamara called her back with a word. "Gjeelea?"

The princess turned around and Zamara, unsure of how to express what she wanted to say, simply contented herself with that one simple, ageless phrase. "Thank you."

Gjeelea nodded, smiling, then ducked into the tunnel and was gone. For the second time that day, Zamara was left alone to think but this time - this time at least, her thoughts had some direction. Some hope.

There is always hope. As long as there is the Goddess, there is hope.