Copyright © 2008 Murphy Jacobs
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
By reading this excerpt, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are younger than 18 years old, you must exit this site at once.
Morning light warmed the workroom. Nory sat on a floor cushion, alone next to a chest filled with pearls, her spools of thread arrayed next to her on a small table. Outside, a gaggle of priestesses giggled over the latest set of offerings. The morning rituals must have ended already.
A little voice popped into her head. “Look how you’ve fallen,” it chastised, sounding very much like her childhood tutor, an old man with a pickle-shaped nose and a sour expression. “What are you? A stupid, useless female!” With a sigh, she picked up a handful of pearls and let them fall into the chest again. Once she admired their richness and the great wealth they represented. Now, they were just beads, of no more value than she.
Arlaen brought in another basket of pearls. Nory almost broke into tears. “I hate this!” she announced, pushing the chest away. “I can’t stand it anymore!”
Arlaen stopped in the doorway. “Nory, what’s wrong? Did you stick your finger again?”
Nory glared at the chest of pearls she was supposed to be restringing. The long strands of pearls decorated Nogged’s dancing girls during worship services and invariably broke during their wild gyrations. Arlaen scoured the floor after morning services, and Nory spent long hours threading the varicolored orbs onto silk.
“That’s not it, Arlaen!” Nory kicked at the chest with one bare foot. She stared at her long leg stretched out on the carpet. “It’s the whole thing—everything—I can’t stand anymore. Damn it, I’m not a seamstress or a jewelry maker. I’m a general! I led armies on the field! Men trembled in fear of me. Women beat each other over the head to climb into my bed!”
Arlaen set the basket down next to the chest. “That was all before, Nory. Forget it. You’re a priestess of Nogged now.”
The pearls glistened softly under the window, honey golden. Nory grabbed her breasts, one in each hand, as if offering them up as evidence. “These aren’t mine! I mean, sure, it was fun for a while, but…I’m a man!”