gathering_blue_novel-2

than those who have none."
She remembered that now and tried to find the pride that her mother had
taught her to feel. She straightened her thin shoulders and smoothed the folds of
her coarsely woven shift. She had washed carefully in the clear stream water and
had cleaned her nails with a sharp twig. She had combed her hair with the carved
wooden comb that had been her mother's and which she had added to her own
small storage sack after her mother's death. Then she had braided her hair, using
her hands to interweave the thick dark strands deftly, tying the end of the heavy
plait with a leather strip.
Steadying her apprehensions with a deep breath, Kira knocked on the heavy
door to the room where the Council of Guardians' meeting was already in
progress. It opened a crack, spilling a wedge of light into the dim hall. A man
looked out and eyed her suspiciously. He widened the opening and gestured her
inside.
"The accused orphan girl Kira is here!" the door guard announced, and the
muttering subsided. In silence they all turned to watch her enter.
The chamber was huge. Kira had been there before, with her mother, on
ceremonial occasions like the annual Gathering. Then, they had sat with the
crowds on rows of benches, facing the stage that was furnished only with an altar
table holding the Worship-object, the mysterious wooden construction of two
sticks connected to form a cross. It was said to have had great power in the past,
and the people always bowed briefly and humbly toward it in respect.
But now she was alone. There were no crowds, no ordinary citizens, only the
Council of Guardians: twelve men who sat facing her across a long table at the
foot of the stage. Rows of oil lamps made the room bright, and each of the men
had his personal torch behind him, illuminating stacked and scattered papers that
lay on the table. They watched her as she made her way hesitantly up the aisle.
Quickly, remembering the procedure that she had seen at every ceremony,
Kira arranged her hands in a reverent position, cupped together, fingertips below
her chin, as she arrived at the table and looked respectfully toward the Worshipobject
on the stage. The guardians nodded approvingly. Apparently it had been
the right gesture. She relaxed a bit, waiting, wondering what would happen next.
The door guard responded to a second knock and announced a second entry.
"The accuser, Vandara!" he called.
So: it was to be the two of them. Kira watched as Vandara strode rapidly