Misstres May's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

May tucked the cork-stopped jar into her coat and left the slab field behind. The little ember gecko scratched at the glass as she walked the wet road to the cathedral. She would not wait another season. She would ask to be tested for the oracle's seat today. The iron gate met her first. A bell hung from its frame, and a fresh chalk mark streaked the bars. Unclean. Word of her dead herd had run ahead of her. A robed figure stepped from the shadow and rang the bell once, soft and final. "No pen-hands past the gate. Not until the sickness clears." May's jaw tightened. She lifted the jar so the gecko's bright belly pressed the glass. "This one lived in my shed while the rest died. It is clean. I am clean. Test me here at the bars if you must." The robed figure studied the gecko, then her hands, then the weathered crosses visible down the road behind her. A pause. Then a shake of the head. The bell rang twice. The bars stayed shut. "Come back when a season passes with no new graves. Not before." May walked back past the wooden crosses with the jar warm against her ribs. The seat was still out of reach, but the gecko was hers, and a season was a thing she could count. She would spend it proving the small bright body in her hands.