House of Water

by the Ninth Sybil of Vengard

The skies over Vengard are stormy and changeable, more often gray than blue, but some mornings in May Tide the sun rises into heavens blue and clear, and a mild, warm breeze blows in from Lake Tarly. It was on just such a morning, under trees fragrant with blossoms, that I was welcoming several new novices to their vocation in the House of Water.

They were full of questions, as the young always are. "Holy Sibyl," asked a young oyster-catcher from Gray Keep, "is love truly the answer to every question?"

"It is—if the question addresses the heart," said I. "Rarely if it addresses the mind."

"Holy Sibyl?" asked the shy engraver from Moor. "Is it true we must dance for the worshipers while … unclad?"

I smiled. "That is as your spirit shall will—and as the weather shall allow!"

"I have one, Holy Sibyl," said the clever child of a Faring banker. "If the Land already belongs to the Adversary, then what is the Water Lady's purpose?"

In reply, I scooped a double handful of Gillyweeds from the shore and rained them over his astonished brow.

"I am troubled, Holy Sibyl," said the hostler from Holden, "for I know not who is my father."

"That is naught to the Water Lady," I gently replied, "for she says, 'No matter the seed, if the shoot is nurtured with love, will not the flower be beautiful?'"

"What if a congregant seeks me as ardor-partner," said the knight's scion of Onford, "but I find her without favor?"

"Love whomever you may," I sang, "but love coerced is not love at all."

"Holy Sibyl, is it true what they s-say," stammered the son, "that you lost your s-sight from the Swamp Plague?"

"It is," I smiled, "but what of that? For can I not dance?"

"Holy Sibyl!" "Holy Sibyl!"

"Peace, young novices!" I cried. "For it is Friday, the bell tolls sundown, and the congregants await us in the House. Come, now! Come! Bring wine and water, bring tambours, bring light feet and warm hearts! Our Lady calls us to worship."