Aralim grew vaguely impatient with the tardiness of the priests of Maga. It took them over a week to complete their preparations for Lerela’s ceremony. He passed the time meditating or studying some of the artwork he found in the Palace of Maga. His comrades slept more than he could have imagined they would, except for the guards. The latter took turns between training and visiting their injured comrade.
At last, the call came for Aralim to prepare himself. Servants brought him a thin robe he could wear into the water. After he changed, he and the Aura were led to the back of the Palace and out onto a long boardwalk that ran along the shore of the Eye. Dark blue water lapped at the underside of it—Aralim spotted a fish darting to and from, almost seeming to watch them. He had not heard anything about the Eye’s affects on aging, but he was certain these fish lived full lives.
The servants took Aralim and the Aura to the single, wide dock. Both the boardwalk and the dock were covered with red-painted wood. The raft, moored at the end of the dock, was decorated with a canvas ceiling, wooden railings, and smooth, painted floorboards. A dozen priestesses stood on the dock. Grendar was already aboard the raft. Among them, Aralim was surprised to find Nill. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see Maga in action,” she told him with a smile. The servants didn’t pause long enough for him to speak to her.
Lerela was already on the raft, lying in a stretcher and clothed with a single silk sheet. Her head was still half-shaved and the wound on the side of her head had almost completely returned to smooth skin. Only a half-healed scar marked where the damage had been done to her. Her eyes, tranquilly closed, gave her the appearance of someone deeply asleep; she did not look like someone who had nearly died.
Aralim hoped he could wake her today.
Once all the priestesses—and Nill—were aboard, the raft was moved out onto the lake by a few long poles. The Eye itself was many miles wide, but it was scattered with freshwater marsh and tall golden reeds like those Aralim had seen in King Eilar’s throne room. It looked like only a few places would be too deep for the long guiding poles.
When he saw that the women rowers were looking for a shallow spot for him to wade, Aralim looked away from Lerela and spoke to the priestesses. “I spent many years as a sailor. I can carry someone and swim easily enough, so choose a deeper position.”
They obliged excitedly. To Aralim it seemed that deeper places were more likely to flow with water—and healing water.
Every so often, the raft would be brought still, and a few priestesses would give prayers to the Eye. Generally, these consisted of proverbs or even blatant requests for Maga to forgive their past grievances. Each time they asked Maga to provide her healing for Lerela, they spoke both their names out loud. Aralim grew more impatient as their time on the Eye neared an hour. At last, they decided on the proper place for healing magic.
Senior Priestess Esrie stepped forward to the edge of the raft. She spread her arms and spoke a prayer loudly: “Goddess of the Day, see us this day. We pray we have followed your energy on the water, felt your presence, and found the healing waters. Our guest Lerela, a wounded defender, enters your embrace. Make her stronger, make her cleaner, but also allow her to return from your embrace to serve our friends once more.”
Then she waved Aralim toward the water. There were five wooden steps descending into the water at the back of raft. The third step was at the surface of the water, allowing Aralim to step gently down until he was knee deep in the water. He leaned back, put his arms on the side of the deck, and then sank in the rest of the way. His feet could feel strands of algae and moss-growth close to the bottom, but he couldn’t touch and keep his head above the gentle wind waves. He kicked his legs strongly and came up to a comfortable tread. Grendar and Nill smiled to him; though Aralim had bathed in rivers with Grendar, this was likely not a situation in which Nill had imagined Aralim.
The priestess removed Lerela’s silk wrap and one short woman carried the guard to the side of the deck. It was not easy to pass the wounded woman to Aralim, nor comfortable given her state of undress. Aralim was stronger than the priestess expected him to be, and when he knew he had a good support behind Lerela’s head, he pulled her away from the raft and then treaded alongside it.
He looked for Esrie’s instructions, but she gave him only a nod. Aralim’s treading sloshed water against Lerela’s sides and her feet splashed below his left arm. He moved his arms so that one supported Lerela’s muscular back and the other was free; then he cupped his free hand over her mouth and nose. They eased down into the water until she was fully submerged. Aralim took a deep breath to time it, and then brought her up.
When he removed his fingers from her nose, Aralim felt Lerela inhale. He blinked away waterdrops excitedly, but then realized he was looking at the same sleeping woman he had been looking at before. She was limp in his arms.
“Our dear Goddess, we know not where your Eye is focused,” proclaimed the Senior Priestess. “We thank you for this opportunity nonetheless and will continue to keep your ways.”
Aralim reluctantly swam back to the raft’s edge. The strong, short woman who had helped the first time hooked her hands beneath Lerela’s armpits and heaved her out of the water with a grunt. Another priestess took hold of Lerela’s legs at the ankles and helped return to the stretcher. By the time Aralim had climbed the steps, the silk had been draped across the comatose guardswoman once more.
Nill understood Aralim’s disappointment with a consoling nod.
“Though she didn’t give me any details,” Esrie said, stepping closer to Aralim, “Pralla Maga-sha made it sound as though there could have been more dire consequences. We will consult with the King, but likely authorize a second attempt. Many have waited an entire Moon to find Maga’s healing waters.”
Aralim nodded thankfully, while biting his tongue, because he could not wait an entire Moon. Rattar had implored him to return to Rema with haste and attend to the Eternal Emperor’s fragile state-of-mind. If the magicians in Rema could heal Lerela, it would be a second option to the waters of the Eye. If not, then Lerela had faced her fate in the battlefield, a fate for which she had prepared and ultimately volunteered.
Aralim would wait a few more weeks, but then he would be forced to make another perilous choice.
The golden reeds of the Eye parted for the raft, as Aralim and his friends returned to the Palace. The rising sun began to turn the waters an even brighter blue, and Aralim watched the fish swimming alongside him as his robe dried.