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All come to see her diveShe closed her eyes for a moment, before she turned to look at BrandinIt would have been easier not to, infinitely easier, but she knew that there were dangers in not meeting his gazeAnd, in the end, here at the end, this was the man she loved Last night, lying awake, watching the slow transit of the moons across her window, she had tried to think of what she could say to him when she reached the end of the pierWords beyond those of the ritual, to carry layers of meaning down through the years But there, too, lay danger, a risk of undoing everything this moment was to becomeAnd words, the ones she would want to say, were just another reaching out towards making something whole, weren't they? Towards bridging the chasmsAnd in the end that was the point, wasn't it? There was no bridge across for her "My lord," she said formally, carefully, "I know I am surely unworthy, and I fear to presume, but if it is pleasing to you and to those assembled here I will try to bring you the sea-ring back from the sea Brandin's eyes were the color of skies before dior china rainHis gaze never wavered from her faceHe said, "There is no presumption, love, and infinite worthinessYou ennoble this ceremony with your presence here Which confused her, for these were not the words they had preparedBut then he looked away from her, slowly, as if turning away from light "People of the Western Palm!" he cried, and his voice was clear and strong, a King's, a leader of men, carrying resonantly across the square and out among the tall ships and the fishing boats"We are asked by the Lady Dianora if we find her worthy to dive for usIf we will place our hopes of fortune in her, to seek the Triad's blessing in the war Barbadior brings down upon usWhat is your reply? She waits to hear!" And amid the thunderous roar of assent that followed, a roar as loud and sure as they had known it would be after so much pent-up anticipation, Dianora felt the brutal irony of it, the bitter jest, seize hold of her Our hopes of fortuneIn her? The Triad's blessingThrough her? In that moment, for the first time, here at the very margin of the sea, she felt fear come in to lay sacs hermes a finger on her heartFor this truly was a ritual of the gods, a ceremony of great age and numinous power and she was using it for her own hidden purposes, for something shaped in her mortal heartCould such a thing be allowed, however pure the cause? She looked back then at the palace and the mountains that had defined her life for so longThe snows were gone from the peak of SangariosIt was on that summit that Eanna was said to have made the starsDianora looked away and down, and she saw Danoleon gazing at her from his great heightShe looked into the calm, mild blue of his eyes and felt herself reach out and back through time to take strength and sureness from his quietude Her fear fell away like a discarded garmentIt was for Danoleon, and for those like him who had died, for the books and the statues and the songs and the names that were lost that she was hereSurely the Triad would understand that when she was brought to her final accounting for this heresy? Surely Adaon would remember Micaela by the sea? Surely Eanna of the Names would be merciful? Slowly then, Dianora omega planet ocean watches nodded her head as the roar of sound finally receded; seeing that, the High Priestess of the god came forward in her crimson gown and helped her free of the dark-green robe Then she was standing by the water, clad only in the thin green undertunic that barely reached her knees, and Brandin was holding a ring in his hand "In the name of Adaon and of Morian," he said, words of ritual, rehearsed and carefully prepared, "and always and forever in the name of Eanna, Queen of Lights, we seek nurture here and shelterWill the sea welcome us and bear us upon her breast as a mother bears a child? Will the oceans of this peninsula accept a ring of offering in my name and in the name of all those gathered here, and send it back to us in token of our fates bound together? I am Brandin di Chiara, King of the Western Palm, and I seek your blessing now Then he turned to her, as a second murmur of astonishment began at his last words, at what he'd named himself, and beneath that sound, as if cloaked and sheltered under it, he whispered something else, words only she could hear Then he montre cartier turned towards the sea and drew back his arm, and he threw the golden ring in a high and shining arc up towards the brightness of the sky and the dazzling sun She saw it reach its apex and begin to fallShe saw it strike the sea and she dived The water was shockingly cold, so early in the yearUsing the momentum of the dive she drove herself downwards, kicking hardThe green net held her hair so she could seeBrandin had thrown the ring with some care but he had known he could not simply toss it near to the pier, too many people would be looking for thatShe propelled herself forward and down with half a dozen hard, driving strokes, her eyes straining ahead in the blue-green filtered light She might as well reach itShe might as well see if she could claim the ring before she diedShe could carry it as an offering, down to Morian Her fear, amazingly, was entirely goneOr perhaps it was not so amazing after allWhat was the riselka, what did its vision offer if not this certainty, a sureness to carry her past the old terror of dark waters, to the last portal of Morian? It was ending mulberry bayswater bag