Role

Chapter 15

"You have the knife and cup?"

Aurew's hands quaked as she fished the knife and ewer from her belongings
and awaited further direction from her Lord.

"Give me the drinking vessel."

She was afraid she would let the rock crystal ewer slip from her fingers
and shatter across the mosaic. Flustered, she mumbled excuses and apologies
to prepare herself for presenting such a mundane vessel. He took the ewer
and poured the water onto the ground.

"You will bless the vessel."

Aurew watched the last of the water spill through the grate. The only way
she knew to bless a vessel was one filled to the brim with water, and that
opportunity was quickly slipping away. So she asked.

"A small sacrifice of something precious."

She knew immediately what this meant, of course. The thin furrow in her brow
betrayed that knowledge. She was embarrassed both by what precious little she
had to give, and the simple fact that she did not view herself that way. After
an uncomfortably long pause, she stated the painfully obvious.

"I do not have anything precious with me. At least not to me."

Aurew suppressed the chill that ran through her as Lord Rahsael's icy cold
hand held Aurew's own. She struggled against the involuntary clenching her
fingers cried for, to keep the warmth from escaping. It would pale in
comparison to how she felt after his next words.

"Trace the knife across your palm. Bless the ewer with your blood."

She swallowed hard. A sacrifice of herself to her sweet, blessed Lord. This
was more than the mark he gave her. This was serious. It was her turn to give
back. Whether she wanted to do it, she did not know. But she needed to.

Unsteady hand clutching the sacrificial blade in white-knuckled fashion,
Aurew sliced through the fleshy part of her palm. She attempted to suppress
the wave of dizziness that accompanied the sharp pangs that stretched from
palm to elbow. Blood spilled forth with surprising speed like paint casually
tossed upon the alabaster canvas of her skin. Lord Rahsael held the ewer
beneath, collecting the literal lifeblood.

"Through Loss, we learn, each scar a sacred lesson. It writes upon us, as
we write upon the world."

And as quickly as it began, it was over. He traced a finger over the fresh
wound and sealed it with a blackened scar. He raised the ewer to his lips,
drank, then proffered the vessel to Aurew. She accepted it, studied it,
and with her heart, soul and blood in hand, followed him into the unknown.