Page 72 of A Tribute of Fire

“No.”

That surprised me. Even my family still had a library, and we’d had to sell off most of our books.

Thinking of the palace led my thoughts quickly to Quynh again and that ever-present white-hot pain of losing her, just as sharp and bright as it had been the moment she’d dropped.

Would it ever not hurt as much?

My body might have been healed, but my heart had not and I was afraid it never would.

Io was still talking and I forced myself to pay attention. “There’s no reason for the temple to have a library. No one here can read.”

Another stunning revelation. In Locris basic education was given to all women, regardless of rank. Although I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that a city that hunted women for sport wouldn’t worry too much about whether girls could read.

How long had things been this way? My grandmother had taught me that wisdom had always been passed down through the written word—through the stories told, through songs that were sung, through poems read aloud. If women couldn’t read, they couldn’t access that information. They would never know what the women before them had done. How they had been heroines and overcome trials and obstacles.

I supposed I couldn’t be too outraged over it—my own nation had banned the goddess stories, songs, and poetry entirely.

“No women in Ilion can read? Not even the daughters of nobles?” I clarified.

“The daughters of royals and nobles are not allowed to join the temple.”

A loud warning bell sounded inside me. This felt like treading over dangerous ground. Another reason to hide my identity—it might give the priestesses an excuse to expel me. “Why not?”

“I suspect that it’s because those kinds of women are expected to make marriages of alliance for their families, but what we’re officially told is that the goddess should only be served by those who have lived lives of hardship, who will know what it takes to sacrifice and to serve, and so those raised in homes of luxury don’t qualify.”

That certainly wasn’t true. I’d had more than my fair share of obstacles and heartache.

I knew what it meant to sacrifice and serve.

I was closely acquainted with adversity and loss.

Quynh’s face rose up in my mind’s eye and I had to tamp down my feelings again. I wanted to stuff them into a wooden box where Icould close the lid and hide them away. I feared I wouldn’t be able to function otherwise.

Io said, “There might be some books in the head priestess’s office, but she always keeps that locked.”

Useful information for a later date. Who had the keys? And how would I get my hands on them?

“Over there is the treasury,” she said, pointing at a large square building.

Of everything we’d viewed so far, that sounded the most promising. Trying to keep my voice even, I asked, “Does everyone have access to it?”

I bit back a curse word. I sounded so obvious with my intentions. I might as well have asked her if the eye of the goddess was being held in that building and how I could get inside to steal it.

But Io didn’t seem to notice. “That’s always locked as well and only the high priestess, Theano, is allowed to go in.”

I thought of my welcoming committee, of the woman who had commanded the others and had tried to throw me out. “Is she the one who wears the veil?”

“Yes.”

“Does she always wear it?”

“I’ve never seen her without it,” Io said. “And there’s a lot of speculation as to why she has it. Some think she’s been disfigured or burned. Some have guessed that she’s so beautiful that she hides her face away so the gods will not be jealous of her or try to steal her. Others that Theano is the earth goddess herself and must cover her face so that we won’t be incinerated by her glory.”

I hoped Theano wasn’t the goddess, because I got the distinct impression she wouldn’t be very sympathetic to my cause.

“Or that it’s a rite associated with her office that none of us know about because we’re not the high priestess,” she finished. “But I do know that wearing and keeping the keys of the temple is part of her responsibilities. Something she sometimes shares with the Chosen.”

“Chosen?” I echoed.

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