"Zery." She glanced at the child, then set the bowl onto the ground and wiped her hands on her shorts. She took a step back, her foot hitting something white.

I tilted my head. I couldn't make out what the object was, but the way Thea was standing gave me the distinct impression she had no desire to show it to me. Which of course meant I had to see it.

I strode forward. "You left before we could talk."

She flipped both of her hands palm up. "The child needed to be accepted by the goddess."

"Accepted?" I'd never heard the term.

"Presented as a gift. Children are the most precious gifts, you know."

It sounded like the kind of worn sentiment you'd find on a two-for-a-dollar greeting card.

"I've never heard of a child being 'accepted' before."

She shrugged and glanced at the baby. "Perhaps your former high priestess preferred doing the ceremony in solitude. Many of us do."

A barb for interrupting her. With a frown, I took another step into her space, then kneeled, placed my staff on the ground, and scooped up the infant. She opened her eyes, curious and blue, and stared up at me. I had the strange urge to pat her on the chest or run my finger down her face. I grimaced. I'd never held a baby before; as a warrior, I'd never had the need or desire.

Seeing my discomfort, Thea held out her arms. "I can take her." I moved to shift the burden of the child's weight to the priestess's arms, but as I did, my eyes locked onto the white object lying behind her: a knife, made of bone.

I pulled back. "What's that?"

She stiffened, then followed my gaze. "Oh, the knife." She bent to retrieve it. "Have you never seen one of these either?"

A knife made of bone and carved in the shape of a small spear lay across her two hands.

She smiled. "It's a ceremonial knife. Carved over a thousand years ago. About as dangerous as a wooden spoon, as a weapon anyway, but full of magic. I use it to stir the oil."