"Before these good Elders and the Eldrenne, I will consider whether you are well spoken and judge how you conduct yourself under our ever-watchful eyes. To serve your community as high priestess is to be visible to all and you must exhibit confidence in your demeanor, as well as possess the persona and image that will uphold our standards. Further, you must display an accessibility the media cannot manipulate—and they will try." She appraised each of us in turn. "We will choose five and a single runner-up to proceed to the next round."

Elspeth gestured to the cauldron, then toward the end of the line on her right. "Choose lots. They are numbered one to fifty. You start."

Again, Maria approached the cauldron first. When she looked down, she gasped and stepped back.

"You will draw a lot," Elspeth commanded.

"But—"

"Draw," the Eldrenne said, "or suffer the consequences."

It took Maria a moment, but she gathered herself and stepped up to the cauldron. Sinking to her knees, she stared down into the deep cast-iron pot. She darted her hand inside, gave a squeal and withdrew.

What was in there?

"An empty hand will forfeit," the Eldrenne whispered.

The woman reached in again and as she retrieved her lot she swiftly stood. Held at arm's length, her lot squirmed in her grip. I stared; she held a scorpion by its tail.

"What is the number," Elspeth asked, "on its belly?"

"Six."

Elspeth turned to the next in line. "Now it is your turn."

Maria scanned about for a place to discard the wriggling creature and realized she would have to hold it until this was done. She seemed unsteady as she returned to her spot. The women around me fidgeted nervously.

Remembering Nana's advice, I watched the Elders as this process continued. They were forming opinions of us as we reacted to choosing a scorpion from the pot. I determined not to show any fear. When my turn came, however, staring down into that cauldron, seeing their dark insectlike bodies crawling about, I felt fear.

Still, I watched them, trying to determine movement, to anticipate it.

A childhood memory of catching crawdads in the stream when Nana took me to a nature preserve flashed through my mind. Like a light breeze through a tunnel, calmness billowed into me and blew away the dust clouding my judgment. I reached into the pot, selected a scorpion, and lifted it. "Thirteen," I announced.

After the lottery was reviewed and the critters returned to the cauldron, I found out I was to be interviewed third out of the eleven. Lydia ushered us to the kitchen. "The interviews will begin at seven o'clock. You have free time until then, that is, after you ladies have washed up the evening dishes."

"Dishes?" Hunter asked pointedly.

Lydia's eyes narrowed. "Are you unwilling to wet your hands for the coven you may lead?"

Hunter's jaw dropped, then firmly shut.

"I didn't think so." Lydia turned to leave. "Again, the time before and after your interview is also free time and I suggest you sleep if you can. Return to the holding area. I will come for you there when it is your turn to be interviewed." She left us.

An awkward moment of silence filled the kitchen. I started opening cupboards hunting for the dish soap, found it.

"Let me wash my hands first," Maria said. She scrubbed her hands mercilessly in the sink. "Goddess, I hope there are no more scorpions!" she said and shivered heartily.

She received a bevy of seconds to her thought. "It's not like we'll have to deal with those on a daily basis," added a woman named Suzanne who spoke with a slight Southern accent.

Hunter let her crossed arms fall loose. "No, as high priestess, you'll just have to establish our community platform, state our goals, and implement solid plans to reach them while creating lines not only for outreach but awareness."

"Sounds like you memorized a pamphlet," Maria remarked.

Hunter didn't miss a beat in replying, "Trying to institute and apply that level of strategy makes snatching a single scorpion from a pot seem easy."

Suzanne squared her shoulders. "That is kind of what I meant. We don't have to deal with the unsavory image of the mystic medicine woman of centuries past. That kind of thing made us easy targets for superstition and haunts us yet. A high priestess is clergy. Aside from all the public outlets you mentioned, we also have to be available for our coven members, to counsel and teach them, and often deal with the foolish who want power but are clueless about our laws and ignorant in general. We must be vigilant for our cause."

I noticed Holly's head snapped up at that last and she squinted hard at Suzanne, as if the woman had just spoken some secret spy code phrase. Holly's hands were fisted.

I cleared my throat and interjected, "Comparatively, doing dishes is worry-free."

"If you like menial work," Hunter answered.

"I'm not above doing it," I retorted.

"But a high priestess has far more important things to worry about, as I've just pointed out." She added, "That's not conceit or pride, it's a simple fact."

"Are you ready for all that?" Maria asked, rinsing her hands.

"Are you?" Hunter asked back.

Maria dried her hands on a towel. "Of course, or I wouldn't have asked. And I've noticed that women who think highly of themselves—as in being too good to do the dishes because it might damage their pretty, fake nails—are easily baited and generally turn the hook around and send it back trying to avoid tough questions." She tossed her brown and gray braid over her shoulder. "Think you can answer now?"

Hunter squared her shoulders and took a pose of authority. "Yes, I am ready to be a high priestess, ready for the responsibility and the work of the position. And, if you must know, I have an allergic reaction to most dish, hand, and laundry soaps. I use specialized products at home and I doubt that what they have here is the same."

Maria tossed the towel to her. "Then you dry."

She caught it and said, "I would be glad to." She didn't look glad to.

Holly spoke up. "No one even mentioned dealing with vampires, waeres, wanna-bes, frauds, and the fey."

"Exactly," Hunter said triumphantly. "It all makes washing dishes seem" — she looked down at the drying rag with distaste—"absurd."

"So you'd rather deal with a vampire than safely wash dishes?" Maria pressed.

"Yes."

"Have you ever faced an angry vampire?" I asked.

She spun to me. "I assume you have?"

"I have," I agreed. "And you didn't answer."

She realized she was busted again, but didn't back down. "All I can do is my best. That's all any of us can do. And when this is over, we'll know who the best of us is."

She still hadn't answered the question, but had said something that sounded good and leader-ish anyway. Around us, the side-choosing began, some of it mental, some of it outward as women moved to stand nearer Maria and me, or nearer Hunter. Goddess, help me. I hated politics. I wanted no part of it.

So, I gathered the dishes and started the water, but warily watched the assessment. Maybe I was assessing as well, but I wasn't choosing teammates as if we were on a reality show. I was wondering who could handle the position. For whom was I planning to pave this road?