by Robin Roseau
"Together."
"I will stand at Change, of course. Will you stand across from me, or is there another word you prefer?"
"Across brings balance," she said. "But we will take the roles you most desire for us to take."
"Then you will stand across," I said. "At Ralisht -- life. Have you assigned the other places?"
"I was waiting for you, and there are no expectations for a place."
"I wish Ulla," I said. "Perhaps at Serenity."
"She will be pleased."
"Will anyone mind if Larien and Terél stand at Joy and Love?"
"No, High Priestess."
I nodded. "Who should stand at a Gift Given and a Gift Received? And I would like to use one or two acolytes. Who is ready, and where should she stand?"
We assigned the remaining major roles. She also suggested solo singers.
"I will sing a song as well," I said. "It is a song of the Arrlotta, translated into the words of the Goddess."
"Oh, that will be lovely," she said.
"No one will mind?"
"Yalla, you must please the Goddess, and you must please yourself. That is what matters."
"That is not all that matters, but I will take your words to heart. The new acolyte. Does she know the songs?"
"No. It is rare we teach the songs to someone before she is able to understand them. We teach her the tune, and she can hum."
"Do you think she could learn the chorus?"
"We can try."
"Who would normally teach her?"
"I will see to this, High Priestess."
"I promised Hastiá I would leave you free to spend time with her."
"And the Goddess offered us a trip to Marport. We will have ample time to be together. But Hastiá has a lovely voice and is very gentle with children. She and I will teach Jer-jer, with joy."
I smiled. "The shortened names spread."
"They do," Vérundia said with a grin. "I may invite Vé."
I laughed. "Your name I can pronounce."
"Ah," said the Goddess, striding into the room. "My little High Priestess and her delightful accent."
I turned to her and switched to her language. "You once told me my accent was terrible. You understood us?"
"It is." She smiled to soften the rebuke. "I guessed the topic." But then she frowned. "I wish to sit beside you. I wish to sit there." She pointed to another arrangement, this one with a love seat and two chairs.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"It is nothing," she replied. "Come." She took my hand and pulled me to my feet. We plopped down together, and then Vérundia took one of the chairs.
"She is very informal with you," Vérundia said, speaking Altearan.
"Tell her to speak my words," the Goddess said. "And to repeat what she said."
"Are you upset?"
"No. Tell her."
"Vérundia, our Prestainamatta requests we speak in her language, and she asks you to repeat what you said."
Vérundia colored and offered an apology, but the Goddess said, "Tell her I am not upset. I only wish to understand the conversation."
That resulted in more apologies, but she repeated what she had said about informality.
"I suppose I am," the Goddess agreed. "Do you mind?"
"No. However you treat me brings me joy."
"Good." She leaned over and kissed me, quite briefly. "We will touch. I cannot get enough of touching you. I have no one else I can touch the way I may touch you."
And that set the tone for my entire stay in the Heart of the Goddess. If she was with me, the Goddess was touching me. They were sweet touches. Sometimes she was still, with just a hand on my arm. But there were caresses, especially of any bare skin. She held my hand a lot. A few times she asked me to put my legs across her lap, and she massaged my feet.
Imagine. A foot massage delivered by a Goddess. It took her about a minute before I was moaning in pleasure and nearly unable to do any other duties for her. But she continued the massage, anyway, and expressed pleasure in my obvious enjoyment.
I offered the same touches in return. "You may touch me however you desire, but my pleasure is in touching you. I will not place my feet across your lap."
I laughed at that.
Much of the time, it appeared as if all she did was look at me intently and touch me, but then she would respond to something someone said, and I knew she was aware of everything going on around us.
It was quite intense.
"Well, let us begin," the Goddess said.
"Before Vérundia goes, I have one issue that requires both of you. May I?"
"Of course."
I looked across to Vérundia. "You sent books with us. I made room in our temple for far more, and we have a room across the corridor that I may turn into a library as well. I do not wish to take the precious books from here."
Vérundia began to respond, but I held up a hand.
"I don't know if you know, or you, my Prestainamatta, but I have been given lands in both Alteara and Framara. Significant lands."
"Tell her your new titles," the Goddess prompted with a smile.
"In Framara, I am now called Duchess of Havenshade. And in Alteara I am Duchess of Indorítanda."
"That sounds generous," Vérundia said cautiously.
"It's completely ridiculous is what it is," I said. "But the lands generate income, and that is how I paid for the work on our new temple. I will use some of the money for the needs of my household. I will use the rest for the work of the Goddess, with some liberty in selecting projects she didn't know were her works."
The Goddess laughed. "I know you will choose wisely. I am very pleased."
"Vérundia, you once indicated you hesitated to rewrite the books here. And so I ask for your wisdom, and our Prestainamatta. I can hire scribes to copy books. We can make more copies for here, and copies for Framara. But I do not know if you wish me to do so."
"It is your decision, High Priestess."
"No," I said. "I want to know what you think, Vérundia."
"I think," she replied, "that it is your decision."
The Goddess chuckled but said nothing, not quite yet.
"Vérundia," I said. "Are you mad at me?"
"Of course not, Yalla. You don't need my opinion. What I think is best doesn't mean I'm right. You're seated on a sofa with a Goddess beside you. Why are you asking me?"
I paused, not sure how to answer.
"I think it's because you don't really believe me when I tell you I hold no jealousy of my position. I have led, because someone must, and it was felt I was the best choice. But now I will help you however you like. But if you are not sure if the books should be copied, ask our Prestainamatta."
And so I turned to the Goddess, but she was watching Vérundia. "She thinks this is a mistake."
"Yes."
"You think she is wrong."
"I don't know."
"This is difficult for her. She has followed tradition, because it is reliable, and it is hard to go wrong when you continue to do things as they have been done in the past. You don't even know how things were done in the past, and so you make decisions using the best judgment you can muster."
"But I lack wisdom, and I lack experience. There are reasons things have been done the way they have been done."
"Why did you ask her opinion before mine?"
"It seemed like the right thing to do."
That was when she turned to me. "Then it was," she agreed. "She is afraid she loses respect if she offers an opinion, and then I disagree with her. She also is afraid of insulting you."
"Will you always be available when I need you?"
"When you need me? Yes. When you want me? Not always. You do not need my advice on this issue."
"The books are not mine. I have no right to decide they should be copied. I have no right to decide what to do with those copies. I have no right to decide which should be translated into the common language so that more people can read them
than only your priestesses."
"Our priestesses," she corrected.
"Our priestesses," I echoed with a nod.
"The books belong to our order," explained the Goddess. "You are the human head of the order, and unless I indicate otherwise, you are free to make any decisions you desire. You may make mistakes. Vérundia made grave mistakes in how she treated you when you first arrived, but did I berate her?"
"No."
"Tell me what you think should happen, and do not be shy."
I took her at face value. "I would like to hire scribes. I do not know how many. Not an army of scribes, but more than one. Two? Maybe four? I do not know if there is room for four. I do not know how long it takes a scribe to copy a book. I would like someone here to select the books that should be copied and sent to Marport for our library there. There may be some books that are fading, and we need a fresh copy here. We should take special care with the original, if appropriate."
"You aren't thinking of everything, but continue," said the Goddess.
"And there are some books, written in your language, that I believe should be translated." I turned to Vérundia. "You once loaned me one written some time ago. It carries the wisdom of the Goddess and discusses love and joy and the sharing of ourselves with each other."
Vérundia offered the title.
"That book," said the Goddess, and I could feel the warmth in her voice. "I do like that book."
"I would like that book translated and then given to a publisher of books to make copies and copies and copies. And we should give those copies to anyone who wants one. The publisher can make fine copies for sale to the fine houses, but even those who cannot afford books should be able to have a copy, if she wants one. And that goes against everything you once told me. You didn't want it copied. I might be making a huge mistake, Vérundia."
"Yalla," she said gently, "Until Hastiá set that book in my hands, some years ago, I didn't know it existed. She found it by accident. Until then, it was not well known. But it is written in the hand of a High Priestess, and it is wrong for me to have it copied. It isn't wrong for you to have it copied. Do you see the difference?"
That I could understand. Even if it was ridiculous.
"What does our Prestainamatta think?"
"I think I would love if that book were shared with everyone who desires," the Goddess said. "I would love if every book in this room were copied and sent to our temple in Marport. But Yalla, I cannot allow an ordinary scribe to copy works written in my language. That may only be done by a priestess, or an acolyte with a careful hand. Now what do you think?"
I repeated the words for Vérundia, and I used the time to gather my own thoughts. "I want to hire scribes. Two at least. I want someone here to select the books for them to copy. But you're coming with us, Vérundia."
"Ullaméistra can oversee this," she replied. "She would be very good at it and would be delighted at the opportunity."
"I don't know what to do about the books in the language of the Goddess."
"But I do," said the Goddess. "Let us find scribes when we return to Lopéna, and perhaps a solution will present itself."
"I want to do that one book myself," I said. "But the language is very difficult for me."
"You, Terélmarestra, and I will read it together," said the Goddess. "There may be portions I wish to change. Larien can take notes for us." She smiled and caressed my cheek. "I would love to spread that book far and wide. There are books here that are only for the priestesses, but very few. Perhaps you will find others to translate in the future. But we'll start with that one."
It was a small thing, I thought, but I felt very good. We had a plan. And I was doing something, something good, or so I decided.
* * * *
Vérundia actually had notes. She delivered a report on what the order had been doing, including a list of new acolytes. "Our numbers continue to decline," she said.
"Tell her that is about to change," the Goddess said.
"Did someone die? Why didn't I know? Shouldn't I have felt it?"
"No one has since you became fully mine," she replied. But she offered an expression of sadness. "I grieve each of you who dies, but it is part of life."
"There are now ten of us that are too infirm to continue our duties," Vérundia said. "Half live in one of the abbeys. The others have gone back to their families."
"Do they receive proper care?"
"Of course."
I felt along the links. I felt many links here in the Heart of the Goddess, and others close. Feeling a little further, it seemed like most of the order was coming for the celebration, in spite of winter weather. There were only a few handfuls of my priestesses who remained distant, some in clumps, some by themselves. Some of those links were strong, but others felt weak. I hung my head.
"We will lose two or three this winter, won't we?"
"Yes," said the Goddess gently.
"I haven't even met them, and now there isn't time."
"No, there isn't, but I will be with them."
"What happens, after?"
"They come to me," she said. "And I take them... somewhere else."
"So they get to see you?"
"They do," she said. "It is as if they are young again. There is no pain, although there is sorrow for those left behind."
"Do we see them again?"
"I cannot answer that," she said.
I nodded and didn't press the issue.
Then I felt amongst the links I had, and Jer-jer was the only new acolyte in the last several years. "Our numbers are dwindling."
"Ah, but now I have a new high priestess, and so there will be new acolytes. Tell Vérundia that Ullaméistra must warn the abbeys by spring."
I smiled. "How many?"
"I haven't decided yet. I must look into the hearts of the girls who please me, and see if they would be pleased with this life. In their hearts, they must wish this. And their families must be able to part with a daughter. I take no one against her will." Then she laughed. "Except your line. You had little choice in the matter, and neither will your daughters."
"I don't mind. You know that."
"You did, once."
"That ended the moment I saw you."
"I know."
Vérundia had a few other minor issues, but then she said, "I have two more, and they are problematic. Hastiá reports a crisis of faith in Remálairtéda."
"I wish her to report to me in person," the Goddess said promptly. "Next, if possible."
"She's waiting," Vérundia said. "Hálameenisha was attacked traveling between Veresta and Menoshídi. There were four of them, one a woman. They wore masks. They knew she was a priestess. They took nearly everything and left her on the side of the road. She might have died if a passing farmer hadn't found her. The King and Queen sent investigators, but they have found nothing."
I covered my mouth with my hand, shocked that someone would treat one of my priestesses in such a fashion. When I looked, I could see the Goddess's anger. I felt for the link to Hálameenisha. She was close, and physically she felt fine, but she was troubled.
"Why didn't I feel that?"
"It was also before you accepted me," said the Goddess tightly. "She has healed, but she needs our love. I wish to see her the moment she arrives, and then we will see. I may ask you to take her into your household, or I may set your maids on her for a while. I will judge her heart before I decide."
I nodded and repeated that for Vérundia.
"Where is this place where this happened?"
"It is two days north of Lopéna," Vérundia said.
"Yalla, I will not order this, but I wish you to travel there on your way home."
"Will you help me find them?"
"Why else am I sending you? It is very difficult for me to travel without you, but it is no trouble at all to travel with you."
"Really? Can you come to Framara?"
"Not yet. Maybe someday."
"I'll need to wa
rn Juleena," I said. "Vérundia, can you send her a note and describe where this is?"
"Of course," she replied.
"Ask her if she has more," the Goddess asked.
"That is everything," Vérundia replied.
"Then retrieve Hastiá. After we speak with her, we will take a short break, and then you may begin to send others in who wish to speak with us."
* * * *
Hastiá's had only details to add. The Goddess was primarily interested in one thing. "How soon until this is a problem?"
"They still offered me respect," she said. "But the younger generation loses faith, and I heard two girls discussing-"
She broke off, and clamped her lips together.
"I must know," the Goddess said. "Soothe her, but I must know."
"Hastiá, I know this is hard," I said. "If we don't know the extent of the problem, we cannot address it. Please tell us. Our Prestainamatta does not blame the messenger."
"They offered heresy, High Priestess," she said.
"What sort of heresy?"
"They both expressed pleasure they weren't selected to become priestesses, and they didn't even try to hide their conversation from me."
"Repeat my words to her," the Goddess said. "This happens from time to time, especially when I have been long absent from the people. It starts small, but negativity finds root in one heart and then spreads to others like a sickness. Sometimes it happens in the heart of a busy town, even when our priestesses visit often. More often, it is somewhere remote, and Remálairtéda is very remote."
I repeated all that, and Hastiá agreed, "It is. Far to the north and two days from the coast."
"Hastiá is the most well-traveled of our priestesses," The Goddess explained. Then she laughed. "After you. None have been as far as you."
"But I have seen the least of Alteara."
"That's not true," Vérundia said. "Even those of us who travel for the Goddess may travel only a small range. You have traveled the width of Alteara, and then from here to the southern border. Even within Alteara, you are as traveled as I am, and more than many."
"We must go there as well," said the Goddess. "But not in winter."
"I-" I paused. "I need to go everywhere, don't I? I need to travel with Hastiá and go everywhere."