The temple of Sahrana the Just was the next in line, and Lady Sahrana didn’t hesitate to lead Stavin through the gate. A woman wearing plain white priestess’s robes came out of the temple and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Stavin. When he reached the top step, she bowed deeply.
“Blessed of Arandar, be welcome in Sahrana’s Temple.”
Stavin bowed but didn’t say anything. Where Arandar’s regard had been as warm as the sun, here he felt something much different. The sense of tremendous power was there, but the touch was cool and comforting. It’s like my mother’s hand on my forehead when I had that damn fever.
Stavin walked the full length of the temple but stopped short of Sahrana’s large moon glyph. Dropping to his knees, he bent forward and placed his forehead on the edge of the glyph. He didn’t say anything. He was certain he didn’t need to.
Stavin felt as if he was a child in his mother’s arms again. The feeling was so familiar, so comforting, that his entire body relaxed. He took a deep breath and sat back, looking at the glyph for a moment before standing and turning away.
“What did you feel, Stave?” Karvik asked.
Stavin smiled. “You know how your mom just has to put her hand on your cheek or forehead to make everything all right? That’s the best description I can think of.”
Varik said, “Zahri is going to want a lot more detail than that when we get home.”
Stavin shared a look with Karvik and they both laughed. “I’m sure she will, Var. I’ll tell her everything she wants to know.”
The next temple was that of Alankarah the Kind. Stavin repeated his obeisance as he had to Sahrana, and again his impression was carried by distinctively familial feeling. Alankarah’s misshapen moon glyph, matching the celestial body that shared his name, made Stavin think of his Grandfather Karvan.
Grandpa Karvan had suffered from a degenerative condition that had left his back twisted and bent by the time Stavin was born. Children and animals loved Grandpa Karvan, and he loved them. We all knew we were safe with him.
Stavin retreated from Alankarah’s glyph with a fond, sad smile on his face. “I’ll write it out later, Var, when I can come up with a coherent way to describe it.”
The fourth temple was that of Mariniva the Beautiful. She was the goddess of fertility, and the priestess who greeted Stavin was a reminder of that fact.
Karvik whispered, “Gods Above.”
All Stavin could say was, “Yup.”
The priestess bowed deeply, providing far too magnificent a view down the neck of her robe, and said, “Greetings, Blessed of Arandar. Our Lady welcomes you to Her temple.”
Stavin bowed in return, not trusting his voice, and passed into the temple. This time he knew how to describe the feelings the Goddess was engendering in him: Now I’m missing Shari. I’m really missing Shari.
Stavin knelt at the edge of Mariniva’s lamb glyph and placed his forehead against it. He felt Shari as if she was there, holding him, touching him, and--
Stavin launched himself back from the glyph, wide-eyed and shaking from the Goddess’ touch. He backed away, fighting with all his will to master his mind and body.
“Are you all right, Stave?” Varik asked anxiously because Stavin still hadn’t turned around.
“Yes. Yes, I’m fine, Var. But I’m really missing your sister right now.”
It took a moment for Varik to figure out what Stavin meant, but when he did he burst out in gales of laughter. The whole party watched in bemused silence as Varik laughed until he had to hold on to one of Mariniva’s columns to stay on his feet. He leaned his forehead against the cool stone and suddenly let out a yip of surprise and stared into the temple.
Now it was Karvik’s turn to laugh. “Missing Zahrinis, Var?” he asked.
“I--oh--wow--that’s--Gods Above.”
Stavin grinned at his brother-in-law and said, “Serves you right for laughing.” And I’m glad I’m not the only one She touched.
The priestess stepped forward and placed her hand on Varik’s shoulder. “Our Lady’s touch can be disconcerting for those new to Her worship. Be at ease, young warrior. The swelling will soon subside.”
Stavin bowed to the priestess, then turned to Lady Sahrana. “I think we should go.” He transferred his attention to Lady Mariniva and bowed his head. He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure he could. But she smiled at him with a sly expression on her face.
“The Temple of Ordendershandaram is just up the way, Prince Stavin,” Lady Sahrana said as she turned away from Mariniva’s temple.
Stavin nodded vigorously. “Order would be welcome after that experience. I haven’t had any trouble about missing Shari this trip, at least I didn’t until Mariniva touched me. But now--Oh, how I want to hurry home.”
Lady Sahrana chuckled warmly. “She has that effect on men and women alike, Prince Stavin. Her place as the Goddess of Fertility is very real, and you’ll find her amulets just about everywhere. In your case, however, I think the touch was more direct and personal. I think all of us, including the high priests and priestesses, would like to sit down and discuss your impressions with you.”
Stavin nodded as he considered her idea. “And write it down, several times, because I’m sure Lord Arandar’s friend is going to want a copy.”
Lord Arandar let loose a bark of laughter. “Dahn is going to demand a full account and access to you so he can ask a hundred and one questions. I did a little research myself while you were resting yesterday. You are the first person to have been so honored in seven hundred and thirty years. The last was a woman who became High Priestess Feltara Del’Esten in Luxand and presided over a resurgence of the Old Gods’ worship during that time. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. The worship of Lebawan and Sahren, plus a few splinter groups of other younger gods, drew people away from the Old Gods.”
Stavin was nodding. “I transcribed an old scroll from the last days of the empire, after Dandarshandrake left us, that told how the followers of Lady Sahren and Lord Lebawan fought for control of the empire and ignited the civil war that fractured our civilization and created the seven kingdoms.”
Lord Arandar gave Stavin a thoughtful look. “I had forgotten about your early education as a scribe.”
“A lot of people do,” Stavin replied with a grin. “It comes in handy, especially when I run into academics like your friend. I dislike being talked down to, and being able to throw their arrogance back in their faces is remarkably satisfying.”
“Prince Stavin,” Lady Sahrana said to catch his attention, “this is the Temple of Ordendershandaram.”
Stavin looked at the temple and stopped in his tracks. Where the other temples had been elegant and refined, the Temple of Ordendershandaram was almost harsh. It was all straight lines and geometric forms. Even the columns that framed the entrance were hexagonal.
As Stavin walked toward Ordendershandaram’s temple he felt his racing thoughts slow. The priest who met him bowed but didn’t say anything as Stavin passed.
The inside of the temple was as precisely arranged as he would have expected from the Priests of Order. The glyph of Ordendershandaram was a large square with a smaller square inside, set at an angle to form triangles in the corners.
Stavin knelt and placed his head on the glyph where the inner square touched the outer. Stavin recognized the touch of this God as well: It was the calm, ordered touch of Master Scribe Kel’Zorgan. Thank you, Master. I needed that. Stavin stood and bowed deeply, as if he was facing his old craft master, and then turned and walked away with his mind as clear as a winter’s morning.
Lady Sahrana smiled when she saw his expression. “Did Ordendershandaram help you, Prince Stavin?”
“He did,” Stavin answered. “With your permission, Lady Sahrana, I would like to return to your library and write all of this down while it is fresh in my mind. If any of the priests, priestesses, or scholars wish to see me and discuss this, I would appreciate it if you would tell them to return after the mid
day meal tomorrow.”
Lady Sahrana bowed and said, “As you wish, Prince Stavin.”
Chapter 7
TWO SPANS LATER STAVIN SAT ALONE at a table with an inkwell, a quill, and a stack of blank parchments. Through the rest of the day and late into the night he detailed everything he could remember of his encounter with those most powerful of beings.
Karvik entered the library cautiously, not wanting to startle his friend into a mistake, and shook his head slowly as he resisted the urge to laugh. Stavin was asleep in his chair, head pillowed on one arm and a quill in his hand. It was a pose that he had found Stavin in many times before.
Karvik moved close and closed the inkwell, then gently pulled the quill out of Stavin’s fingers.
“How--? What--?” Stavin asked in a confused tone as he half awoke.
“It’s time for you to go to bed, Stave. And wash your face. You got ink on your nose again.”
Stavin sat back and looked at the page he’d been working on. There was a large blur where he had nodded off. He grumbled, “I hate it when I do that. Now I have to rewrite the whole page.”
“Tomorrow,” Karvik all but ordered. “Or, to be more accurate, later today. Now go!”
Stavin obeyed. He was too tired not to. Aran met him and helped him with his clothes, and provided a solution that removed the ink from his nose without removing his skin.
Stavin snapped awake some time later. Karvik was in the chair across the door reading a book, and there was no sign of Aran or the other servants. He didn’t know what had awakened him.
Settling back, he thought of the day’s encounters. The touch of each of the Gods Above is so familiar. He suspected that Lord Arandar’s friend was entirely correct: the Gods Above were deeply involved in the day-to-day life of their people. Father, Mother, Grandparent, Lover, and Teacher, each influencing the next generation in some way. There was no one to compare notes with, but he was sure Feltara Del’Esten had felt much the same as he had.
“Want to talk about it?” Karvik asked without looking up from his book.
Stavin chuckled. “Can’t fool you, can I? How did you know I was awake?”
Karvik closed his book and gave Stavin and intense look. “You stopped snoring.”
Stavin gave him a hurt look and asked, “I don’t snore all the time, do I?”
“Only when you’re asleep,” Karvik answered with a grin.
Stavin got up and put on the same clothes he’d worn the day before. “I recognized the touch of each of the Gods, Kar,” he said, then went on to explain what he’d been thinking.
“So what we call our nature or our instincts is really the Gods Above acting through us?”
“Yes, I think it is, but I think it’s the Gods Below as well. Think about some of the things we’ve seen and experienced. The men who stole Amarna,” Stavin paused as a pain he would never be rid of stabbed his heart. “Those child sellers, and the men who buy those children. That’s not from the Gods Above.”
“No,” Karvik agreed. “Pain, terror, and sorrow are more like it.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, as certain as I am that the Gods Above are always with us, I’m equally certain that the Gods Below are every bit as active. All it takes is for one of them to gain a little extra influence and you end up a bandit, a warlord, or at a child-brothel.”
Karvik thought for a moment before quoting the Code of the Warrior, “The truly evil don’t know they are evil: they are just following their natures.”
Stavin nodded as a sad expression crossed his face. “Even some of the people I’ve counted as friends are like that. For all the help Madam Elain was to me, the Gods Below influenced her an awful lot.”
“Too true,” Karvik agreed. “Now you, on the other hand, are far, far more deeply influenced by the Gods Above. But you’re not going anywhere like that.” Karvik shook his head slowly. “You need a bath and a change of clothes.”
Karvik pulled the bell rope and it was just a matter of moments before Aran and his staff arrived.
“You summoned us, Blessed One?”
Stavin nodded and said, “I’m expecting the priests and priestesses to come visit today. Probably some scribes and scholars as well.” Stavin looked at his wardrobe and shook his head. “I should have brought more clothes. But I didn’t imagine anything like this happening.”
Valet Orden bowed deeply as he stepped forward a little. “With respect, Blessed One, we may be able to do something about that.” Aran was looking at his helper, and when Orden looked at him, he indicated that he should continue.
Orden bowed deeply to Stavin, then said, “Blessed One, Lord Arandar’s son, Rohdar, left a full wardrobe here when he went away to the university in Rey. At the university, he is required to wear the colors of his class.” He glanced at his master and received another nod of encouragement. “The thing is, Blessed One, when he returned for mid winter that year none of his clothes fit him. He’d grown two hands in just ten moons. He’s as tall as Lord Arandar now.”
“And you think his old wardrobe might fit me?” Stavin asked.
Orden bowed again. “I believe so, Blessed One. Even at just ten and a half years of age, Lord Rohdar was as large or larger than you, Blessed One.”
Stavin gave Karvik a sour look. “That’s because I stopped growing at that age. Very well. I will ask Lord Arandar at the morning meal. For now--what’s clean?” he asked as he looked at his wardrobe.
Aran answered, “The blue shirt and brown pants, Prince Stavin.”
Stavin grimaced. “They really don’t go together that well.”
“Wear your under padding and mail,” Karvik suggested.
“Prince Stavin, that would be,” Aran began, then stopped himself. “Actually, that might not be as bad an idea as I originally thought, Prince Stavin. Arandar the Bright is normally depicted all in gold.”
Stavin considered the idea, then nodded. “But a bath first.”
The four junior servants followed Stavin into the bathing room while Aran laid out the armor. Stavin, contrary to his customary habits, washed quickly and was back in the main room of the suite in a matter of moments.
He had wriggled into his under padding and was squirming into his mail when he saw the servants quickly back away and go to their knees as Karvik muttered, “Oh, Gods Above.”
“What?” Stavin asked.
“You’re glowing again. Not like when you pick up the sword, but brighter than when it’s just near you.” Karvik shook his head slowly. “We can’t take you anywhere.”
“Hey!”
Karvik grinned, then laughed. “This alone is going to convince our hosts that you need more clothes.”
Stavin shook his head and finished putting on his mail. “How early is it?”
Aran answered when Karvik didn’t. “It is just a few spans till first light, Blessed One.”
Stavin looked at Karvik and said, “Back to the library until the morning meal is ready.”
Karvik turned away and opened the door. “Prepare yourselves, men. Prince Stavin has done it again.” Stavin followed Karvik out of the suite and the glow was even more pronounced in the dimly lit hallway. Muttered curses mixed with laughter as the men formed up behind their prince.
Stavin was the first to reach the ground floor and be seen. A maid saw him coming and went to her knees as she covered her face with both hands. Stavin shook his head as he walked past her without saying anything and went to the library.
The smudged parchment was right where he had left it, and he shook his head sadly as he assessed the damage. “It’s just as well that I did smudge it. Even I can’t read what I wrote there at the end.”
Stavin was halfway through the page when Lady Mariniva peeked into the library. “So it’s true,” she whispered.
Stavin looked up from what he was doing and smiled, then waved for her to come in. “Good morning, Lady Mariniva. Yes, it’s true. I didn’t have a tasteful outfit to wear, so I put this on.” He rubbed the mail on
his chest. “I didn’t expect the glow.”
Lady Mariniva came into the library and bowed deeply. “Blessed of Arandar,” she whispered. “This will remove any doubt.”
Stavin grimaced. “I’d prefer to keep this a family matter, if we can?” he said as she finally came forward.
She looked puzzled and asked, “How so?”
Stavin looked uncomfortable. “I need more clothes. Especially now.” He gestured to his armor. “Valet Orden suggested that I approached your father. It’s my understanding that your brother Rohdar left clothes here that might fit me.”
Lady Mariniva looked startled for an instant, then smiled. “Rohdie did leave everything here when he left for Rey. Orden was one of his servants at the time.” She paused in thought for a moment. “I think most of it is still in his room. With your permission, I’ll go talk to Dad about it.”
Stavin bowed and said, “Thank you, Cousin Mariniva.”
Now Mariniva’s expression softened. “You’re very welcome, Cousin Stavin.” Then she bowed slightly and left.
Lord Arandar came to the library less than a span later. “That’s a very dramatic effect, Cousin Stavin. I’ve had Rohdie’s old wardrobe taken to your suite. It’ll still take some sewing by your servants and ours to make them fit you. Rohdar had already started his growing spurt when the clothes were made.”
“Thank you, Cousin Arandar. At least they’re too big. It’s a lot easier to take clothes in than to let them out.”
Lord Arandar looked puzzled. “How do you know that?”
Stavin chuckled. “I have two older brothers and three older sisters. Most of the clothes I grew up in were hand-me-downs or cut-me-downs from my brothers. The few that were made to fit me were made by my mother and sisters after I stopped growing.”
“Indeed,” Lord Arandar said in a thoughtful tone. “I keep forgetting that you were not born a prince. In any case, the morning meal will soon be ready.”
“Then let’s not keep it waiting,” Stavin replied. “I’ve been up since well before first light.”
Lord Arandar turned away with Stavin right behind him. Lady Sahrana was already in the dining room and looked Stavin up and down critically.
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