by Jean Johnson
“So this is basically your idea?” Captain Torhammer asked dryly.
“Organizing it as a discussion, yes. Defining it, no,” he replied calmly. “That would be Master Longshanks’ purview.”
“Thank you. Given the general consensus of everyone present, I believe we can vote that this manifestation was a genuine Goddess event. Any dissenting votes?” Toric asked. A few hands rose, but out of the hundreds crammed into the hall, there were only four or five at most. “Any abstaining? Eight, right. Show of hands for agreement? . . . Five dissenters, eight abstentions, and over five hundred confirmations. Consensus confirmed. Moving on to question two, is a Goddess of Guilds, representing everything which we as members of many guilds believe the Guild System stands for, the sort of Patron Deity we might actually want?
“Again, please raise your hands only if you have something unique to contribute, or we’ll be here all night. Remember, this is a discussion question and not an actual vote by the guilds to accept any Patron Deities at this time . . .”
This time, the debate ranged longer. Some of the men and women called upon to speak even tried to define a different God or Goddess . . . but however fervently they spoke, however much the speakers peered around, nothing happened. Grandmaster Toric eventually ruled after the sixth or seventh attempt that discussing a different Patron was not the topic at hand and would not be further discussed. That sped things up a bit, until the general consensus was agreed upon that a Patron Goddess of Guilds was something most everyone could get behind.
More gratifying for Rexei was how even those who had suggested alternatives agreed that a Goddess of the Guilds seemed a reasonable sort of Patron for their culture to have.
Once more under scrutiny, Rexei found herself grateful that Alonnen had insisted she put her ideas down on paper. It had allowed her to revisit and refresh her ideas on what a proper Patron Deity should be, and more specifically the Patron for her people. By being prepared enough to answer their questions—even if she had to think of a couple replies on the spot—she sounded competent, even professional. An equal among Guild Masters, however young she might be. Rexei felt relief and gratitude for that.
The third question, whether or not Rexei was a legitimate Guild Master of the as-yet unapproved Holy Guild, quickly morphed into whether or not Rexei was an appropriate Guild Master for a brand-new priestly guild. As the Grandmaster Gearman pointed out, it was a question partially wrapped up in whether or not they wanted a new priestly guild, but as more than one person expressed from the audience, if they wanted to be an officially recognized kingdom, it would help to have an official Patron Deity. That was a discussion which Rexei could not sit out of and ignore, for many of the questions and comments were directed at her.
Yes, she believed in Guildra, Patron of Guilds. No, she would never worship or believe in anyone even remotely like Mekha. Yes, she would serve as a priest. No, she would not demand to remain the Guild Master if someone more suitable were found. Yes, she had a charter drawn up—a rough draft of a charter—as an apprentice dozens of times over, Rexei had seen and studied far too many not to know how to put one together, even if she hadn’t ever apprenticed in the Law-Sayers Guild.
Yes, she was serious about requiring apprenticeship in at least three different guilds, because Guildra was the Goddess of Guilds, plural, so Her servants would have to understand the viewpoints and needs of multiple guilds as well. No, she had not been joking when she said she would expect Gearmen to retire or recuse themselves from that particular guild and its Consulate-associated duties if they joined the new Holy Guild, because during votes, they would have to represent only their own guild . . . or choose not to represent the Holy Guild in a vote when choosing to act as a Gearman representative for any other Guild. Yes, she was willing to consider other names, though Holy Guild was the simplest and most direct name for it, particularly if they were going to discard and disassociate themselves from the corrupt, Mekha-ruled version that had just been disbanded.
She had to consult her notes several times to get an answer culled from the ideas written down, but otherwise, she didn’t have too much trouble. If Alonnen hadn’t insisted she write her thoughts down, however, she would have faltered.
The hardest question to answer came from the Precinct captain. “What, exactly, do you envision to be the daily life role of you and your fellow . . . Holies, for lack of a better label? How will you fit into our lives when you claim to want to avoid everything that Mekha’s priests have demanded and done?”
“We . . . will inspire, I guess,” Rexei said. She had forgotten to include this possibility in her note-organizing that afternoon. “We’ll inspire creativity and cooperation. Understanding, too. The guilds don’t always talk to each other, and when they do, it’s often by bringing a complaint to their local Consulate. The Holy Guild would try to foster understanding before misunderstandings become formal issues. Gearmen do some of this, but their main focus is their own guilds, specifically the ones they joined—even as a Gearman, while I can discuss a subject, I cannot legally represent the Lessors Guild for a vote because I have never owned land. I cannot represent the Butchers; I haven’t even harmed anything bigger than a roach or a fly.
“The Holy Guild must come to an understanding of the needs of all guilds, to be able to be the lubrication between the guilds. We need to help point out the similarities, the things that make each organization strong, secure, and caring in regards to each member’s needs.
“And . . . and if we can get over our fear of a deity,” she added, trying to put into words what she knew in her head was right but what her heart still cowered away from, “then the Holy Guild will help pray to that deity for intercession—for rain when the Tillers need good crops, and for dry weather when the Roofers need to work, or for safe conditions when the Roadworks are trying to clear avalanches in the mountains. For protection and aid against any aggressive neighbors, and for calm minds and hearts so that we ourselves are never the aggressors. For inspiration with new ideas, and for the . . . the coming together of resources and ideas when creating new things which will be very beneficial for everyone.
“More than that, though, if the Convocation of Gods and Man has been reinstated,” Rexei told the others, glancing briefly at Alonnen because she didn’t dare mention the word demon, “then we need a Patron Deity, and the sooner, the better. We need to have one codified and accepted so that outsiders will think twice before bothering us, and lost ex-Mekhanans will see that we have order and peace and a Goddess who is a true Patron of this land. She can be Named at the next Convocation, but She needs to be worshipped now, so that She can go to work now. For us, instead of against us. That, above everything, will give us a measure of safety that will stretch far beyond the borders of Heias Precinct or Gren Precinct or even beyond the old borders of Mekhana, for all we will probably never march past those borders.”
Grenfallow spoke up next to Rexei. She did so by holding her arm out over the table, fingers curled and thumb poking to the side. “We have a saying, ‘by the pricking of my thumb,’ and we all know its meaning: The desperate desire to get rid of Mekha. Well, now we are rid of the False God . . . and we have a chance at a true Goddess, one envisioned by a fellow sufferer. It is time now for us to do more than just sign our names in blood. We must add in our sweat . . . but we will need guidance. If we are to have a Patron of the Guilds, then we must all contribute, if not bodies willing to join the new priesthood, then understanding and acceptance for those who wish to serve . . . instead of those who demanded to be served.”
“I’m sure we are all deeply grateful for whatever agent helped rid us of the last one, but we as a nation cannot stand alone,” one of the master-ranked Gearmen at the far end of the table stated. “We do have neighbors. We have things we need to trade for that can only be found outside our own borders—good quality sand for the Glassworks Guild is one example, but it is just one of the many things
we can only get by trade. If we don’t have a Patron Deity, if we don’t have a priesthood that does represent the interests of all the guilds of this land, then how can we talk to our neighbors and be assured they will listen? How can we keep them from invading us, unless we get their own Goddesses and Gods to agree to leave us alone? That requires representation at the Convocation. The alternative would mean war . . . and I for one do not want another Patron Deity of War, whatever else He may have claimed to be.”
“I find myself having to agree,” Captain Torhammer stated. That caused a few blinks, but he continued smoothly. “We do need holy representation to take our complaints and our needs to the whole world, and to be reassured that our concerns are respected and heard. That requires a God or Goddess, and a servant to stand as the representative between Them and the people. But I don’t want to be ordered about by any more holy types. I’ve had enough of that already.”
Rexei answered that one quickly. “I have the same problem as well, Captain Torhammer. I don’t envision Guildra’s servants as the sort to do any ordering around. Suggest, yes. Advise, yes. Command, no.
“I also don’t imagine that we’d ever need all that many ‘Holies,’ as you name us,” she added, unconsciously including herself in that lot, though this was far, far from anything she had ever imagined would happen to her. Rexei had conceived of the idea of Guildra but not of herself as a priestess. Nor could she imagine all that many others would be interested, though she didn’t quite put it that way to the Consulate meeting. “There’d be no more than a couple per large city, and maybe one per smaller town. The little villages wouldn’t even need that much, maybe a visiting holy guildsman on a touring circuit, sort of like a member of the Messengers Guild, dropping by every so many days.
“We wouldn’t be the smallest of guilds out there, but our numbers would be far smaller than Mekha’s priesthood ever was. With everyone believing in the Guild System, we wouldn’t need the power of an overcrowded priesthood to raise power for our Goddess. Your belief in the guilds—which you already have, or you wouldn’t be high-ranked members of such good standing—that belief would easily translate into a belief in Guildra as our holiest representative. What you want in a Goddess, She would become . . . and I think we can all safely say that She would never become like Mekha, because of that belief-equals-being. None of us wants that, so She will not be that. If anything, I should hope there would be others besides myself, people who are experienced in many guilds but firm in their conviction of being utterly unlike the last lot.”
That seemed to satisfy most everyone. Seated at the head table, she didn’t have to restrict her comments to two minutes, though taking too much time would cause the five-minute hourglass to come out. Rexei checked her notes discreetly but couldn’t think of anything to add. Grandmaster Toric pointed at one of the hands raised on their side of the table. The question came from the local grandmaster of the Architects Guild.
“Master Longshanks, would you be taking over the temple at the heart of this city, then?” the elderly man asked her. “Presuming we could evict that nest of roaches currently living inside, of course.”
Rexei shuddered. “No. Absolutely not . . . and I must recuse myself from further answers on this particular topic, as my personal opinion is that every Mekha-tainted temple should be destroyed down to its lowest levels, filled in, and paved over with as many tons of prayer-blessed salt as we can sow, to counteract its evils.” She paused, then added honestly, “Though when I push past my revulsion for the place, I can acknowledge that no building, in and of itself, is evil and that someone might find a far better use for it.
“I saw, with my own eyes, all the marks of Mekha erased from every surface in that temple. It is nothing more than a building now . . . and as such, should probably be put to good use. Perhaps by the Hospitallers for an inn, or the Militia for an inner-city barracks.” Mind racing, she shrugged and finished, “In fact, if anything, members of the Holy Guild should be based in the Consulate halls, so that everyone knows we’re there to serve all the guilds.”
“We’ll take that suggestion under advisement,” Toric returned dryly.
At that point, one of the lady Guild Masters whispered in the ear of one of the master-ranked Gearmen not quite on the far side of the table from Rexei. He in turn spoke up, calling for a vote on a brief intermission to stretch and use the refreshing rooms. It passed with alacrity.
Only her own multicity familiarity with the general construction of most Consulates, even large ones like this one, allowed Rexei to beat the others to the nearest one. When she emerged, the line stretched all the way back into the meeting hall. A few of the men and women waiting in the queue looked like they wanted to talk with her, but long-standing tradition said that what was discussed in the meeting hall stayed in the meeting hall during such intermissions. Only when the meeting ended could anything be discussed freely elsewhere.
Of course, that made Rexei reluctant to return to the meeting hall. Taking a detour around the outer corridors ringing the central chamber, Rexei finally found herself at the front entrance. Peering through one of the windows flanking the great double doors, she watched the lamplit flakes of snow swirling thickly down out of the dark sky. Enough had already fallen to coat every surface of the city street, various motorhorses, and more than one motorcart within viewing range by nearly two inches, with more yet to come.
She returned to the hall when her breath misted the glass panes too heavily to see through. Several minutes and another round of refreshments later, the meeting reconvened with a rap of the Consulate mallet. The discussions continued, dragging on for another hour plus, if not longer; somewhere in there, Rexei lost track of just how late it was, other than the realization that a second mug of mulled cider and a sweet biscuit on top of a bit of cheese was no substitute for a thoroughly missed supper.
The general consensus remained that Guildra’s appearance was a genuine manifestation. The corollary to that was Guildra’s desire that Rexei Longshanks be Her Guild Master, Her highest-ranked representative. But while the majority did admit that the concept of Guildra as Patron Goddess was a good idea, no one was willing to implement it just yet. The idea of renaming their kingdom—or at least this corner of it—as Guildara had some enthusiasm behind it as well, but like Guildra Herself, no one was quite ready to make it official.
Rexei knew it was partly because some people were worried that Mekha wasn’t truly gone, even though by all evidence His symbols were gone even from the temple’s outer walls and His victims had been set free by His own priests, who had only released corpses and infants before this day. But that was only a part of it. Mainly, they refrained because no one in the room felt qualified to make such a huge decision as just one town alone, however large or well-graced by resident and visiting Guild Masters the meeting was.
At least there was a consensus about that much, though it was clear there was still much to be discussed. Finally, when there were too many side conversations happening around the edges of the room, Grandmaster Toric rapped his gavel, collecting the respectful attention of everyone in the hall.
“Enough. It is late, and these things are too great to be settled easily, never mind immediately. Master Gearman Terostream has reminded me just now that in order to be a guild, there really should be more members than just the designated Guild Master. I am, therefore, recommending to Master Longshanks that he acquire three apprentices, each having had experience in the requisite minimum of three guilds as any Gearman requires, with the added caveat that each experience be of no less than three months in order to qualify.
“These discussions will be debated at a future date, as yet to be determined. In light of the undoubted jealousy and outrage the ex-priesthood will no doubt experience when they learn of these facts . . . it is strongly suggested that you do not gossip about the identity of the proposed Guild Master of the new Holy Guild . . . just as you would not discuss
the identity of . . . mages,” he made himself say. More than one person shuddered and glanced around warily. Gathering himself, the elderly Gearman continued, “The proposal to rename this kingdom as Guildara shall be rediscussed two weeks from today and shall include Consuls and Sub-Consuls selected from our nearest sister cities and related towns. We shall also debate further at that time whether or not to accept and spread the idea of this Guildra, a Goddess of Guilds, as our new Patron Deity. With that being said, I declare this meeting—”
“One more thing, Grandmaster Toric,” Alonnen interjected, cutting him off.
“What now, Guild Master Tall?” Toric asked, rolling his eyes. “Or have you not realized you’ve proposed more than enough for this evening?”
“There is one more thing which needs to be discussed right now, Grandmaster, and that is the distribution and care of the ex-priesthood’s former prisoners. In other words, the mages that have been released, now that Mekha is no longer draining them,” Alonnen stressed. Unlike Toric, he didn’t hesitate to say the M word.
Rexei had forgotten about them. She winced, berating herself silently for having forgotten the men and women who needed care and protection. Others around her winced as well, though more for the way he so openly said mages than for anything else. Using the word snared their attention, however, and she watched Alonnen firmly press the point.
“My Guild cannot take them in. Literally, we have not the room; we have not the food; we have not the clothing, nor anything else. We are already overflowing with people we cannot care for . . . and as soon as this snowstorm is over, I am going to have to send them back to your guilds, which means you, all of you, each and every other Guild out there, will have to care for, clothe, feed, and assist them in learning how to pick up their lives again.”