The two soon reached the little brick home where Meredith's grandmother lived. It was a dark, narrow place, with just two rooms, but it was plenty of space for the aging grandmother and Meredith's younger cousin, Daela, who took care of her. They made quite a pair. Daela, a slender, pretty girl of fifteen, had dark skin and long black hair which she wore in minuscule braids down her back. Her grandmother, some eighty years old and now quite large, had age spots all over her tawny face and neck and hands, and her wiry hair had gone shockingly white. It radiated from her head in all directions, like wispy puffs of clouds.
“Meredith’s come, Gran,” Daela announced as she lead Dienna and Meredith inside. “And she’s brought her friend with her.”
Gran looked over from where she was seated beneath the lonely window. “A friend?” she cackled, “More than a friend, Daela. The Blessed Holy Daughter herself is at our door!”
Daela shrugged and went to relieve Meredith of her purchases and went to put them away in the other room.
“Forgive her, Blessed Daughter,” Gran said, “She is young and does not keep the Way as closely as she should,” she said this loud enough for Daela to hear her in the other room. Dienna suppressed a grin, “And I hope you will also forgive an old woman if she doesn't stand to greet you, as her legs do not work as well as they once did.”
Dienna now smiled warmly and came to sit down next to the woman, “There is nothing to forgive good lady.”
“Oh bless you,” Gran returned, taking Dienna’s hands in her own. “You know, I have felt so close to the gods lately, especially to Seltos. I feel her guiding touch on my soul every evening as I look out this window and see her stars.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Dienna replied, enthused at Gran’s zeal but a bit repelled by her firm grip and bad breath.
“You know, I’ve had such dreams about Our Lady lately,” the old woman continued, oblivious. “She feels so close. I dream of endless stars and I wake up and I can feel her with me still. Do you know, I think she is trying to speak to me.”
“Gran, don’t bother Dienna with such nonsense,” Meredith said, coming over to give her grandmother a peck on the cheek, before taking her seat next to Dienna in the only other chair in the house.
“I don’t mind,” Dienna replied. “I am glad to hear you feel so close to the gods. I will pray that you continue to feel their presence.”
“Oh thank you,” Gran croaked passionately. She turned to Meredith, “See now, it’s not nonsense to feel close to the gods is it? The Blessed Daughter doesn’t think so.”
“Yes, Gran, you’re right,” Meredith replied in reserved tone. Dienna thought she saw her friend’s face redden slightly, but it was hard to be sure. The room was dark, and Gran was seated under the house's only window. The light streamed in directly behind the aging devotee, illuminating the edge all along her white hair, as if she were aglow, while the girls sat in the dim.
Daela returned from the other room and, with a sigh, took a seat on the floor. Their talk turned to Gran's other favorite topic; the latest gossip around town. The Bakers would not let their daughter Wayla marry the Goatton boy because his last engagement had ended with his betrothed's abrupt departure from the Golden Village. The Pendletons had just refused the fifth suitor for their daughter Mariah. A mercenary was thrown out of the village hall for suggesting that the Golden Valley would soon need his protection, which he would gladly provide for the sum of three thousand golden crowns. And it was said that all of the most prestigious families would be attending the Midsummer Festival, maybe even the King himself, though Dienna knew that that last part was untrue. The King never attended the Midsummer Festival, but she didn't correct Gran, who was clearly enjoying being the maven of gossip.
“It has always been my favorite celebration since I was a girl,” Gran said. “Such a lovely ceremony. The sunrise song, the service ending exactly when the sun sets, the dancing and feasting. I remember once I just about danced my feet off with a young man who said he was from beyond the mountains. I thought he was the cutest thing and so mysterious and godly to have come so far to give thanks to the good god Dartos. I begged him to give me a kiss—”
“Gran,” Meredith and Daela both said at once.
“Oh leave an old woman her pleasant memories,” Gran said, indignant.
“Better not to speak about some memories,” Daela said, shaking her head. “In front of the priest, too.”
Dienna laughed, “I am not the least bit troubled, I assure you. I do love hearing about Midsummer Festivals past. I hope that this coming Midsummer will be one to remember.”
“With you presiding, I’m sure it will be Blessed Daughter,” Gran returned, smiling.
Dienna beamed back, “You are kind to say so. I will keep you in my prayers this evening, dear lady.”
The four women visited until the sun's shadows grew long, and their stomachs began to protest loudly for the evening meal. Meredith kissed her grandmother on the forehead, Dienna shook her hand warmly, and then both girls left the old woman in the care of Daela, who harrumphed and objected when Meredith tried to embrace her. After they left, and after Daela had brought her Gran her meager supper, the old woman sat at the window, watching as, one by one, the stars appeared in the night sky.
The sanctuary was quiet as a tomb. Dienna knelt before a small stone altar carved artfully with depictions of the heavenly bodies—the holy sun, moon, and a swirling of stars. An ornate gold candelabrum was the only other fixture in the tiny room, which was more of an alcove within the great, sprawling Hall of Ceremony than a room proper.
Dienna said her prayers aloud, her whispered tones sounding loud and coarse in the sacred silence the Hall commanded after nightfall. When she had been younger, she had thought it silly to pray aloud when the gods always knew the desires of your heart, whether spoken or silent. It was her mother who had corrected her.
“The gods may be able to see into your heart’s desires, child,” she had said gently, “but you may not know your own heart unless you give voice to it. We pray aloud so that we may only pray with the tone of truth in our words, so that we never pray in falsehood.”
And so she did.
“I ask that the gods keep all of our acolytes in their thoughts as they prepare to be tested in the Way, especially my dear friend Meredith. I also humbly ask that the gods watch over all those people whose lives, though small and dark, are brightened by their fervent faith, especially Gran,” she paused and thought of the man with the flower cart, “and for those who give of themselves unselfishly.”
Dienna continued, “I ask the goddess Seltos to guide me through the months ahead as I continue to train at my father’s side, I ask the mighty moon god Lantos to share his never-ending wisdom so that I may be a worthy Keeper of the Gods, and I pray that almighty Dartos grants me success in all of my endeavors in bringing his festival to fruition, as I give thanks to him before all of the Faithful for bestowing the first gift to man. I ask his light to shine down on this humble vessel, this mortal priest bound to his service, and ask that he bestow on her the means to bring glory to his name.” She paused, “And I ask that you grant forgiveness to my brother, Sonder,” she continued, in a quizzical tone, “for he does not know how much he has offended you. I pray that he finds peace within himself, and that he finds a new path in his life that is in keeping with your teachings.”
Dienna fell silent once more. Her eyes closed, from weariness at the long day or from the weight of her impending duties, she was not sure. She could think of nothing else to pray for. She rose, but stopped and gasped as she felt the blazing hot touch of someone’s hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down to kneel.
She cried out in pain as the touch burned her skin through her robes and she fell to the floor, her body twitching and her shoulder screaming.
The pain stopped.
She gasped for air. The agony was fading, leaving only a tingling from her shoulder to her forearm. The burning sensation had all but faded from the memory of her skin. Slowly, she rose to her feet, and cried out in rapture.
I have been touched, Dienna thought wildly. I have been chosen by the gods!
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