“So we are all in agreement then?” said the Prominent of Dartos. “Three songs of praise for the sun, one of thanks for the moon, and one of wonder at the stars.”
Across the table, the Prominent of Seltos spoke up, “Only one for our Lady of the Stars?” He snorted and crossed his arms across his large chest. “That seems to favor your god heavily Lord Tevinan.”
“Well it is the Midsummer Festival. The Day of Longest Light,” the wispy old priest returned. “Who better to praise than Dartos? He is the Sun-giver, the Day-giver, the Bringer of Life, the Giver of the Harvest, the Strength of Man—”
“That is no reason to undervalue Seltos,” the other priest returned. The net of sparkling diamonds over his thick dark hair looked oddly dainty on his large frame. He turned his gaze to a squat, middle aged woman at the end of the table who wore a large pendant of a crescent moon suspended on a chain, resting on the upper part of her chest. “What say you Lady Amelie? Surely you feel the injustice of this?”
The woman shrugged, “Lord Tevinan has a valid point. We are celebrating the Day of Longest Light and the First Gift to Man, and we have Dartos to thank for it. I say only one song thanking Lantos for the moon is sufficient.”
“My thanks, Lady Amelie,” the old priest named Tevinan replied with a ponderous bow of his head. The bronze circlet on his brow glinted in the afternoon light, pouring through the windows high above. “As I said, we are all in agreement then.”
The Prominent of Seltos looked about to speak, when the Keeper held up his hand in a gesture for silence.
“My friends,” he started in his low voice. “Let us not quibble over these details of the ceremony. Each of us knows how important each god is to the Way. The sun, the moon, and the stars are equally essential to us.”
He paused and caught each person’s eyes one by one around the table.
“And yet, as Lord Tevinan and Lady Amelie have noted, the Day of Longest Light is a celebration of the gift that Lord Dartos bestowed on us so long ago,” the man said solemnly. “Therefore, I declare in favor of Lord Tevinan’s suggestion. Three songs of praise for the sun, one of thanks for the moon, and one of wonder at the stars will be perfect for our Midsummer Festival,” he finished with a kind smile to the Prominent of Seltos.
“As the Keeper of the Gods commands,” the large priest mumbled.
“Oh come now Varent, don’t be a sorry sport,” the priestess Amelie said playfully. “At every week’s celebration we include, what, three or four songs to Lady Seltos? I believe we are all still very much in her favor.”
Lord Varent looked grim, “She is a demanding goddess.”
“As are all the gods, my Lord of Seltos,” the old one named Tevinan said, his voice rasping at every other word.
Varent was not comforted. “I have felt her desire more as of late. She wants more worship. More wonder and thanks for the guidance of her brilliant stars.”
“And she shall have it Lord Varent,” Tevinan replied with exasperation, “in due time, at her own festival this winter.”
“Aye, she will have it come the Day of the Thousand, Thousand Stars,” Varent returned heatedly, “But will that satisfy her now? My Lady is not to be dismissed.”
Now Tevinan replied with some fire, “No one is dismissing our most revered Goddess, but what you must understand is—”
“Enough,” the man at the head of the table spoke again.
He stood, a tall man, in his sixties. His hair was long and gray, and around his crown he wore a circlet of gold. He wore his usual clerical robes of white, edged with gold and velvet embroidery—which signified him as the Keeper of the Gods.
“Hear me well,” he said. “We will have no more arguments of this sort, now or ever. Lord Varent,” he looked at the large priest with his sharp eyes. “The Lady of the Stars is not the only god who desires our worship. If you truly believe she is dissatisfied with all we have done in her honor, I suggest you take it upon yourself to consult your fellows in the Order of the Stars, to see what adjustments could be made to the ceremonies held in your own chapels. This matter would be best addressed by the Lady’s devotees.”
Varent inclined his head, “As you command Lord Mayrim.”
After another hour’s discussion, the priests concluded their council. Lord Varent left quickly, his silken night-blue robes fluttering behind him as he skulked out of the cramped council chamber and into the hall, headed, no doubt, to his personal suite.
Dienna watched him go with the warm feeling of anger in her throat. She waited silently while Lady Amelie and Lord Tevinan finished their polite chat on the last tourney they had attended in the Golden Village, the old man rambling on to the apparent annoyance of the priestess. He shuffled his way slowly along with Lady Amelie at his side, who held tightly to his arm to support his floundering steps.
Lord Mayrim watched them go with a smile, “So good of Lady Amelie to help old Tevinan as much as she does.” He turned to Dienna, “He is the oldest priest ever to belong to the Order of the Sun.”
“Yes, yes, very nice of her indeed,” Dienna returned disdainfully.
“Is something troubling you?” her father asked, serene.
Dienna took a seat once more at the council table and began toying with the edge of one of the parchments she had used for taking notes. “It’s what Lord Varent was saying.”
“Yes?”
“That the Lady Seltos has become dissatisfied with our praises.”
“And what of this?” her father returned, taking a seat beside her.
“Is it true?” Her shoulder had not stopped hurting since she had felt the touch of the gods last night. When she had undressed for the evening, she had noticed the burn she had felt was not imagined, but rather, a real injury that had manifested as an angry red mark from collarbone to shoulder blade.
Lord Mayrim frowned, “It may be so. He is not the first priest to report some feeling of discontent.”
“Then why are we doing nothing more to appease her?” Dienna said. “Imagine if it were our own Dartos demanding more worship! We would surely do whatever he commanded of us.”
“We would,” Lord Mayrim replied evenly.
“Then why did you dismiss Lord Varent’s concern?”
“Dienna,” Mayrim said, his blue eyes finding his daughter’s gray ones. “One of the first lessons that we teach our children is that no god has more power than another. The ceremonies we do each week, the festivals that honor the gifts of our gods, were all created to give equal praise to each Seltos, Lantos, and Dartos. To acknowledge one god as your patron is expected, but for the Keeper of the Gods to give favor out of turn to one god over another, or to one priest over another for that matter, is a grievous error.”
“Even if one god is more demanding than another?” Dienna replied, skeptical.
“Even so,” Lord Mayrim said firmly. “You cannot please everyone. Including the gods.”
Dienna did not reply. She forced a smile as her father stood and patted her arm briefly before making for the door. She thought she saw him, as he left, remove a small black book from the pockets of his robes, which he hastily put back without cracking its binding. Dienna did not ponder this behavior too long, and soon found herself alone in the council chamber. It was a room longer than it was wide, and taller than it was long. High windows made of glass stained gold, bronze, and silver filtered the light entering the room, made it a dull, unnatural yellow. Even on this beautiful summer’s day, the council chamber seemed a dull, dusky place.
“Ah, there you are.”
Dienna looked up and saw Meredith in the doorway. She hadn’t seen her friend since they had returned from the Golden Village yesterday. She had yet to tell her about what had happened during her prayers last night.
“Yes,” Dienna said abstractedly. “Here I am.”
“You don't look too good,” Meredith said, coming to place an arm on Dienna's shoulder. The movement only served to remind Dienna about the incident last night. She winced.
“Something odd has happened, Mer.”
Meredith raised an eyebrow, “Is it something you can share with me? Or is it something from the council?”
“The council,” Dienna lied. She was not prepared to talk about her experience yet. At first, she had been ecstatic, had taken it to mean she had been chosen by Dartos for some great purpose. Yet, after lying awake in bed half the night, Dienna began to doubt. She had tried to recall if she had ever come across similar happenings in the holy texts and histories on the Way. There were accounts of people claiming to have been visited by one or all three of the gods in their dreams and tales of people even seeing the gods or hearing them speak in their heads, but never had Dienna heard of being burnt or touched by the gods. Ill omen or good, Dienna was not sure.
“Ah. Well, whatever it is, don't worry too much,” Meredith replied.
Dienna nodded.
“Anyway,” Meredith continued, her voice taking on a tone of bemusement, “I was looking for you because the Lady of the Godskeep is requesting that you to join her in the orchard for tea.”
Dienna groaned. She was in no mood for tea with her mother, but when one was summoned by Lady Grenna, one could hardly refuse. “If I'm not back in an hour, make some excuse and come rescue me.”
Meredith chuckled, “Only if you promise to save some tea cakes for me.”
Dienna stood and followed Meredith out the door, “Done.”
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