Arc 1, Chapter 20

The Saintess sat in the light of the oil lamp in the dim tent, the flicking light turning her white hair gold. Even in the dim light I could see a flush rising on her face and neck, but she sat straight in her chair, her perfect posture in sharp contrast to her disheveled hair and the messy bundle of robes that had been wrapped around her. Her expression was almost resigned, but instead of answering the question, she looked away from Rhiannon to me.

“How much time do we have?”

I was a bit taken aback by her asking me rather than Rhiannon, but I answered nevertheless.

“Rhia’s departure can wait, but perhaps we should stop soon.”

“Then shouldn’t we inform someone? Is everyone waiting?”

I almost laughed. Of all the things to be concerned about at this moment, and while she was obviously feeling ill, here she was worried about the princess’s itinerary.

“It’s fine.”

She looked dubiously at the entrance to the tent. I sighed.

“Alright. Wait a moment.”

I glimpsed Rhiannon’s bemused expression as I stepped out. It was a simple matter to update the imperial guards – they were all resting as they waited and calmly nodded when I told them to expect to wait another hour, a few of them looking rather happy for the extra rest – and I took the opportunity to stop on the way back to request a blanket and some tea. I waited while it was prepared. We could not exactly have someone deliver it while we plotted against the highest powers in the Empire, so I should bring it myself.

By the time I returned, Rhiannon was chatting cheerily as though this were actually a tea party. Her ability to switch tones and attitudes so quickly made me dizzy. It was also one of the reasons she was such a political force of nature.

I, on the other hand, was not. I was happy to brute force my way through aristocratic interactions, and I was very grateful that our plans thus far did not include me trying to succeed as the next Duke. As if to evidence my lack of social graces, the Saintess stared at me blankly when I offered her tea. I did not exactly expect overflowing gratitude, but it stung a bit that she would be so surprised for me to offer her something warm to drink. I poured her some anyway and sat down.

It was clear that she did not have the best impression of me, and I was a bit at a loss as to why. I was not particularly popular, of course, but I had done my best to only show her my most measured side. Plenty of people among the nobility and peasantry alike whispered about my dirty lineage and raging bloodlust, calling me a beast and a fool, but I found it hard to imagine she would know or care about such rumors. Sure, my behavior was rough and my manners were not great, but I had been on my best behavior around her. This did not feel fair.

“Stop scowling and focus, Erik,” Rhiannon hissed at me. I started and picked up my tea to try and cover up my reaction. Glancing over at the Saintess, I saw her avoid my gaze, looking confused and a bit upset.

Alright. Scowling probably was not helping. At least the tea and additional blanket seemed to have helped her a bit; she looked marginally less tense and the feverish color on her face was less pronounced.

Rhiannon sighed loudly next to me. “Forgive my cousin. He is a terrible communicator with poor manners at the best of times and meeting you under such complicated situation has broken his brain. Please understand that he means well.”

I glared at her, wanting so badly to flick her forehead like I had when we were kids. Just as I was weighing the social cost of doing so now anyway, I heard a soft laugh from across the table.

I looked over, startled, and saw the Saintess smiling faintly into her tea, her lips pressed together as though she were holding back more laughter.

Huh. So she could smile like that.

Rhiannon laughed next to me, the sound positively evil by comparison to the Saintess’s gentle chuckle, and patted my shoulder in an almost sympathetic manner. I was not sure why, but it irritated me even more than her comment before.

“Now, setting that aside, shall we return to our earlier topic?”

Again, the atmosphere in the tent shifted almost instantaneously. The Saintess fiddled a bit with the handle of her teacup, her eyes downcast.

“The fact is I don’t really know.”

I was not exactly surprised given everything I had witnessed in the temple, but I still felt my heart sink at those words.

“I’ve been giving prophecies for almost twenty years now, but my job is not to interpret them. Not officially.”

Her knuckles went white where she gripped the teacup.

“How much do you know about a Saint’s abilities?”

I glanced at Rhiannon. Before Rhiannon and I went confront the Head Priest, we had gathered as much information about the temple and Saints as we could within our limited timeframe. We had both been surprised just how sparse the available information was.

“Honestly speaking, Saintess, there is very little we are certain of,” answered Rhiannon, her tone uncharacteristically cautious.

“I wondered if that might be the case. So, you did try to fact-check the temples claims regarding Saints before gambling on taking me.”

I opened my mouth to respond to that, but the Saintess went on.

“I’m not sure exactly what abilities Saints have either.”

Rhiannon furrowed her brow, but I thought I might understand what the Saintess meant.

“Most historical records regarding Saints are connected to the Temple leadership,” I said.

“Right. When you say there is little you know, I imagine you are limited in part by wariness of the temple’s influence on the available information.” She took a deep breath. “I have always been limited to texts held within the Temple myself, and I do not have access to public opinion. In some ways, I know less that you do.”

“But you are a Saint yourself,” Rhiannon pointed out, a thread of frustration in her voice.

“Yes, I am.” The Saintess picked up her teacup only to set it back down again without drinking. “You still have not answered my question.”

Rhiannon drummed her fingers on the table, her eyes narrowing. I tensed. If the conversation kept going in circles like this, I knew she would start applying more pressure. Rhiannon’s tactics were usually effective, but I did not want her to treat the Saintess like she did her political opponents. It might help us get answers in the short term, but the memories I had of the Saintess standing over the Spring of Blessings with blue-robed figures of priests surrounding her made me sure caution was wiser. If we did not build trust with this woman first, then I worried that we risked becoming the people who pushed her in front of that Spring ourselves.

To my relief, the Saintess continued before Rhiannon broke her silence.

“I need to know is why you took me from the temple. Were you hoping to use my abilities, and if so, what did you think my abilities were? Or were you looking for someone who could verify the information you have regarding the temple?”

Rhiannon relaxed a bit at the Saintess’s bluntness.

“Both. Erik saw you give a prophecy and verified that what you shared was true. In doing so, he witnessed a side of the temple that has been hidden for decades. You are at the center of it all. Even if you have nothing else to offer than prophecies and your perspective, our choice stands. We will not abandon you.”

We would use her, though. And Rhiannon was not in a strong enough position yet for her to promise the Saintess safety or security. I hid my discomfort, though. My guilty conscience was not important right now.

Like a student answering a question in class, Rhiannon began rattling off the information we had collected over the last week or so.

“Saints are the connection between our world and the goddess, people born once a generation who have such strong resonance with holy power that they can communicate with the goddess in her place of eternal rest. A Saint can channel holy power through water from the Spring of Blessings to view parts of the future revealed by Lumina in all her mercy.”

I kept my eyes on the Saintess, watching her unchangingly neutral expression as Rhiannon spoke. This information was all familiar to me and probably to every person in the empire, dogma ingrained in our minds from childhood.

“Lumina’s mercy comes as prophecy and healing. Through prophecy, the Saint acts as the goddess’s voice to protect our borders from the demons beyond the veil. Through healing, the Saint lays hands on the sick and wounded and channels holy power.”

The Saintess’s face contorted almost imperceptibly for a moment, then smooth out again as though it had never changes.

“The Saint is Lumina’s voice, hands, and ears. By praying in the presence of the Saint, common people can be heard more clearly by the Goddess.”

No reaction.

“When a Saint dies, the goddess blesses the people to protected us until the next Saint is born.”

A wince.

Rhiannon’s face was dark. “Is that all what you have been taught as well, Saintess?”

The Saintess nodded once.

“Right. Good enough. Now, as for what we know this doctrine to mean in a practical sense, that’s different. As you know, the prophecies we’ve received have been limited, especially recently. As for healing, I could find no concrete evidence of our current saint – you, that is – conducting any public or private healings.”

Rhiannon paused briefly, but the Saintess stayed silent and kept her face expressionless.

“And of course, there’s no way for us to verify the prayers, not unless we could ask Lumina herself somehow.”

The atmosphere in the tent grew thicker. I knew what Rhiannon was going to say now, and the implications of that information repulsed me.

“The last bit is ambiguous and could very well just be an attempt to placate the public in the times between the death of one Saint and the canonization of the next. But we did find hints of something more concrete. Or rather, I remembered something I had seen a while back that stuck with me. There was a crackdown on tax evasion among the nobility that overlapped with the death of the last Saint. In the audit records I saw a pattern of particularly prominent aristocrats obtaining unnamed holy items from the temple in the weeks immediately after the last Saint’s death, valued at astronomical prices but with no further description. It led us to wonder if-”

“Rhia,” I interrupted softly.

The Saintess was as expressionless as before, but very pale, her only color the feverish flush sitting too-high on her cheeks and neck. Her hands were clenched around her cup.

Rhiannon glared at me briefly but relented. Slowly, the Saintess’s grip on her teacup eased, and she spoke again.

“For now, I’ll tell you what I can and can’t do. As for the rest…”

She trailed off. I nodded. We did not have much time, and this was not an easy topic.

“I can perform prophecies with Holy Water. You have both seen it.”

The eerie light from the Spring of Blessings seemed to glow in her eyes, then she looked down at her tea and it was gone.

“There are times when I see fragments of prophecies without Holy Water, too. No one else knows about this.”

I tried to hide my shock. Rhiannon did not try to hide hers.

“When you say they don’t know, does that mean they also don’t know what you’ve seen?”

“Yes.”

Rhiannon sat back, exhaling heavily.

“I cannot heal for you. I – I’m sorry.”

Rhiannon waved her hands dismissively. “Ah, that’s not why we took you anyway. That doesn’t matter. But have you ever told anyone about these other prophecies? Does anyone know what they predict besides you?”

It was the Saintess’ turn to look shocked. “You don’t need me to heal?”

“No, it’s fine. I imagine there are special requirements or something for you to conduct healings considering how rarely it’s mentioned even in historical records. We never assumed you could. But your prophecies –“

“No, I’ve never told anyone.”

“Hah.” Rhiannon grinned. “That’s good.”

I kicked her under the table. She scowled.

“I’m not saying we’ll make her tell us, but it’s good there’s things they don’t know. Not to say I don’t want you to tell us, Saintess,” she said seriously, meeting her eyes intently.

She nodded in response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the request.

“I can sense people’s emotions and desires under certain conditions.”

Rhiannon was barely hiding her glee now, undoubtedly envisioning us employing a new weapon during negotiations and interrogations.

“It often triggers a vision, though, so it’s not reliable. And I’m not the best at interpreting what it means.”

I ignored how Rhiannon’s face fell a bit at that to ask, “Does it also require you being in contact with Holy Water?”

“Yes.”

I shot Rhiannon a look, and she nodded slightly, looking a bit disgruntled. We had agreed that we would not pressure the Saintess into anything that harmed her unless circumstances were extreme. My only concern was for when Rhiannon and I would inevitably disagree on what qualified as extreme.

We waited for her to continue, but she did not say anything else, neither confirming nor denying the implications of Rhiannon’s information about the death of Saints. To Rhiannon’s credit, she did not push the issue.

“Well, you’ve confirmed something important, which is that the Temple does not know everything about the future you see. But that still leaves my first question. What do they do with the prophecies you give them?”

After an unsteady sip of tea, the Saintess responded.

“After a Ceremony, I record and share what I saw. The official interpretations are done by priests like Kielan. Usually Kielan himself.”

The Saintess took a deep breath.

“But in the end, I do actually interpret them. Not the official prophecy, or whatever it is they share with you, but I am the only one who sees the vision itself. Sometimes, though, the vision is disjointed or of a place I have never seen.”

She looked up, her gaze sharp.

“Have you ever wondered how someone who has not left the temple since she was four is able to tell you which valley the next incursion will occur in from just the images of the incursion itself?”