Fires of Justice
Part 17: Pilgrim – Information
“Son
of a gun!” Kale said, grinning with the beginnings of understanding.
“Ax!”
The
face on the huge statue of Davanek wasn’t wearing a grin – but there could
still be no denying that it was the face of the man who had offered Kale a
chance to live, by coming to this world.
“Man,”
Kale said, grinning still, “I got rooked!
I love it! Thanks,
Ax!”
“Kale
Sword-breaker, are you well?” Brek, the young cleric Kale had aided, asked
quietly. “You
aren’t making a great deal of sense, Swordsman.”
“I’m
fine, Brek,” Kale said, turning to face the boy.
“I just had a moment of revelation, I think.
No, wait – ‘My friend Thanna told me that your world could supply
what the world we send you to needed,’ he said.
Thanna? Alethanna!
“Better
make that two revelations!”
“You
– Kale, you met Davanek?!”
“I
think I did,” Kale agreed.
“Man!
“Oh,
hey – sorry, Brek. You
said that Ariisa and . . . Krenel, was that it?
You said they were awake.
Take me to them? And
then . . . maybe you could find me a higher rank member of your church?
I have questions . . . !”
“I
– yes, of course, Sword-breaker!”
Brek
led Kale back to the antechamber at the back of the main room where the others
had been taken and healed. Sitting
in large comfortable chairs were Ariisa, the half-elven woman he’d helped
rescue, and Krenel, a big man who was now dressed in tunic and trousers, his
scale armor having been removed during the healing.
They sat across from a tall, lean man in his fifties, who wore a red robe
over black trousers. All
three stood, when Brek ushered Kale in.
“Kale
Sword-breaker,” Brek said as they entered, “you have met Ariisa of Sorremel
Forest. The other
gentleman you aided is Krenel of Shiramor, and this is the High Priest of the
Temple of Davanek at Khorlan, Palkor of Khorlan.
“And
this is Kale Sword-breaker, a warrior of much honor and compassion, who saved my
life, and those of my companions.”
“It
is an honor indeed to meet a man who cares for the lives of those he does not
know,” Palkor said, standing and shaking Kale’s hand.
He motioned Kale and Brek to sit in the other chairs in the room, and
dropped his own wiry frame back into his chair.
He looked at Kale for a moment, his pale brown eyes appraising, and
liking what he saw, by his smile.
Ariisa
and Krenel added their thanks to those of Brek, and Palkor thanked Kale for
saving those who followed his god – then the High Priest directed his gaze to
Brek, and took in the young man’s obvious excitement.
He raised an eyebrow at the youngster, and said, “Cleric Brek, you seem
excited. I know you
are no stranger to violence – so it cannot be over a passage of arms.
What has you so eager, young man?”
“Sir,
I believe that Kale Sword-breaker is an Outworlder,” Brek said.
“Or so the tales of him say – ”
“Tales?
Of me?” Kale
looked shocked. “What
tales?!”
“Already
I know somewhat of you, Kale Sword-breaker,” Palkor said, grinning at the
stunned look on Kale’s face.
“Emoran of the Temple of Arteneh and Vallesennsarillian of the
Fallammen Forest told those at the Temple of Arteneh of your adventures since
entering our world – and there were minstrels present, sir.
Already, I have heard the Song of the Broken Blades.”
At Kale’s unfeigned, jaw-dropped look of shock, Palkor laughed, before
saying, “Actually, it’s quite a good ballad, sir.”
“I
– just Kale, please, High Priest Palkor,” Kale said.
“I’m no noble, and when you say sir, I look around for my father –
or a knight.”
“Then
I am only Palkor, unless I am performing a ceremony – or training the younger
priests,” Palkor said. “We
are not wizards, here, to insist on flowery titles.
“Now,
please, Brek – continue.”
“Kale
Sword-breaker is an Outworlder,” Brek said, “as you have already heard, sir.
But . . . Palkor, he knew Davanek’s face, on the statue in the main
temple room! I think
that it was the Lord of Honor who brought him here!”
Palkor’s
face broke into a huge, delighted smile, at those words, and he laughed aloud,
not in derision, but in happiness.
“Is
this true, Kale?” he asked, after a moment.
“Did Davanek draw you into our world?”
“I
believe so,” Kale said. “The
man who brought me here – and in doing so, saved my life! – wore his face.
And he told me to call him ‘Axel,’ or just ‘Ax.’
Then Brek told me that the elves call him ‘Axellendar,’ meaning
‘axe of honor’ –”
“Actually,”
Ariisa interrupted quietly, “it means ‘broad blade of honor,’ when
translated literally. My
father’s people have never used an axe as a weapon, Kale.”
“That
makes sense,” Kale said. “Anyway
. . . that made everything fall into place, including Ax’s comment about his
friend Thanna – who I’m betting is Alethanna.”
“I
imagine you are correct,” Palkor said.
He looked thoughtful and excited at the same time.
“Kale . . . understand, if you are not comfortable telling me, I will
not be angry – but I would like to know what my Lord Davanek told you, before
bringing you here, if I may?”
“I
don’t think it was in confidence,” Kale said.
“And I certainly don’t mind telling you.
Maybe you can explain a bit more to me, in exchange.”
“I
will certainly try,” Palkor agreed.
“All
right,” Kale said, and ordered his thoughts for a moment, before speaking.
“Give me a minute to remember.”
While
Kale thought, Palkor summoned a servant, and ordered drinks for all.
In a moment, Kale was sipping a mug of that apple-flavored beer, going
over his memories, so as not to miss anything important, when he told his tale.
“Okay,”
Kale said, after a couple of sips.
“Here’s how it happened.”
He
told them of his world, and of how he perceived Christianity, as a beginning.
Then he moved on to movies, calling them “plays that were recorded,”
and of his job in the movie industry.
Finally, he told them of the Star Wars series, and how it had
captured his imagination, how he had set out to earn a part in that saga,
training with swords as his most likely ticket in.
Then
he spoke of his death – and he was too lost in his tale to see the respect
that sprang up in the eyes of his audience, when he spoke of defending a woman
he didn’t even know, even at the cost of his own life.
Finally,
he told of his conversation with Ax – Davanek, it seemed.
How the God of Honorable Warriors had actually told him very little,
other than that the world her would be entering was darker than his own – and
that Kale could make a difference, if he cared enough.
“I
do care,” Kale finished.
“I do – and I want to help.
If that means taking down a bunch of monsters who are about to rape and
kill a girl, or a bunch of human monsters who would rape and kill for money and
pleasure, or sticking up for some badly outnumbered people in an alley, I want
to help!
“And
if that means simply being polite to everybody who is polite to me, trying to be
. . . to be good, to do nothing that I might be ashamed of later, that’s okay
too.
“I’m
not going to insist on solving every damn problem with my sword.
That’s a bully’s way, not a . . . not the way of a man of honor.”
“Davanek’s
beard!” Palkor said. “It
is no wonder that He brought you here, Kale Sword-breaker.
For you are a man of honor – and there are far too few of those, in any
world.”
“Oh,
I don’t know,” Kale said, backing away from the praise as though afraid of
it. “When Ariisa
screamed, while I was in the bar, a lot of people went to help.
Jorn, the two Guardsmen, and the elves that were there.
Not just me. And
damn near the whole bar was there, when it was over.”
“Jorn
of Ibrik is a Cleric of Alethanna, Goddess of Justice,” Palkor said.
“And he is a man of honor, indeed.
The guardsmen of this city are good men, and of course they responded.
It is, after all, their job.”
“And
the elves,” Ariisa said, “responded because I am of elven blood, however
much that may be mixed with human.
No elf can ignore a plea from his people, without risking becoming
outcast.”
“And
the rest, Kale Sword-breaker,” Brek said, “the others who were in the bar,
and followed you out – they came to watch, as people will come to watch a
simple brawl in the streets.
Had there been no Jorn, no Guardsmen, no elves . . . they would not have
helped. Oh, some
might have told the Guardsmen what they saw – but none would have tried to
save us.”
“Oh,
man,” Kale said. He
remembered a phrase from his own world, one applied to traffic jams caused by
people gawking at accident scenes.
“ ‘Visual delays’ . . . yeah, I get it.
“Still
. . . Palkor, why me? Okay,
yeah, I’m honorable enough for Davanek, I got that – and I’m flattered.
But . . . there had to be others.”
“Did
there?” Palkor asked. “Think
a moment, Kale, and then tell me; how many honorable men, with skills equal to,
or at least comparable to, yours, have you met in your life?”
Kale
did as Palkor asked – and was shocked at the low number he came up with.
“Oh,
man,” Kale sighed. “Only
three, Palkor. You’re
right. Two of my
swords instructors, and a writer – a bard, to you.
My dad . . . he taught me honor, in a lot of ways, but he’s a farmer,
not a warrior.”
“You
see?” Palkor said. “Not
so many. And I
don’t know if they had destinies on your world or – ”
Palkor
froze, for a moment, then cocked his head as though listening – and his eyes
pulsed red, for just a moment.
“I
understand, Lord,” Palkor muttered.
Then he looked at Kale, and said, “Davanek asks that I tell you that
your instructors were not your equals.
You have, by combining their teachings, and those of the other
instructors who were not so honorable, surpassed all of them.
And this ‘writer’ you speak of . . . he is needed where he dwells.”
“Holy
– Davanek just spoke to you?!” Kale asked.
“Gave you a message for me?!”
“He
did.”
Kale
shook his head as though to clear it, then stood, and began pacing.
“Gods
who talk to their followers . . . .” he muttered.
“Gods who heal the sick and injured.
Gods who grant the power to do something to their followers.
“And
Gods who send messages to me!
“This
is going to take some getting used to!”
Kale
sat back down, and quaffed his beer, then looked at the other four and said,
“It’s not easy being an unbeliever, here!”
“Then
why be one at all?” Ariisa asked.
“Stop,”
Palkor said without rancor, raising a hand towards Ariisa and the other two.
“Ariisa, you are not being fair.”
“I’m
not?” Ariisa said, looking surprised.
“I’m only asking that – ”
“That
Kale discard some twenty-three years of being conditioned to his lack of belief,
all in a few days time,” Palkor said.
“Ariisa, this is like me asking you to believe that there are no
spirits in the trees, that they are only plants – when all you know points to
something else.”
“Oh,”
Ariisa said, looking startled.
Then she blushed, and turned to Kale.
“I’m sorry, Kale Sword-breaker.
It’s just – I can’t imagine not believing.
I’ve known the voices of the Gods for all of my life – and it is
difficult to imagine the silence you know.”
“No,
it’s okay,” Kale said. “I
get it. It’s like
me meeting you in my world, and expecting you to just discard your belief.
I’d expect it, because unbelief is all I’ve known.
“But
. . . Palkor, why didn’t Davanek just tell me himself, instead of sending it
through you?”
“Because
you are alive, now,” Palkor said.
“And not yet ready to believe . . . wholly.
You believe, or start to, Kale – but it is not enough, not yet.
There are still barriers that Davanek would see worn away . . . and his
speaking to you would send them crashing down, perhaps too suddenly for your
well-being.”
“Okay,
that makes sense,” Kale said.
“But . . . well, when will I be ready?
How do I get ready?
How do I wear down the walls?”
“I
don’t know when you will be ready,” Palkor said.
“You get ready by asking questions, and by listening to the answers –
and trying to accept them. You
wear down the walls by seeing – and by believing.
“When
the time is right, when you are ready, and need to hear – or be heard by –
Davanek – he will speak to you.”
Kale
took a deep breath – and then bared what was rapidly becoming his greatest
fear.
“What
if I’m never ready?”
“Then
you will never hear the voice of Davanek again, while you live,” Palkor said
softly, with a voice that bore no ill-will.
“And still, Kale Sword-breaker, you will honor him.
He will not be displeased with you.
No anger, no punishment, no disappointment.
“Davanek
did not bring you here to be his worshipper, Kale, though it would honor him,
if you found his truth.
“He
brought you here to be a man of honor.
To defend those in need of defending, to stand on a line, and hold it
against the darkness.
“Do
these things, as I believe you cannot help doing – and you will meet the Lord
of Honor when your days are over – and he will welcome you gladly into his
fortress.”
Kale
thought that over for a long time, sitting and sipping a fresh glass of ale.
The others let him think, talking to each other quietly while he did so.
“Palkor?”
Kale said, after almost half an hour.
“Yes,
Kale Sword-breaker?”
“What
if I were to . . . to follow another God?
One of the ones that Valless called the Gods of Light?
Alethanna, or Arteneh?”
“Davanek
would still be pleased that you heard the call of the Gods, Kale.”
Palkor smiled a little, and said, “He is not a jealous God, as the one
of your upbringing was. He
will be well pleased, should you follow one of his allies.”
“Okay,”
Kale said. “I . . .
I’d like to come to your services, while I’m here.
And to attend those of Alethanna and Arteneh, as well.
I want . . . I want to get a feel for things, I guess.
So see where I fit – if I fit anywhere.”
“It
would be a pleasure to see you,” Palkor said.
“Or to hear that others in the service of the Light have seen you.”
“Okay.”
Kale stood. “All
right, thank you. But
now . . . I’m exhausted. It’s
been a long day. I
think I’d like to go back to the inn, get some sleep.”
“May
I walk with you, then?” Brek said.
“I’m not tired, yet, and a walk might help.”
“That’d
be great,” Kale said. “I
was going to ask. For
all I know, one of the people I took out tonight had a brother, and he’s
pissed at me. I’d
rather not go walking around in the middle of the night without anyone to watch
my back.”
Kale
said his farewells, and he and Brek walked back to the Inn of the Mellow Dragon.
Along the way, the boy asked questions about Kale’s sword, and his
swordsmanship, staying away from the topic of religion completely.
Kale was grateful for the consideration, and in repayment, he stopped
twice to demonstrate to the kid a move that was asked about.
They
arrived at the inn without incident, and Kale entered, after bidding Brek
goodnight. The door
was unlocked, and Kale found the dining room empty, save for a young woman who
was washing down the tables.
She heard him enter, and looked up at him from under a veil of brown
hair. She
straightened quickly, and said, “Good evening, sir.
May I ask your name?”
“I’m
Kale Sword-breaker,” he answered.
“I had rented a room –”
“Yes,
Master Samfer told me,” the girl said.
“He is in his bed, though if you need anything I can’t get you, I’m
to wake him.”
“All
I need is a mug of ale, and then a bed,” Kale said.
He grinned at the girl, and added, “And to know which tables you
haven’t cleaned yet, so I don’t get one dirty again.”
“Thank
you, sir,” she said, smiling.
“Those closest to the fireplace I haven’t washed.
Sit, I’ll get your ale.”
She
left the room for a moment, and when she came back, Kale finally got a good look
at her, when she came close to the now-low fire.
The
girl was about five feet, four inches tall, and weighed perhaps 105 pounds. She
was slender, with small breasts, and hips that would have looked skinny on
another woman, but that suited her small waist perfectly. Her hair, brown and a
bit more than shoulder length, complimented her hazel eyes perfectly. Her
features were slightly narrow, but still pretty.
“Thanks,”
Kale said as she set a mug down before him.
“What do I owe you?”
“Nothing,
sir,” the girl said. “Master
Samfer was very specific. You
don’t pay for your drinks here, not after what you did earlier.”
“Well
. . . all right, I won’t argue about it, miss – on one condition.”
“What
might that be, sir?”
“Stop
calling me sir,” Kale said.
“My name is Kale, and I’m not nobility.
Call me Kale, or Sword-breaker, but drop the sir, please.”
“All
right,” the girl said with a chuckle.
“All right. Kale,
then. And I am Dannej
of Rhydane. Not
‘miss.’ Is that
fair?”
Kale
stood and bowed, saying, “Perfectly fair, Dannej.”
He sat again, and said, “I didn’t see you earlier.
You only clean up, you don’t serve drinks?”
“Not
yet, Kale,” Dannej replied, working while she talked.
“Master Samfer’s got all the serving girls he needs, right now.
If one of them leaves, I can take her place.
In the meantime, he pays fair well, and I get a roof over my head, and
plenty to eat. And I
get most of the day to myself, as well, since I don’t start work ’til supper
time. I’m not going
to get rich working here, but I’ve no skills worth selling, really.
And Master Samfer is kind.”
“That’s
good,” Kale said, sipping lazily.
“So, where is Rhydane?”
“Far
and away from here,” Dannej said.
“I’ve no idea exactly how far, if you were to walk it in a straight
line, for I traveled in a flitting way, not coming straight to Khorlan.
At least six months, on foot, I’d guess, since I’ve been traveling
more than two years.”
“And
you’re how old?” Kale said, looking at her a bit agape.
“I’ll
be sixteen on the last day of the Harvest Festival,” Dannej answered.
“And
where are your parents?” Kale asked.
“I
. . . they’re dead,” Dannej said quietly.
“Them and my little brother.”
“Damn,”
Kale said. “I’m
sorry, Dannej. I
didn’t’ mean to bring up any unpleasant memories.
I just . . . I can’t imagine living on the road, at your age, even with
your folks.”
“I
wasn’t with them.” Dannej
looked at Kale and he saw the remnants of an old hurt in her eyes.
“I left Rhydane to try to find those who took my mother and brother,
and killed my father.”
“You
were on the road alone at thirteen?” Kale said.
“By the Force, you must be one tough cookie!”
Dannej
looked askance at him, and said, “ ‘Tough cookie,’ Kale?”
“Sorry,”
Kale said. “I’m
not from around here. Where
I’m from, that’s a way of saying, ‘you look kind of small and frail, but
obviously, you’re tough.’
And you must be, after all that time on the road.”
“Thank
you,” Dannej said, and went back to washing tables.
“I don’t feel so tough, most times.
I . . . miss them still.
My family. There’s
no hope of finding them, not now, but . . . I miss them.”
“That’s
only natural,” Kale said. “I
miss my family, and I know where they are.
I can’t get there, but . . . knowing makes a difference.
“I
. . . if you want to talk about it, I . . . would be glad to listen . . . ?”
“Not
. . . right now,” Dannej said.
“I just . . . I’d like to talk, sometime, but not now.”
“Okay,”
Kale said. “I’ll
be here through the Harvest Festival, at least.
Anytime you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
“Thank
you, Kale,” Dannej said, and smiled at him.
“And . . . well, it’s hardly fair, after I said I don’t want to
talk, but . . . they say you are an Outworlder?”
“I
am,” Kale said. “This
place . . . it’s going to take some getting used to.”
“The
world you come from . . . what was it like?”
Kale
chuckled, and realized he wasn’t tired, anymore.
So he might as well tell her, take her mind off of her own troubles.
“Well,
first off, we didn’t have any magic,” Kale said.
“We did everything with science – like sages, you know?”
Dannej
gaped at him.
“It’s
true,” Kale said. “No
magic. No wizards, no
clerics, at least not as you know them.
Still, we had things you may never have, just as you have things we could
never have had. It’s
really kind of fascinating, when I think about the differences . . . .”
Kale
talked, and Dannej listened, until almost two in the morning, before his day
finally caught up with him, and she helped him to his room, where he fell on the
down-filled mattress and slept immediately.
_________________________________________________
Kale
woke at a little after nine, and felt . . . invigorated.
He trotted downstairs, ordered breakfast, and was gratified to find the
portions huge, enough to fill even his ravenous stomach.
And
after breakfast, he took a step he hadn’t been ready to take before last
night. Chuckling,
hearing Alec Guinness’s voice in his head, saying, “Congratulations.
You’ve just taken your first step into a larger world,” Kale left
the inn, and started off for the Temple of Davanek.
The
Temple was busy, with many warriors wandering in and out.
Kale joined the inbound stream, and entered the actual temple in only a
couple of minutes.
He
had missed the morning service, and was early for the noon service – but there
was still plenty to see. Warriors
knelt in a loose half-circle around the altar, praying silently, most tossing an
offering in one of the bowls scattered around the altar when they stood to
leave.
Unsure
of what he wanted to do next, Kale simply sat in one of the pews, and watched
for a while. Mostly,
he watched faces, and liked what he saw.
The men (and occasional woman) who came here to pray were all obviously .
. . comforted? Satisfied?
All obviously got something from their efforts.
And it didn’t look to Kale like the shiny-eyed fanaticism that he’d
seen in his mother’s eyes, after she prayed, or attended services.
It looked . . . calm.
Not quite casual, but . . . normal.
Yes, normal.
He
liked that.
“Warrior?”
Kale
turned to see the girl who addressed him, and was shocked at her apparent age.
She looked to be thirteen, perhaps fourteen.
She was tiny, barely taller than Valless, though a good bit more
muscular. She looked,
for all the world, like one of the gymnasts of his Earth, all corded muscle,
topped by an incongruously cute face.
“Do
you need to speak to a priest, Warrior?” she asked.
“You’ve been here some time, and not gone to pray.
I thought . . . .”
“No,
I’m fine,” Kale said. “I’m
. . . not of the faithful, I guess.
Yet, anyway. You
could tell me when the next service is, though?”
“There
will be a service right after lunch,” the girl answered.
“You may stay, of course, and wait.
I just wanted to make sure your needs were being met.”
“Thanks,”
Kale said. “I . . .
may I ask a question? It’s
kind of nosy, so if you don’t want to answer – ”
“Of
course you may ask,” the girl said, dropping to a seat on the bench next to
him. “I’ve
nothing to hide, sir.”
“Well
. . . how old are you, miss?”
“Acolyte,
not ‘miss,’ please,” the girl corrected.
“Or you may call me Chana.
And I’m fourteen, last month.
I only recently joined the Temple, which is why I’m on greeter duty.”
“Chana,
then,” Kale agreed. “And
I’m Kale, not sir, okay?”
The
girl’s eyes widened just a bit, and Kale knew she’d heard his name.
She nodded, and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, s— Kale.
Already, today, I’ve heard your name a dozen times, from those who
witnessed – or claimed to witness – your battle last evening.
You are already being . . . well, odds for betting on you in the Harvest
Games are nowhere near as steep as they usually are for newcomers.”
“Well,
I guess I won’t bet on me, then,” Kale said, chuckling.
He sobered then, and said, “Chana, I’m not from your world, as you
may have already heard.”
“I
had,” Chana admitted. “The
tales say you are an Outworlder, Kale.”
“I
am,” Kale said. “And
I’m still . . . getting used to things, here.
And that’s why I wanted to ask your age.”
At her puzzled look, he smiled a little nervously, and said, “In my
world, you’d still be a child.
Still be bound by your parents wishes, and unable to enter service like
this without their permission – if you were allowed even with that
permission.”
“Oh,”
Chana said. “That’s
. . . you were wondering if my parents know I’m here, weren’t you?”
“More
if your parents approve of your choice, really,” Kale admitted.
“I suspect that they know.
I can’t imagine a God whose domain includes ‘Honor’ sanctioning you
lying about it.”
“My
parents are not . . . are not in favor of my choice,” Chana said.
“My mother –
my birth mother – is a cleric of Mysarra.
She would have liked me to join her temple, though she has no objection
to my service to Davanek. She
only worries that I may be hurt or killed, in the conflict that approaches.
“My
father is a weaponsmith, attached to the temple.
He holds no title, simply worships Lord Davanek, and serves in his own
way, does not serve in his Temple.
“And
my other mother . . . she is a seamstress, and owns her own shop.
She would have seen me take up a trade, but understands that I am called.
It frightens her, I believe, that I worship in a Temple where I may be
called to battle . . . but Mama Berys understands, and made no attempt to stand
in my way.”
“Whoa,
hang on,” Kale said, trying to follow that.
“Your ‘other mother’ – your father married twice?”
“No,
not that,” Chana said. “Father
is not married at all. Mama
Berys is my birth mother’s wife.”
Kale
stared, his jaw hanging open, for long enough that Chana began to look worried.
“Are
you well, Kale?” she asked, after a long silence.
“I could fetch a more experienced cleric, with spells for curing
illness –”
“No,”
Kale said, recovering some of his wits.
“No, Chana, I’m not ill, just – your mother married a woman?”
“Yes,
she did,” Chana said, seeming puzzled by his shock.
“Of course, Mama Aeven switched from the Pleasure Rooms after her
marriage, and serves in the Story Rooms, now.
Mama Berys never asked her to – after all, the Pleasure Rooms are where
she and Mama met – and would not have, but Mysarra told Mama Aeven that it
would make Mama Berys happy, and of course Mama Aeven loved her, and wanted to
make her happy, so she switched.
And why do you look so surprised by this, Kale?”
“Well,
I just keep getting pleasant surprises, here,” Kale said, wanting to make sure
the girl knew he wasn’t upset.
“You see, on my world – well, I don’t think same-sex
marriages were legal anywhere in the world, and I know they weren’t in my
country.”
Chana
stared in shock, then shook her head.
“The gods of your world – they didn’t let people of the same sex
fall in love?”
“No,
that wasn’t it,” Kale said.
“It’s just that . . . the various governments, and all the big
religions – they forbade same sex marriages.”
“But
– but – why did people follow Gods and rulers like that?” Chana sputtered.
“How could they just – you can’t tell someone who they can love!
That’s against all the tenets of all the Bright Gods!”
“Yeah,”
Kale said, thinking of his sister, who lived in near-terror of the day her
mother found out she was lesbian.
The screaming battle that was sure to follow was being put off as long as
possible, with their Father’s help – but someday, their mother would find
out that Darcy was gay.
“Yeah, I used to wonder about that myself, really.
I like women, but . . . well, my sister does, too, and it upset her –
and me – that she couldn’t marry the girl she’s in love with.”
“Davanek’s
beard!” Chana said. “They
would tell me that my mothers could not be married.
And that I couldn’t love Mevia!”
At Kale’s questioning look, Chana pointed at a tall, willowy girl who
was standing near the Temple doors, listening intently to a warrior who spoke to
her with his eyes on the ground, obviously upset.
“That’s Mevia. She’s
a couple of years older than me, but she joined the temple only days before I
did. She’s quicker
with the study of magic than I, but . . . I’m better with weapons.
High Priest Palkor says that, should we remain lovers, and marry someday,
our strengths will compliment each other well.”
“I
like it,” Kale said, grinning.
“Damned if I’m not starting to seriously like the way the Gods run
things, around here.
“Chana
– thank you, very much. You’ve
shown me something new, and something that I like – a lot.
But, right now, I think I’m going to go and look around the Temple of
Arteneh. I’ll
probably be back for the afternoon services, though.
Perhaps I’ll see you then.”
“I
hope so, Kale Sword-breaker,” Chana said, walking him to the door.
“I like that you were offended by the way things were on your world.
And I hope that you see fit to worship the Lord of Honor with us,
someday.”
“Me,
too,” Kale said, bowing and walking away.
He nodded and smiled at Chana’s girlfriend, on his way out, and walked
towards the Temple of Arteneh, talking to himself.
“Yeah,
I hope I can find it in me to worship . . . one of the Bright Ones – if only
so I can ask them to bring Darcy and her girlfriend here.
“Damn,
I like this place!”