Brian Anderson - The Sword of Truth

“I don’t know, Maybell,” said the woman. “They look a bit scruffy, but I wouldn’t say they’re riff-raff.” Her voice was cheerful and kindly.

“Thank you for allowing us entrance, Your Holiness,” Millet said, bowing low.

The others bowed as well but said nothing. Millet introduced them using the same names he had given Brother Salvo.

“I’m Sister Salmitaya, High Priestess here in Kaltinor,” she said.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“We are but simple pilgrims on our way to the Temple of the FarSky,” Millet replied. “We seek lodging and a short respite from our travels.”

“I tried to make them leave, Your Holiness,” said Maybell. “But they wouldn’t listen.”

“Nonsense,” laughed Salmitaya. “Times may be hard, but if these people managed to gain entry to the city, then who am I to turn them away? How did you get past the gate, by the way?”

“I’m ashamed to say, Your Holiness,” said Millet. “We bribed our way in.”

Salmitaya raised her eyebrows. “Is that so? It’s interesting that mere pilgrims would have money enough for bribes.”

“We have saved for many years to go on this pilgrimage,” answered Millet. “This temple is among those we planned to visit along the way.”

“I wish I had known,” she said. “I could have saved you the cost of a bribe.”

“Some pilgrims send word and money ahead,” said Millet, understanding her meaning. “But I think that takes away from the lesson one is supposed to learn along the way. We have not, however, come empty handed. We intend to make all proper contributions before we depart.”

Salmitaya laughed. “Please, Brother Milton. You don’t need to bother. It’s my pleasure to offer the hospitality of this temple. You may stay as long as you wish.”

“Thank you, Your Holiness,” said Millet, bowing low.

“Thank you , Brother,” she replied, bowing in return. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget that this is a place of worship and contemplation. In these dark times we have been all but driven to beg in the streets.”

“It pains me to hear that,” said Millet. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Sadly, there isn’t,” Salmitaya replied. “Our troubles go deeper than you can guess.” Her eyes became sorrowful. “But this is not a conversation we should have here and now.” She shook off her sadness, and her smile returned. “Maybell will see to your needs. I hope you will join me for supper later.”

“We would be honored,” said Millet. “All but Sister Kaymaya, that is. She has taken the vow of the Sacred Word.”

“Then I will see to it that she is accommodated,” said Salmitaya.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to attend to.” She bowed her head.

Millet and the others bowed low and watched as the High Priestess hummed softly as she walked across the floor to the stairs.

“Do you wish for me to have someone see to your things?” asked Maybell, still glaring suspiciously.

“To the horses and wagon, yes,” answered Millet. “But we’ll see to our things.”

“As you wish,” she said. “I’ll wait here.” The four of them returned to the wagon and gathered their personal gear, leaving the provisions in the wagon. When they walked back inside, Maybell was tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed.

“If you please,” said Maybell sourly. “Follow me.”She led them to the far left corner of the large room where a large tapestry hung. As they approached, they saw that it covered an archway leading to the rear chambers. Maybell pulled back the tapestry and motioned for the group to enter. She then led them through a series of narrow hallways with evenly spaced doors and floors made from polished wood. The walls were made of rough brick and bore no decoration.

“As you can see,” said Maybell, “despite the beauty of the rest of the temple, we live a simple life.”

“I haven’t noticed any other novices or priestesses,” Millet observed. “Are they all praying?”

“There are only a few of us,” answered Maybell. “The rest have left.”

“Why?” Millet asked. “In times like these, you would think this place would be filled with the faithful.”

“It is ,” she said, shooting an angry glance back at Millet. “The faithful are what we have here.”

Millet decided not to pursue the matter further.

“Here we are,” said Maybell, opening one of the doors. “You three will stay here, and you,” she said to Kaylia, “can follow me. We keep a private chamber ready for those who have taken the vow of the Sacred Word.”

Maybell led Kaylia down the hall to a door with a six-inch circle carved in the center. Inside the circle were carved three smaller, interwoven rings.

“This is where you will stay,” Maybell said as she opened the door. “Your vows will be respected while you remain within these walls, and I will have your meals and wash water brought to you.” Kaylia nodded and entered the room.

“I’ll tell your friends how to find you,” Maybell said as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

The room was drab. The plain brick walls were unadorned, and a worn rug covered part of the floor. A bed and a small table were the only furnishings. Kaylia sat cross-legged on the rug and waited.

The room the others shared was just as bare. Bunk beds lined opposite walls, and a table and bench sat at the rear. They had just begun to unpack when there was a knock at the door. Millet opened it to find Maybell, still bearing a sour expression.

“A basin and hot water will be brought for you,” she said curtly.

“Afterwards, you are to make yourself ready for supper with Her Holiness. If you do not have clean robes, they will be provided.”

“Thank you,” said Millet. “Clean robes would be appreciated.”

“If you wish to see your companion, she is down the hall in the room bearing the symbol of the Sacred Word,” said Maybell. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to attend to.” She turned away and marched down the hall.

“I don’t think she likes us very much,” said Millet, closing the door.

“You can say that again,” Gewey agreed. “I didn’t think we were going to make it past the door. Lucky for us, the High Priestess was there.”

Lee looked worried “Yes. Very lucky.”

“I know that look, my lord,” said Millet. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure,” Lee replied. “Something’s not right here.”

“I agree,” said Millet. “The temple shouldn’t be this empty, regardless of how bad the times have become.”

Lee nodded. “It’s not just that. It’s a feeling I got when you were talking to the High Priestess. Something doesn’t fit. From what Brother Salvo told us, I expected a less hospitable welcome.”

“Quite right, my lord,” said Millet. “If there is something amiss, I’ll wager we’ll find out about it soon enough. In the meantime, I’d better check on Kaylia and explain the vow of the Sacred Word.”

Lee smiled with amusement. “She’s going to love it. Don’t you think?”

“That’s not nice, my lord,” scolded Millet. “Besides, it’s the only way I could think of to keep her isolated.”

“You did well, my friend,” said Lee. “Now go explain everything to Kaylia.”

“What is the vow of the Sacred Word?” asked Gewey once Millet had left.

“The vow of the Sacred Word, my young friend, is what only the most faithful swear before their pilgrimage,” Lee explained. “They don’t speak unless spoken to, their eyes must be lowered in submission, and they must keep their heads covered at all times. They eat alone, sleep alone, and must meditate for three hours a day. They maintain chastity and humility throughout their pilgrimage and for one year after. Should they fail, they are required to present themselves to the High Priestess of their temple for penance. This usually means locking themselves in a small room for the remainder of their lives. Most go insane.”