Brian Anderson - The Sword of Truth

“That sounds tough,” said Gewey. “Why do they do it?”

“To prove their faith,” he replied. “Why else?”

A few minutes later Millet returned.

“How did she react?” asked Lee.

“Well enough, my lord, but I should have told her before we arrived. She did agree that it was the best way to stay unnoticed, but she wasn’t happy about the three hours a day of meditation. Especially when I told her it must be done in full view of the world rather than in the privacy of her room.”

Lee grinned mischievously. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “Showing a bit of humility is good for the soul.”

“Indeed, my lord,” said Millet. “Perhaps we could all do with some.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Gewey. “Why is it Millet pretends to be our leader in public?”

Lee threw his head back, laughing loudly. “Because I am quite possibly the worst actor in the world,” he said. “Millet is much better at playing a role than I am, so we decided long ago that in cases like this, it’s best to let him take the lead.”

“You had no trouble pretending to be a lord from the north who wanted to live out his days in the country,” Gewey noted.

“First of all,” Lee replied, “I am a lord from the north, even though I wasn’t born one. Secondly, I was raised in a small village and understood quite well how to behave. Third, I intended to be as inconspicuous as possible when I moved there, and you’ve seen how well that worked out. I was a topic of conversation more often than the weather.”

“You did have a habit of causing tongues to wag,” said Gewey, smiling.

“My point exactly,” said Lee. “When it comes to blending in, Millet is the better man.”

Just then, a young lady in brown novice robes brought them water and clean robes.

“I’m Celandine,” she said. “Her Holiness asked me to tell you that supper will be ready in one hour. I will return then to escort you to her.”

“Can I ask you a question?” said Millet.

“Certainly,” she replied.

“How many people are at the temple? Counting you, I’ve only seen three.”

“Then you’ve seen us all,” Celandine stated.

Millet looked shocked. “Where did the others go?”

“That is a question best asked of Her Holiness,” she answered.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Only three people in the whole temple,” Gewey said, once Celandine had left. “How is that possible?”

“Definitely a question I’ll be asking ‘Her Holiness’,” said Millet.

The three washed and dressed, and an hour later Celandine came to escort them to dinner. They were led back out into the main part of the temple and up the spiral stairs. The upper level halls were well decorated with art and sculptures, and the floor was covered with fine, hand-woven carpets. They walked to the end of a wide hall, where they stopped at a large polished oak door with gold inlay.

“You will be dining in Her Holiness’ private apartment,” said Celandine as she knocked gently on the door. After a moment, Maybell opened the door from within and gestured for them to enter.

The first room of the apartment was lavish beyond anything Gewey had ever seen. The walls were covered in beautiful tapestries, and gold lanterns hung from the ceiling. Glass cases displaying gold figurines lined the doorway leading to the next room, and a small marble statue of Ayliazarah stood in each corner. In the center of the room was a large rectangular table covered by a white silk tablecloth.

A large cushioned chair was at the head of the table and two smaller chairs were placed on either side.

“Please sit,” Maybell instructed. “Her Holiness will be here shortly.”

They took their seats as Celandine left the room. A moment later, a young boy entered carrying a platter filled with cups of wine. He placed a cup in front of each of them and one in front of each of the empty chairs.

Millet noticed Maybell had moved off into the corner and was surveying the group. “Will you be joining us?” he asked.

“She will,” said High Priestess Salmitaya as she entered from the next room.

The High Priestess took her cup and raised it high. “Let us drink to Ayliazarah, Goddess of Love and Fertility. May she cast down her blessing and lift the shadow that has descended on our poor city.”

Everyone lifted their cups and drank deeply. The wine was sweet and of excellent vintage.

“Tell me, Your Holiness,” said Millet. “Is it true there are only three of you?”

Salmitaya sighed heavily. “I fear it is so. This temple once housed over one hundred of the faithful, but those days are long gone.”

“How could such a thing happen?” asked Millet.

“We were a victim of our own arrogance and shortsightedness,” she explained. “My predecessors involved themselves in political maneuvering and were constantly at odds with the governors and local lords. They became more interested in their own ambitions than in the welfare of the temple. In time, they created some very powerful enemies.

“By the time I became High Priestess, there was open hostility between the temple and the government. I tried to repair relations, but sadly, my skills as a politician leave much to be desired.”

“Couldn’t the other temples help?” Millet asked. “Surely they wouldn’t want to see a temple fail.”

Salmitaya smiled sadly. “The other temples were as bad-if not worse-than this one. The whole city became a battleground of government versus religion. As you can see, religion lost.”

“How could they hope to shut down a temple?” said Millet.

“Didn’t the people of the city protest?”

“Why would they?” said Salmitaya. “Governor Mattlin passed laws denying the temples the ability to do good works within the city. They fed and clothed the people as we watched and could

do nothing, and when we protested we were threatened. Without good works to show, faith in the Temple quickly diminished.”

“Why not go to the King?” asked Millet. “Surely he could help.”

“King Grayling III is nothing more than a puppet,” she replied.

“He does the bidding of our enemies.”

“That still doesn’t explain why there are only three of you,” Lee interjected.

“Good,” she said, laughing gently. “I was afraid the rest of you lacked the ability to speak.”

“Forgive me, your Holiness,” Lee said in his best rural accent.

“Me and my young friend are not accustomed to such distinguished company. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“Not at all,” she said. “In fact, I insist that you feel free to speak your mind. To address what you said, we are all that is left after a long campaign by the governor to shut us down. Most of our novices, monks, and priestesses were from here in Kaltinor. The magistrate began to persecute anyone related to a member of any temple within the city walls. Those that didn’t leave out of fear for their loved ones were threatened with imprisonment. The few we had that came here from abroad eventually left to join other temples and missions. Only my remaining influence with the Council of Noble’s has prevented our complete demise.”

“What about temples in other cities?” asked Gewey. “Couldn’t they help?”

“I wish they could, child,” she said, her eyes fixed on Gewey. “But the world has become a dark place. What little resources they have they can’t spare. No…I’m afraid we’re on our own.”

“There’s an encampment not far to the east,” said Millet. “A man named Brother Salvo runs it. He is good and kind. Perhaps he could help.”

The High Priestess suddenly burst with laughter. “I know Brother Salvo,” she said. “It is I, along with what’s left of the other temples, that bribes the governor into helping him maintain his camp. He thinks we do nothing and accuses us of turning people out. What he doesn’t understand is that at this point, even if we were left alone, we are nearly bankrupt. The King has taxed our coffers dry at the bidding of the lords. You saw for yourself what it takes for a pilgrim to enter the city. I could help a few get in, but we don’t have the means to feed or house them for more than a few weeks.”