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rainbowfic2016-03-06 11:14 pm
shadowsong26) wrote in rainbowfic2016-03-06 11:14 pm
Fluorite #15, Oliphaunt Grey #13, Plant Party #2
Name: shadowsong26
Story: The Council
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Fluorite #15. Faith/Evidence, Oliphaunt Grey #13. Seven stars and seven stones, Plant Party #2. Protea Pinwheel
Supplies and Materials: novelty beads (Like most wildly ambitious people, I am driven almost exclusively by fear of failure. - Scott Turow), yarn, beading wire, glue ("You're guardedly optimistic about your future, even if you know there's still a lot of hard work in front of you. However, your unexpressed concerns could remain invisible to everyone else...Nevertheless, don't speak too soon; save your meaningful self-disclosure until you've chosen your path.")
Word Count: 3572
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jemairin, Fahletya, Kahleny, the rest of the Church Council
Warnings: Church politics, disucssion of religious dogma/extremism and espionage.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Dear Sir,
My thanks, again, for allowing me this trip. I know I have always been quieter than you like, but I'm so grateful you're giving me this chance to know the world and myself before I choose my order. I'm heading north now, so my reports may be infrequent. But there are such amazing rumors of what may be found up there in the ice...
High Priest Jemairin slid his youngest son's report up his sleeve. The rest of the Council would be in soon, and while surely no one would question him having a letter from his son on hand--and the boy had been circumspect in his wording--the less attention he drew to Neiali, the better.
The boy was only seventeen, a year past coming of age, and he was on a difficult, dangerous mission that had to remain clandestine. If anyone else learned Jemairin thought Idan of Elanhe was alive, much less knew his reason for it...
Neiali's mission was dangerous enough as it was. The last thing it needed was complications. Let alone competition.
Ahnrel and Sefalin had reported in, too. Things in Nandere and Elanhe at least seemed to be holding steady for the moment. But Jemairin had been around long enough to know not to trust those early reports. He had never met Larien, but he vaguely rememberd Malue from when he'd visited the Holy City as an eleven-year-old boy. He'd been serious and determined even then, and a born leader besides. Jemairin was positive the young king was just biding his time.
And if he knew anything about the cunning culture of Elanhe, he could be sure that Larien was simply waiting for Malue to make his move.
But he couldn't do anything about that now. His boys were acting for him. All he could do was wait for their reports.
The ordinary business of the Church, however, remained, and the rest of the leadership was trickling in for today's session--fourteen high-ranked priests and priestesses, two for each Pillar, just as there was a god and a goddess for each. Of course, the priestess didn't always speak for the goddess, and the priest not always for the god, but there was always one of each
Each of his sons had chosen a different Pillar, and neither had followed him to a fire temple. Neiali, Jemairin was sure, would choose yet another. Water, perhaps. He was as calm and patient as Sefalin was subtle, as Ahnrel was solid.
Each pair of orders had their own way of deciding who to send to the Council. The fire orders, for example--Jemairin had served the fire goddess before his elevation--drew lots among the orders' leadership every two months. They alternated which order--god or goddess--selected first, and then removed all the names of the same gender as that first choice from the second order's pool. This element of randomness, in theory, kept the fire representation on the Council as dynamic as their Pillar itself.
Of course, in practice, priests and priestesses were only human, no matter how devout. And it seemed to Jemairin that the higher ranked the priest, the less devout he was. Corruption was rife in the selection for the fire Council seats. Priests and priestesses bought and sold their places in the lottery. Jemairin himself had served on the Council for a full decade by a carefully orchestrated combination of bribery and blackmail.
He, of course, had no way of knowing the selection processes the other Pillars used--the orders jealously guarded those secrets from each other--but he would be genuinely shocked to learn that they were any more honest than his own.
The first Councilors to join him were from the air Pillar. The priestess, Kefarye, had been serving on the Council for at least as long as Jemairin himself had. She was a tall, spare woman with night-dark skin and close-cropped silver curls. Her coat--in the deep, warm yellow of the god's order--was loose and billowy, with wide sleeves that displayed densely embroidered badges of rank in bright, primary colors. Her leggings were also wide and loose, and an unadorned sky blue.
The priest who followed her, Genahre, was new to the Council, and young for his rank. He had pale blond hair, so pale it was almost white. It fell, straight and shining, to his shoulders. His coat, as loose and flowing as Kefarye's, was the bright lemon yellow of the goddess's order, and delicately embroidered with his rank in soft blues and whites. His leggings, too, were white, with blue scrollwork embroidered up and down the sides.
After Kefarye and Genahre came Mendelryi, the priestess representing the moon goddess. Her coat was misty grey, just a few shades up from white, and fit close to the upper half of her body and then flared out slightly. Her rank badges were concentrated on that flaring part, spiralling up in black and silver from her hem. She was a diminutive woman, and deceptively nonthreatening, with green eyes and soft red curls just starting to go grey pinned away from her face.
Mendelryi was accompanied not by the moon priest, but by Fahletya, the priestess of the sun god. She was, in Jemairin's eyes, perfectly beautiful. She had caramel-colored hair, which fell in thick waves past her waist when loose but was now caught in a golden net. Her coat, burnt orange for her god, was wide and stiff, with rank embroidery in stark black and white. Her leggings, rich black, clung to the shape of her legs until they disappeared up under her coat.
She was Neiali's mother, and had been one of Jemairin's dearest friends for years, both before and after their son's birth. They had become lovers a year after Telahnyi, who was Sefalin and Ahnrel's mother, had died. Letya had broken off the romantic side of things when Neiali was three and Jemairin had made a stupid, idle comment about how he wished they could marry--the Church made no demands on the sex lives of priests and priestesses, nor did it forbid the production of children (obviously, or he himself and many others would be in a great deal of trouble), but forbade any kind of formal arrangement. Priests and priestesses were supposed to be bound to their Pillars and their deities and their orders, not to a spouse or long-term lover.
She had been right to do it, he knew now, though at the time he'd been extremely upset.
Letya flashed him a brief smile as she made her way over to her seat. He smiled back, warm and friendly.
After Letya came the water priest and priestess. Small and dark, they were alike as twins, though the priest of the water god, Ajrahli, was a full two years older than his sister, Rehajlye, who served the goddess. Their coats--royal blue for Ajrahli and sky blue for Rehajlye--fit close in the torso, with flowing, near-sheer sleeves and an extra-long, narrow lower half in a fluid material he could never get them to name. Their rank embroideries, done in gentle greens and whites, were concentrated on their narrow torsos. They wore matching leggings, close to the knee and then gently flaring out, in a pale green.
Hard on their heels came Mendelryi's Pillar-brother, Enahten. Jemairin didn't know him very well, but he'd so far been impressed by the man's quiet dedication. He was a rare bird in high ecclesiastical office--a genuinely pious man. His coat, pearl grey and close to his body and barely flared, as his order required, was not as heavily embroidered as his Pillar-sister's, but still quite respectable. He was grey-haired and grey-eyed, neither tall nor short, with a largely forgettable, ordinary-looking face.
The fire and earth priests came in next. Both served their gods--Lufahn, the fire priest, wore the wide, burgundy coat of his order with his rank-embroidery in golds and browns all up and down his sleeves. He was tall and broad, with warm, bronze skin and dark hair and eyes. With his sumptuous coat and gold leggings, he cut quite an impressive figure.
Mihnari, beside him, was nearly as tall but nowhere near as impressive. His forest-green coat and dull brown leggings seemed practically to hang off him, rather than adorn him. He had had his ranks embroidered in browns and whites. He was very thin, nearly bald, and had long, bony fingers and a mouth that was just a little too wide for his face. This, together with his close-set, too-pale eyes, made him not at all pleasant to look at.
He and Lufahn were lovers, and had been since their dedications decades ago. Quite the scandal, for that faction of "traditionalists," as they called themselves, who were little better than anarchists. Priestly paramours were not supposed to remain so closely attached.
Speaking of "traditionalists"--bah, Jemairin hated granting the sect the dignity of that word, when true traditionalists, like Fahletya, were around--the new earth priestess, severe in her voluminous grass-green goddess coat, stepped into the room. She shot a brief glare at her Pillar-brother and sat as far from him on the green portion of the dais as she could get. She had a narrow, pinched face, sharp black eyes, and a dark braid of indeterminate length pinned close to her head. Her name was Kahleny, and nobody on the Council, to Jemairin's knowledge, liked her.
Still, he supposed, perhaps it was better to have at least one representative of that faction--some of whom thought monarchy was sacrilege, for the gods' sakes--on the Council. At least that way, he and the other reasonable leaders of the Church could keep an eye on them. Keep abreast of their plans, keep them from spiralling out of control.
The sun goddess's priest, following in about two minutes after Kahleny, was another Councillor Jemairin didn't know well. He was nearly as dark as Kefarye, with his dark hair in long ropes bound back with a simple gold clasp. He wore a light, clear-orange coat, as wide and stiff-looking as Letya's, and leggings the same color as hers. There were rumors--baseless ones, the High Priest was sure--that he was a heretic, a secret monotheist. But Ahfrie was always impeccably correct, in practice and in doctrine. So much so, in fact, that it was very difficult to glean any personal information about the man at all.
Half a pace behind Ahfrie came the representatives of the last Pillar, spirit. Geminry, the priestess of the spirit god, led the way. Her coat was a rich, saturated purple, with a narrow base and wide sleeves. The rank embroidery, omnipresent, was difficult to pick out, at least for a man Jemairin's age. The threads were dyed the same color as the coat itself. She had golden-blonde hair, braided simply in two long plaits, and soft brown eyes that gave nothing away.
Fenrahli was much older than his Pillar-sister, and his lavender coat bore the same distinctive same-color embroidery. His silver hair was cut short, and he was the only priest on the Council who wore a beard.
The spirit Councilors were the hardest to read for any High Priest or Priestess, and Jemairin was no exception. Even less was known to outsiders of what went on in their temples, in their orders, than any other. They rarely spoke in Council, and their votes were impossible to predict.
Jemairin sighed and shifted the hem of his own coat idly. Alone among the priesthood, his coat was colorless, showing that he had left his Pillar behind to stand among all of them, and speak to all the deities. Only the hem of his coat was dyed--narrow, horizontal stripes in all seven colors, in all fourteen shades. The badges of his rank--native as well as those that came by default with his consecration as High Priest--were in stark black, and the coat itself, since he came from a goddess order, was pure white. A High Priest or Priestess coming from a god order would be the opposite--a black coat with white rank stitching.
Last to join them, and just a hair shy of being late for the Council, was Nitahnyi, the priestess of the fire goddess. She had coal-black eyes and abundant auburn hair with a few faint silver threads, and her cardinal-red coat swirled around her as she strode to her seat, greeted by Lufahn with warm affection. She was a favorite protege of Jemairin's, from before he'd left his order and ascended, and he, too, favored her with a brief smile, before turning, with all seriousness, to the assembly before him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "let us pray."
As one, the assembled leaders of the Church rose from their seats and bowed their heads.
"Pillars of the World," he invoked, "we the elect seek Your guidance and wisdom, Your clarity and purpose, that we, the elect, may lead Your Church in accordance with Your will. We ask Your blessings on these proceedings, and live in hope of Your eternal favor. So may it be."
"So may it be," the others echoed, then returnd to their seats.
Jemairin waited for the general flutter of movement as everyone resettled themselves to dissipate, then spoke again. "Let's start with new business. Does anyone have any problems they'd like to raise?"
"It's not a new concern, Father, and I'm sorry for bringing it up now, but I think we need to focus on it," Mendelryi said. "Dedicate numbers continue to drop. My order reports less than a dozen in the last six months, and all of those were bred to it. The Church can't risk growing stagnant, we all know this."
"And we all know the reason why," the earth priestess muttered.
Mendelryi sighed. "Yes, Kahleny, we know your feelings on the subject."
"You know I'm right," she snapped. "We are supposed to be an example to the world. As we allow ourselves to grow more secular, how are we supposed to expect those with true vocations to trust us with them? It's why splinter groups are on the rise. Monotheism is growing stronger and stronger in--"
"I think you overstate the case," Mihnari said mildly. "There are always monotheistic splinter groups, but none are so strong now that we need to take action."
"So you say."
He arched an eyebrow. "You can say what you will, sister."
"All of you," Jemairin interrupted, before they could devolve into a barrage of personal attacks, "make excellent points. Kahleny, can I trust you to track down these monotheistic sects? Perhaps there are some in your order who can keep a closer eye on them."
"You mean spies."
He shrugged one shoulder. "We need more information before we can act, do we not? The last time a heresy was a serious threat to stability was centuries ago. Before I authorize any violence, I want proof that it's gone that far."
Kahleny looked torn between mollified and suspicious, but nodded. "Yes, Holy Father. I will see to it."
"Excellent. Shall we move on?"
The fifteen of them went through several more rounds of business--Lufahn brought up a budgetary crisis in repairs to the fire sector of the Holy City, which involved quite a bit of juggling, as the tithes they expected weren't coming in for another two months. There was the usual day to day business, reports on the revisions and updates to some of the universal liturgy, and, of course, he advised them of progress on the balance between Nandere and Elanhe. They ended the meeting by drawing lots to choose a trio to sit on the highest ecclesiastical court this month--Fenrahli, Ahfrie, and Kefarye were selected. Jemairin led them in a concluding prayer, and then dismissed them all.
"I think we made progress today."
He blinked, and smiled at Fahletya. "Some, yes. How do you think things will stand with Kahleny?"
She shrugged fluidly. "I think she'll exaggerate, as she does."
"Ah, of course." He shook his head. "Well, I think I can weed out the actual truth of the matter once I have her reports."
"You should have other orders send in spies as well," Letya suggested. "Confirm her reports, get a more balanced reading. That's why the world is on seven Pillars, not one, isn't it?"
"True," he said. "I'll bring it up at the next meeting." Doing so with enough delicacy so as not to unduly upset her will not be easy. Of course, the alternative was an explosion in the Council not unlike the one he'd touched off. "Hopefully at least she'll be willing to work with Mihnari a little more when she has a legitimate target for her bile."
"Somehow, I doubt it," she said wryly.
"Ah, one can hope."
"Yes." She paused a moment. "Have you heard from Neiali?"
"I have," he said, feeling the weight of the letter in his sleeve. Letya, of course, had no knowledge of their son's true mission. He trusted his former lover, he did--she may disagree with him politically on some issues, but this would be one she would support. And she loved their son; even if she did disagree, she wouldn't risk the boy's safety when presented with it as a fait accompli. Not by sending agents of her own. "He says he's enjoying exploring the world, getting to know himself before he finally chooses an order."
There was, he supposed, an outside chance Neiali would refuse to join the priesthood, choose a secular life instead, but Jemairin thought that unlikely. Very few children of priests left the Church--it was all they had known, and they had no rank and little family outside it.
Mendelryi was right, though, in that the Church had to come from more than just the old bloodlines. It used to be that noble families would send younger sons and daughters as a sign of their devotion. True, the reasoning for that was as much economic as piety--dedicating a priest in the family was cheaper than paying for a wedding--but even that had dropped off in recent years.
The world was growing more secular, and Kahleny, much as he hated to admit it, might be right in that the stable corruption in the upper ranks of the Church was partly to blame.
Not that Jemairin was any kind of reformer, of course. The system worked as it stood. A major overhaul in policy would, at this point, do more harm than good.
Letya nodded. "I wish you had given me a chance to speak with our child before the matter was settled."
He sighed. "I know. That was unfair of us. But he wanted to leave at the same time as his brothers, and I needed them in place as soon as possible."
She held up a hand. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Jem. I know you've done the best you could. I chose to let you keep Neiali for a reason. I just...I worry."
"He's doing well. Or, at any rate, there were no indications of distress in his letter, not that I could see. He's heading north, he said. Something about exploring the secrets buried in the ice."
"I'd like to see his letter, if I may."
And here they were on dangerous ground. Because he couldn't refuse--if Neiali's trip was all it seemed, then he would have had no reason to. But because it wasn't...
The boy was discreet. Jemairin was sure of it. There was no chance Letya would pick up anything of his mission from the text of his letter.
Unless, of course, she had her own suspicions and knew more than she should.
"Of course," he said, smiling. "I'll send it over tonight. It's in my study."
She nodded, and smiled back. "Thank you, Holy Father," she said, then glanced up at the ceiling. "I should return to my temple. I just wanted...well. I'll see you in three days."
At the next Council meeting. "If not sooner," he added--they had a few other projects they were working on, as he had with most Council members who he felt were in his political camp with reasonable certainty.
"If not sooner," she agreed, then inclined her head and left the hall, the stiff hem of her coat turning with her as she moved.
Jemairin sighed, and, when he was sure she was gone, pulled the letter out of his sleeve again, and read it over once more, just to be sure.
Yes, it should be safe. Letya was a very bright woman, but unless she had a frame of reference she shouldn't...
Though the question was, when he thought about it, why Neiali hadn't written his mother as well. True, she had left the boy in his custody when she'd broken off their relationship--he had two sons already, and his household was designed around parenting to a certain extent; hers was not. But she and Neiali had remained close. That mother-child relationship, in fact, had been a large part of how Jemairin had gotten over his bruised pride over the way things with Letya had ended.
When he responded to Neiali, he would ask, he decided. Delicately, of course--he didn't want to overburden the boy with instructions. Finding Idan had to be his primary focus.
He slid the letter back in his sleeve and headed for his own quarters. The Council meeting might be over, but it was barely midday. His own workday was just getting started.
Story: The Council
'Verse: Untitled Intrigues Story
Colors: Fluorite #15. Faith/Evidence, Oliphaunt Grey #13. Seven stars and seven stones, Plant Party #2. Protea Pinwheel
Supplies and Materials: novelty beads (Like most wildly ambitious people, I am driven almost exclusively by fear of failure. - Scott Turow), yarn, beading wire, glue ("You're guardedly optimistic about your future, even if you know there's still a lot of hard work in front of you. However, your unexpressed concerns could remain invisible to everyone else...Nevertheless, don't speak too soon; save your meaningful self-disclosure until you've chosen your path.")
Word Count: 3572
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jemairin, Fahletya, Kahleny, the rest of the Church Council
Warnings: Church politics, disucssion of religious dogma/extremism and espionage.
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always.
Dear Sir,
My thanks, again, for allowing me this trip. I know I have always been quieter than you like, but I'm so grateful you're giving me this chance to know the world and myself before I choose my order. I'm heading north now, so my reports may be infrequent. But there are such amazing rumors of what may be found up there in the ice...
High Priest Jemairin slid his youngest son's report up his sleeve. The rest of the Council would be in soon, and while surely no one would question him having a letter from his son on hand--and the boy had been circumspect in his wording--the less attention he drew to Neiali, the better.
The boy was only seventeen, a year past coming of age, and he was on a difficult, dangerous mission that had to remain clandestine. If anyone else learned Jemairin thought Idan of Elanhe was alive, much less knew his reason for it...
Neiali's mission was dangerous enough as it was. The last thing it needed was complications. Let alone competition.
Ahnrel and Sefalin had reported in, too. Things in Nandere and Elanhe at least seemed to be holding steady for the moment. But Jemairin had been around long enough to know not to trust those early reports. He had never met Larien, but he vaguely rememberd Malue from when he'd visited the Holy City as an eleven-year-old boy. He'd been serious and determined even then, and a born leader besides. Jemairin was positive the young king was just biding his time.
And if he knew anything about the cunning culture of Elanhe, he could be sure that Larien was simply waiting for Malue to make his move.
But he couldn't do anything about that now. His boys were acting for him. All he could do was wait for their reports.
The ordinary business of the Church, however, remained, and the rest of the leadership was trickling in for today's session--fourteen high-ranked priests and priestesses, two for each Pillar, just as there was a god and a goddess for each. Of course, the priestess didn't always speak for the goddess, and the priest not always for the god, but there was always one of each
Each of his sons had chosen a different Pillar, and neither had followed him to a fire temple. Neiali, Jemairin was sure, would choose yet another. Water, perhaps. He was as calm and patient as Sefalin was subtle, as Ahnrel was solid.
Each pair of orders had their own way of deciding who to send to the Council. The fire orders, for example--Jemairin had served the fire goddess before his elevation--drew lots among the orders' leadership every two months. They alternated which order--god or goddess--selected first, and then removed all the names of the same gender as that first choice from the second order's pool. This element of randomness, in theory, kept the fire representation on the Council as dynamic as their Pillar itself.
Of course, in practice, priests and priestesses were only human, no matter how devout. And it seemed to Jemairin that the higher ranked the priest, the less devout he was. Corruption was rife in the selection for the fire Council seats. Priests and priestesses bought and sold their places in the lottery. Jemairin himself had served on the Council for a full decade by a carefully orchestrated combination of bribery and blackmail.
He, of course, had no way of knowing the selection processes the other Pillars used--the orders jealously guarded those secrets from each other--but he would be genuinely shocked to learn that they were any more honest than his own.
The first Councilors to join him were from the air Pillar. The priestess, Kefarye, had been serving on the Council for at least as long as Jemairin himself had. She was a tall, spare woman with night-dark skin and close-cropped silver curls. Her coat--in the deep, warm yellow of the god's order--was loose and billowy, with wide sleeves that displayed densely embroidered badges of rank in bright, primary colors. Her leggings were also wide and loose, and an unadorned sky blue.
The priest who followed her, Genahre, was new to the Council, and young for his rank. He had pale blond hair, so pale it was almost white. It fell, straight and shining, to his shoulders. His coat, as loose and flowing as Kefarye's, was the bright lemon yellow of the goddess's order, and delicately embroidered with his rank in soft blues and whites. His leggings, too, were white, with blue scrollwork embroidered up and down the sides.
After Kefarye and Genahre came Mendelryi, the priestess representing the moon goddess. Her coat was misty grey, just a few shades up from white, and fit close to the upper half of her body and then flared out slightly. Her rank badges were concentrated on that flaring part, spiralling up in black and silver from her hem. She was a diminutive woman, and deceptively nonthreatening, with green eyes and soft red curls just starting to go grey pinned away from her face.
Mendelryi was accompanied not by the moon priest, but by Fahletya, the priestess of the sun god. She was, in Jemairin's eyes, perfectly beautiful. She had caramel-colored hair, which fell in thick waves past her waist when loose but was now caught in a golden net. Her coat, burnt orange for her god, was wide and stiff, with rank embroidery in stark black and white. Her leggings, rich black, clung to the shape of her legs until they disappeared up under her coat.
She was Neiali's mother, and had been one of Jemairin's dearest friends for years, both before and after their son's birth. They had become lovers a year after Telahnyi, who was Sefalin and Ahnrel's mother, had died. Letya had broken off the romantic side of things when Neiali was three and Jemairin had made a stupid, idle comment about how he wished they could marry--the Church made no demands on the sex lives of priests and priestesses, nor did it forbid the production of children (obviously, or he himself and many others would be in a great deal of trouble), but forbade any kind of formal arrangement. Priests and priestesses were supposed to be bound to their Pillars and their deities and their orders, not to a spouse or long-term lover.
She had been right to do it, he knew now, though at the time he'd been extremely upset.
Letya flashed him a brief smile as she made her way over to her seat. He smiled back, warm and friendly.
After Letya came the water priest and priestess. Small and dark, they were alike as twins, though the priest of the water god, Ajrahli, was a full two years older than his sister, Rehajlye, who served the goddess. Their coats--royal blue for Ajrahli and sky blue for Rehajlye--fit close in the torso, with flowing, near-sheer sleeves and an extra-long, narrow lower half in a fluid material he could never get them to name. Their rank embroideries, done in gentle greens and whites, were concentrated on their narrow torsos. They wore matching leggings, close to the knee and then gently flaring out, in a pale green.
Hard on their heels came Mendelryi's Pillar-brother, Enahten. Jemairin didn't know him very well, but he'd so far been impressed by the man's quiet dedication. He was a rare bird in high ecclesiastical office--a genuinely pious man. His coat, pearl grey and close to his body and barely flared, as his order required, was not as heavily embroidered as his Pillar-sister's, but still quite respectable. He was grey-haired and grey-eyed, neither tall nor short, with a largely forgettable, ordinary-looking face.
The fire and earth priests came in next. Both served their gods--Lufahn, the fire priest, wore the wide, burgundy coat of his order with his rank-embroidery in golds and browns all up and down his sleeves. He was tall and broad, with warm, bronze skin and dark hair and eyes. With his sumptuous coat and gold leggings, he cut quite an impressive figure.
Mihnari, beside him, was nearly as tall but nowhere near as impressive. His forest-green coat and dull brown leggings seemed practically to hang off him, rather than adorn him. He had had his ranks embroidered in browns and whites. He was very thin, nearly bald, and had long, bony fingers and a mouth that was just a little too wide for his face. This, together with his close-set, too-pale eyes, made him not at all pleasant to look at.
He and Lufahn were lovers, and had been since their dedications decades ago. Quite the scandal, for that faction of "traditionalists," as they called themselves, who were little better than anarchists. Priestly paramours were not supposed to remain so closely attached.
Speaking of "traditionalists"--bah, Jemairin hated granting the sect the dignity of that word, when true traditionalists, like Fahletya, were around--the new earth priestess, severe in her voluminous grass-green goddess coat, stepped into the room. She shot a brief glare at her Pillar-brother and sat as far from him on the green portion of the dais as she could get. She had a narrow, pinched face, sharp black eyes, and a dark braid of indeterminate length pinned close to her head. Her name was Kahleny, and nobody on the Council, to Jemairin's knowledge, liked her.
Still, he supposed, perhaps it was better to have at least one representative of that faction--some of whom thought monarchy was sacrilege, for the gods' sakes--on the Council. At least that way, he and the other reasonable leaders of the Church could keep an eye on them. Keep abreast of their plans, keep them from spiralling out of control.
The sun goddess's priest, following in about two minutes after Kahleny, was another Councillor Jemairin didn't know well. He was nearly as dark as Kefarye, with his dark hair in long ropes bound back with a simple gold clasp. He wore a light, clear-orange coat, as wide and stiff-looking as Letya's, and leggings the same color as hers. There were rumors--baseless ones, the High Priest was sure--that he was a heretic, a secret monotheist. But Ahfrie was always impeccably correct, in practice and in doctrine. So much so, in fact, that it was very difficult to glean any personal information about the man at all.
Half a pace behind Ahfrie came the representatives of the last Pillar, spirit. Geminry, the priestess of the spirit god, led the way. Her coat was a rich, saturated purple, with a narrow base and wide sleeves. The rank embroidery, omnipresent, was difficult to pick out, at least for a man Jemairin's age. The threads were dyed the same color as the coat itself. She had golden-blonde hair, braided simply in two long plaits, and soft brown eyes that gave nothing away.
Fenrahli was much older than his Pillar-sister, and his lavender coat bore the same distinctive same-color embroidery. His silver hair was cut short, and he was the only priest on the Council who wore a beard.
The spirit Councilors were the hardest to read for any High Priest or Priestess, and Jemairin was no exception. Even less was known to outsiders of what went on in their temples, in their orders, than any other. They rarely spoke in Council, and their votes were impossible to predict.
Jemairin sighed and shifted the hem of his own coat idly. Alone among the priesthood, his coat was colorless, showing that he had left his Pillar behind to stand among all of them, and speak to all the deities. Only the hem of his coat was dyed--narrow, horizontal stripes in all seven colors, in all fourteen shades. The badges of his rank--native as well as those that came by default with his consecration as High Priest--were in stark black, and the coat itself, since he came from a goddess order, was pure white. A High Priest or Priestess coming from a god order would be the opposite--a black coat with white rank stitching.
Last to join them, and just a hair shy of being late for the Council, was Nitahnyi, the priestess of the fire goddess. She had coal-black eyes and abundant auburn hair with a few faint silver threads, and her cardinal-red coat swirled around her as she strode to her seat, greeted by Lufahn with warm affection. She was a favorite protege of Jemairin's, from before he'd left his order and ascended, and he, too, favored her with a brief smile, before turning, with all seriousness, to the assembly before him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "let us pray."
As one, the assembled leaders of the Church rose from their seats and bowed their heads.
"Pillars of the World," he invoked, "we the elect seek Your guidance and wisdom, Your clarity and purpose, that we, the elect, may lead Your Church in accordance with Your will. We ask Your blessings on these proceedings, and live in hope of Your eternal favor. So may it be."
"So may it be," the others echoed, then returnd to their seats.
Jemairin waited for the general flutter of movement as everyone resettled themselves to dissipate, then spoke again. "Let's start with new business. Does anyone have any problems they'd like to raise?"
"It's not a new concern, Father, and I'm sorry for bringing it up now, but I think we need to focus on it," Mendelryi said. "Dedicate numbers continue to drop. My order reports less than a dozen in the last six months, and all of those were bred to it. The Church can't risk growing stagnant, we all know this."
"And we all know the reason why," the earth priestess muttered.
Mendelryi sighed. "Yes, Kahleny, we know your feelings on the subject."
"You know I'm right," she snapped. "We are supposed to be an example to the world. As we allow ourselves to grow more secular, how are we supposed to expect those with true vocations to trust us with them? It's why splinter groups are on the rise. Monotheism is growing stronger and stronger in--"
"I think you overstate the case," Mihnari said mildly. "There are always monotheistic splinter groups, but none are so strong now that we need to take action."
"So you say."
He arched an eyebrow. "You can say what you will, sister."
"All of you," Jemairin interrupted, before they could devolve into a barrage of personal attacks, "make excellent points. Kahleny, can I trust you to track down these monotheistic sects? Perhaps there are some in your order who can keep a closer eye on them."
"You mean spies."
He shrugged one shoulder. "We need more information before we can act, do we not? The last time a heresy was a serious threat to stability was centuries ago. Before I authorize any violence, I want proof that it's gone that far."
Kahleny looked torn between mollified and suspicious, but nodded. "Yes, Holy Father. I will see to it."
"Excellent. Shall we move on?"
The fifteen of them went through several more rounds of business--Lufahn brought up a budgetary crisis in repairs to the fire sector of the Holy City, which involved quite a bit of juggling, as the tithes they expected weren't coming in for another two months. There was the usual day to day business, reports on the revisions and updates to some of the universal liturgy, and, of course, he advised them of progress on the balance between Nandere and Elanhe. They ended the meeting by drawing lots to choose a trio to sit on the highest ecclesiastical court this month--Fenrahli, Ahfrie, and Kefarye were selected. Jemairin led them in a concluding prayer, and then dismissed them all.
"I think we made progress today."
He blinked, and smiled at Fahletya. "Some, yes. How do you think things will stand with Kahleny?"
She shrugged fluidly. "I think she'll exaggerate, as she does."
"Ah, of course." He shook his head. "Well, I think I can weed out the actual truth of the matter once I have her reports."
"You should have other orders send in spies as well," Letya suggested. "Confirm her reports, get a more balanced reading. That's why the world is on seven Pillars, not one, isn't it?"
"True," he said. "I'll bring it up at the next meeting." Doing so with enough delicacy so as not to unduly upset her will not be easy. Of course, the alternative was an explosion in the Council not unlike the one he'd touched off. "Hopefully at least she'll be willing to work with Mihnari a little more when she has a legitimate target for her bile."
"Somehow, I doubt it," she said wryly.
"Ah, one can hope."
"Yes." She paused a moment. "Have you heard from Neiali?"
"I have," he said, feeling the weight of the letter in his sleeve. Letya, of course, had no knowledge of their son's true mission. He trusted his former lover, he did--she may disagree with him politically on some issues, but this would be one she would support. And she loved their son; even if she did disagree, she wouldn't risk the boy's safety when presented with it as a fait accompli. Not by sending agents of her own. "He says he's enjoying exploring the world, getting to know himself before he finally chooses an order."
There was, he supposed, an outside chance Neiali would refuse to join the priesthood, choose a secular life instead, but Jemairin thought that unlikely. Very few children of priests left the Church--it was all they had known, and they had no rank and little family outside it.
Mendelryi was right, though, in that the Church had to come from more than just the old bloodlines. It used to be that noble families would send younger sons and daughters as a sign of their devotion. True, the reasoning for that was as much economic as piety--dedicating a priest in the family was cheaper than paying for a wedding--but even that had dropped off in recent years.
The world was growing more secular, and Kahleny, much as he hated to admit it, might be right in that the stable corruption in the upper ranks of the Church was partly to blame.
Not that Jemairin was any kind of reformer, of course. The system worked as it stood. A major overhaul in policy would, at this point, do more harm than good.
Letya nodded. "I wish you had given me a chance to speak with our child before the matter was settled."
He sighed. "I know. That was unfair of us. But he wanted to leave at the same time as his brothers, and I needed them in place as soon as possible."
She held up a hand. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Jem. I know you've done the best you could. I chose to let you keep Neiali for a reason. I just...I worry."
"He's doing well. Or, at any rate, there were no indications of distress in his letter, not that I could see. He's heading north, he said. Something about exploring the secrets buried in the ice."
"I'd like to see his letter, if I may."
And here they were on dangerous ground. Because he couldn't refuse--if Neiali's trip was all it seemed, then he would have had no reason to. But because it wasn't...
The boy was discreet. Jemairin was sure of it. There was no chance Letya would pick up anything of his mission from the text of his letter.
Unless, of course, she had her own suspicions and knew more than she should.
"Of course," he said, smiling. "I'll send it over tonight. It's in my study."
She nodded, and smiled back. "Thank you, Holy Father," she said, then glanced up at the ceiling. "I should return to my temple. I just wanted...well. I'll see you in three days."
At the next Council meeting. "If not sooner," he added--they had a few other projects they were working on, as he had with most Council members who he felt were in his political camp with reasonable certainty.
"If not sooner," she agreed, then inclined her head and left the hall, the stiff hem of her coat turning with her as she moved.
Jemairin sighed, and, when he was sure she was gone, pulled the letter out of his sleeve again, and read it over once more, just to be sure.
Yes, it should be safe. Letya was a very bright woman, but unless she had a frame of reference she shouldn't...
Though the question was, when he thought about it, why Neiali hadn't written his mother as well. True, she had left the boy in his custody when she'd broken off their relationship--he had two sons already, and his household was designed around parenting to a certain extent; hers was not. But she and Neiali had remained close. That mother-child relationship, in fact, had been a large part of how Jemairin had gotten over his bruised pride over the way things with Letya had ended.
When he responded to Neiali, he would ask, he decided. Delicately, of course--he didn't want to overburden the boy with instructions. Finding Idan had to be his primary focus.
He slid the letter back in his sleeve and headed for his own quarters. The Council meeting might be over, but it was barely midday. His own workday was just getting started.
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I'm rather fond of Letya, too ^^ And it's less of a yarn ball of intrigue and more of a tangle of...like...six different skeins that got tossed haphazardly into a box and no one can find any ends...
Anyway. Much more scheming and intriguing to come!
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It's a little infodumpy, yeah...but I'm glad it serves a purpose, lol.