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Sparkling Desire
3de4c5
I catch Taranis’s eye and tilt my head sideways, toward the guild door. He gets the message that I’d like to go, and politely says goodbye to Aífe. For things like this, I like that Taranis doesn’t need explaining. He understands.
We leave the guild and go to the Church of Eirene. It’s a run-down building that doesn’t have any distinguishing or elaborate fasciae; it’s easy to miss, especially since it’s in an out-of-the-way part of Minga.
I’ve brought my shortsword Samhain. It’s my birthright; I don’t like to leave it behind. I feel odd about bringing it inside, but my book was clear that Eirene is understanding of these kinds of things. As long as I don’t start waving it around like some people I know, I’ll be welcome.
There’s no one inside. The few pews, all empty, are covered in a fine layer of dust. The candles on the walls are burned down to the nubs, unlit and cold. Taranis hops onto my shoulder and nuzzles up to me. For warmth? To reassure me? Regardless, it feels nice.
I take the scene in for a minute. There’s an empty offering receptacle at the end of the pews, a small tray and a tiny open-lidded box for bigger things like clothes, food or other things. I sigh. I don’t know what a human priestess would consider a good offering. My clan doesn’t really do sacrifieces or offerings; we train, fight and die for (theoretically) our gods and goddesses, and they don’t expect anything else. We used to dedicate beautiful songs, poetry and art, but that was almost five hundred years ago, before the war with the humans. We’re not very good at that anymore.
I decide to offer something that would have meant a lot to me, if I was in Priscilla’s position. I leave three days’ worth of living expenses in the offering tray. It’s far from what I could offer after my latest outing with Lady Kensington, but I don’t want to make this awkward for Priscilla.
My gaze settles on the rear door that’s ajar, leading to the garden. There’s nothing for me inside. I could say a prayer I remember from the book a few minutes ago, but it wouldn’t be sincere. There’s no point.
I head outside.
Priscilla, the priestess, is tossing small, reserved amounts of birdseed to a collection of doves. The white-plumed birds are happily pecking at the ground. One of them looks up at Taranis and me, its beady little eyes curious and inviting.
I raise my eyebrow at Taranis. Does he know that bird? I’ve never seen such a trusting wild animal. Well, except for that skunk…
He shakes his head in the negative. These birds don’t look or act like any avians with divine lineage, like Taranis and Aífe. They’re just regular doves.
“Oh! Good morning,” Priscilla looks up at us and smiles. “I’m so happy you decided to visit. I like your new hairstyle.”
I shrug.
“And you, Taranis. This is very humble birdseed,” Priscilla holds out her hand to Taranis, “But what we have, we have to share. Would you like some treats too?”
Taranis declines. I’m sure he would only accept birdseed of the highest caliber: it would take whole peanuts to get him to hop around on the ground like these doves. The thought is kind of funny, but I’m sure it’d never happen, and I’m not inclined to try it.
“Okay, birdies, that’s enough for today,” Priscilla says. She gives one of the doves a soft pat on the head and gets a soft coo in response. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
The birds don’t respond. They’re birds, and there’s still some birdseed left on the ground to eat. I wonder if Priscilla knows how lucky she is that she doesn’t have to deal with divine birds?
“Let’s go inside.” Priscilla leads us back into the Church and offers a seat in the pews. “Would you like someplace more private? I can close the doors if you want.”
“Later,” I say. I take a seat and shuffle uncomfortably. “I’m not good at conversation, so I’m just going to ask you what I need to know.”
Priscilla sits beside me and Taranis. She waits for a moment, expecting me to say something. She nods.
Ugh. I didn’t expect her to actually listen to me. Aren’t priestesses supposed to preach? I don’t have any questions prepared, and the ones that I do have… they make me sound like a bitch. But she isn’t saying anything.
Fine, then.
“If I ask you to contact my… my mom,” I say, not looking at Priscilla, “How do I know if I’m actually speaking to her, and not an impostor that some goddess is using to try and gain more followers?”
“You can ask her things only she would know,” Priscilla says. “If she hasn’t passed on, then you will be able to speak to her as if she was there with you. If she wants, she can manifest an image in a pool of water, or a mirror.”
“Gods and goddesses know a lot,” I press. “I don’t trust the gods to not be listening in on things. Don’t they control fate? They know everything.”
“Not everything,” Priscilla says. “But if you would like true proof that the spirit you’re talking with is actually your mother, then… you have to rely on all your senses. The feeling you have when you were around her as a child. The pull on your soul from the time you spent with her. It’s more difficult for people who haven’t trained spiritually, but it’s there.”
I’m not sure I like that answer. “How do I know if she’s passed on, or if she’s refusing to answer my call because it’s coming from a priestess of peace?”
“That’s a question for the god or goddess your mother worshipped in life,” Priscilla says. “If she passed on, they’ll know. I can ask Eirene, if you’d like.”
This is irritating me. I don’t trust Eirene. I don’t trust any gods or goddesses. I just want to speak to my mom and be sure it’s her, and not some kind of scam.
Is this all a scam?
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