Then They were called, summoned by the strong, respectful voice of the incipient queen. “I summon Jinga and Kata, Boisterous God and Beloved Goddess of Katan, Patrons of the Four Seasons of Life!”
The coruscating shades of light streaming through the great arched door between the amphitheater and the Fountain Hall rippled, and They stepped through. The mere sunbeam of Fate quadrupled, filling Saleria’s world. She did not notice Kelly bidding Them to take a seat, nor did she hear the names of the next few Patron Deities. All she could see was dark-skinned Jinga, His full lips parted in a grin that made His brown eyes twinkle, and the serene, closed-lipped smile of the pale, blonde, blue-eyed Kata.
They came clad in the finely embroidered clothes and adult faces of Their summer aspects. Spring was the Lover and the Maiden, the youthful aspects; autumn the Father and Mother of the harvest-time, the providers for Their people. Winter, of course, was reserved for the Crone and the Guide, filled with the wisdom of the elderly. Summer, however, was the time of the Lord and the Lady, sometimes called the strong Warrior and the benevolent Guardian. Saleria was relieved to see Jinga clad in the silks of the Lord, rather than the leathers of the Warrior; had there been any doubt as to whether or not They approved of this incipient kingdom restarting the Convocation, that one key difference was all the proof she needed.
(Of course We come in peace,) she heard a male voice whisper in her mind. Not Teral’s, not Aradin’s, not any voice she had ever heard, but definitely a voice she knew well. (Though I wouldn’t put it that way to yonder queen,) Jinga added, His voice filling her heart with the sound of His mirth. (She’d laugh for reasons far too difficult to explain.)
“Oh, Jinga . . .” The name of her Patron Deities escaped her on a sigh. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she looked upon Them. They had chosen a pair of granite thrones set close together, and clasped Their hands with a fond look for each other. “Oh, Kata.”
(You’ve done very well by Our people all these years, Keeper of the Grove,) she heard her Goddess reply, those bluer-than-blue eyes turning her way. (As you yourself have put it, you were asleep until just this last little while. Awakened by the kiss of awareness. Do not fret over the regrets of the past, and do not worry over the choices of your present. Just be mindful that the path of your future should be constantly double-checked to make sure you are still headed in a rightful direction.)
(Kiss of awareness, My Sacred Ass,) Jinga snorted in Saleria’s mind. Such blunt speech was so very much the way the Katani people imagined Him to speak, it made her want to laugh. He slipped her a wink across the many lengths between her seat and His. (More like a hundred kisses of love. And caresses, and . . .)
(Shhh,) Kata whispered back, sounding both quelling and mirthful at the same time. (This is supposed to be a solemn occasion.)
(A joyous occasion,) Jinga corrected Her.
Listening to Them, Saleria wanted to laugh and cry, sing and shout. These were the God and Goddess she had been raised to believe in. The God and Goddess whose divine touch she had felt while singing one day. The benevolent, joyous Patron Deities of Katan, boisterous and serene, protective and encouraging . . . everything. Everything she had ever believed.
It was a good thing she had all the time it took for Queen Kelly to summon forth the many other Gods and Goddesses of the world. All Saleria could do, all she wanted to do for that first long while, was bask in the glory of her Patrons. It felt like . . . well, it felt like being wrapped up in the snuggliest, cuddliest warm hug of her parents’ arms, and she didn’t want it to end.
Eventually, of course, she had to address the concerns of her people. But for a long while, wrapped in that spiritual embrace, she was able to just be. That, and being connected directly to Their thoughts, she took the time to ask a few questions about the Grove.
So . . . the Grove . . . it’s okay for me to make all the changes I’ve been making? She tried to think the thoughts as clearly as she could.
(Of course. You are the Keeper of the Grove. It is your task to decide how to tend its grounds,) Kata told her.
But all this time, just one Keeper, no support staff . . . ? She couldn’t help her confusion and its plaintive question.
(Prophecy.)
The one-word answer came from Jinga, His tone sober. Most of the time, the Katani people thought of him as the passion-filled, boisterous God, always ready to celebrate life at the drop of an excuse . . . but there were times when He was the stern and serious Warrior, protector of the people. He didn’t say outright, but Saleria got the feeling that there was a definite purpose behind the nonsense all past Keepers had been forced to put up with until now. It was equally clear They were not going to discuss it, however.