“Oh?” Saleria asked, curious in spite of herself.
“Yes, it seems that, very soon, you won’t be the only person talking directly with our Gods. Well, you and the Arch Priest,” he dismissed. “I heard that the King and Council are working on getting the old Convocation of the Gods resurrected! I have an aunt who works closely with Lady Apista; you know, the Councillor for the Temples? And that it involves finding a special someone who can bridge the concerns of the Katani nation with our Patron Deities directly. The details are all a big secret, of course, but my aunt did say they were working hard on the problem.”
Her first thought was that if it was truly “all a big secret” then Shanno shouldn’t have known about any of it. Her second thought came with the dawning force of comprehension. He has an aunt he talks with about state secrets—therefore a close aunt—who works with the Councillor for the Temples, a high-ranked priestess-politician. That must be why he was promoted to Deacon when he doesn’t exactly inspire thoughts of maturity . . . and no doubt is why he keeps thinking so highly of himself. Of course he would, with nepotism on his side . . .
Bollocks to that, she thought, giving him a polite nod as they parted company at one of the side streets. It’s a good thing he isn’t on any apprenticeship list for the Keeper’s position. I wouldn’t trust him to keep silent on some of the more personal prayer requests, never mind huge secrets.
That was another of the reasons why the Keeper did not intermingle publicly. That way all petitions were kept private, and thus respectful of the requests. It also meant she didn’t have to say no to anyone in person. With written requests, a petitioner never had to face the sting of a rejection. There were certain things which, by the Laws of God and Man, she could not request Kata and Jinga to achieve through prayer. The destruction of other Gods, the decimation of an entire population, the death of a particular person . . . and other, subtler things.
Somehow, I don’t think Shanno would hesitate to push magical power into a prayer for personal wealth and personal gain. Or to force a specific, named person to do something against their free will, such as fall in love with a petitioner. Or worse, with him, using the power of prayer for his personal gain. Though to be fair, he’s not yet ready to settle on any one young lady, from what I’ve seen.
“Look, it’s the Keeper!” someone called out as she passed the entrance to one of the town’s four inns.
“Is that really her? She looks so young.”
“We’re not supposed to follow her—some nonsense or other about custom—but I heard that she . . .”
Saleria moved a little faster, looking neither right nor left. She let her feet carry her out of hearing range of the conversation. Another problem Shanno has caused. He’s too caught up in the prestige of being a priest to grasp that power comes with more obligations and responsibilities than privileges . . . and I am wasting too much of my time thinking about him. Setting thoughts of the young deacon aside, she turned another corner and hurried back toward her home. Her midmorning break would soon be over, and she would have a pile of sorted petitions to pray over.
She reached the main street leading to the Keeper’s House just in time to see Aradin coming from the direction of the market, and paused to await his approach. From the smile lighting up his face, he had been successful in gaining the centrifuge he wanted from the glazier, Remas. She didn’t see it being carried anywhere, but now that she knew about his cloak, it was only a short guess for Saleria to realize where he had put it: into the Dark, where he wouldn’t have to physically carry the awkwardly shaped metal stand or its carefully balanced, hand-blown flasks.
“Hello again, Saleria,” he greeted her when he reached her side. They started walking together, matching strides fairly well without much effort. A couple children darted around them, hollering something about a game of tag. Aradin glanced at her. “Did you get whatever you were looking for?”
Saleria blushed a little. The anklet was hidden inside her boot, but she was aware of the smooth bit of carved stone resting against her skin with each step. She hadn’t worn one in a while, and had just let the previous one expire before finally removing it at roughly the year-and-a-half mark, when such things tended to run out of magic. “Yes. I did. I trust you got what you wanted as well?”
He grinned. “Not everything I’ve wanted recently, but I did get the centrifuge, yes.”
That was exactly the sort of flirting her housekeeper had been upset about. Saleria wasn’t the least bit offended by it. Not when she was enjoying a level of attention she hadn’t known since moving to Groveham. Acolytes were discouraged from forming any sort of long-term relationship, since that could interfere with their rather lengthy studies, but there had been a span of time where she, as first a deacon, then a fully-fledged priestess, had flirted occasionally with her fellow Katani. Even courted a little. But being the Keeper meant losing the time for such things.