The Grove(150)
My Goddess . . . Oh bollocks, I’m naked in front of my Goddess. She started to wince, then opened her eyes in a panic, glancing at the man at her side. Aradin is naked in front of my Goddess!
Laughter filled her head, sounding like perfectly tuned bamboo wind chimes. (Did you not say that We see you even when you’re sick in bed? Don’t be silly, Keeper. I have manifested not to ogle your bodies . . . though he is a nice one, isn’t he?) Kata observed on a smug, feminine aside. ( . . . But rather to let you know what We have done to the Grove. When you return to the Arithmancer, let her know the aether in western Katan will be calm and still by the end of this Convocation.
(For your safety and for Groveham’s sake, My Husband and I have rounded up all the stray mutations, and separated those with components that were too dangerous to keep, yet too dangerous to let loose. The rest . . . They have either been restored to pure specimens, or will have usefulness in the days and years and centuries to come. But what that use is . . . that is your task, the three and four and more of you to come. And you will still have to tidy the paths and catalogue what’s left before you should let people in without an alert escort,) Kata told her. Or rather, told both of them.
Aradin mumbled something, pawed at his face, wiped some of the sleep-sand from the inner corner of one eye, and squinted up at Her. His voice was deeper than usual when he formed coherent words. “Thank you. Your intervention is deeply appreciated, and Teral and I truly appreciate the shortening of our task. But, umm . . . Why is the Bower covered with flowers?”
Kata spoke out loud, lips curved in Her beatific, serene smile. “What, that? Oh, that always happens whenever a Keeper makes love with her or his true love in here. It’s a side effect from when Jinga and I . . .”
“I don’t need to know, honest,” Saleria quickly interjected. Naked and sated from lovemaking and rest, she twisted onto her side and held up her hands. “I’m overwhelmed enough by the mortal version. I don’t need to envy the godly kind.”
Jinga’s boisterous laugh filled the Bower. He came striding into view through the eastern path, one of Saleria’s crystal-topped pruning staves resting on His shoulder. The end of it glowed red, and in its light, every flower within reach grew visibly larger. “No worries, Keeper. When you join with the right person for the right reasons, it is always special. Not necessarily as intense every time, but special.”
He offered His hand to Saleria, who accepted without hesitation. It was warm and strong, like clasping solidified sunlight for all that it seemed to be an ordinary brown hand. There was no fear in her, no worry; she had His approval, and that was all she needed.
The moment she stood, she could feel her body covered in soft fabric. A glance down showed it surpassed her best Keeper’s garb. The tunic and trews were pure white edged with a rainbow of flowers stitched along the edges of the sleeves, hemlines, and neck in appliquéd silk. Her overrobe had long sleeves instead of the sleeveless vest version she was accustomed to wearing, and when she released Jinga’s hand to finger the collar, she discovered the slight weight behind her shoulders was nothing less than a deep hood.
A glance at Aradin showed him being helped to his feet by Kata . . . and a ripple of black that flowed down over his body. It, too, was covered in silk flowers at all the hems. The plain black edges of the neck-to-toe opening did not have flowers, but the cowled hood did. Amusingly enough, the clothes beneath the mostly black cloak echoed hers in cut and flower, save that the main color was also black, where hers was white.
Bemused, she looked at her Patrons. With Their approval of not only her work as Keeper, but of her choices in life, she was not afraid. In fact, she dared to tease the Boisterous God a little. “Does my cloak come with access to the Dark as well? Instant clothing changes and all?”
“No; that would require you being dedicated to Our divine companions, and We will not part with our best Keeper in centuries,” Kata told her. “These robes—yours and his—are for the Keepers of the Grove to wear, not for Witchly needs. Aradin Teral’s has a Witchcloak lining stitched into his, but it will be removed by Us when it is time for both of you to retire.”
“You both will be able to prune or wither, bloom or transport any plant within the Grove with just a thought and a touch while you wear these sacred robes,” Jinga told her. He paused, then shrugged His shoulders. “That, and on any patch of soil you tread, you’ll leave a trail of tiny flowers in your wake. You might find it annoying after a while, so I suggest taking it off when you’re not being official.”