The Grove(39)
A new thought crossed her mind. What would the children think, to find their mother or father suddenly dead, and yet not really dead? What would that do to a culture? Do those whose parents aren’t chosen to be Guides grieve all the harder for not seeing their parents again, even if it’s only secondhand?
She didn’t know. She didn’t even know if these Witches were permitted children. Deep in thought, she navigated between the various townsfolk and visitors as she reached the edge of the market, until a familiar tenor broke through her thoughts.
“Your Holiness! How nice to see you outside the Sacred Grove,” Deacon Shanno called out. “And such good timing, for there are many people here in town to see you.”
Heads turned her way, most of them belonging to visitors. Several of them started toward her, while behind them, she could make out the pale, smirking face of Shanno, his blond hair pulled back into a braid and his brow banded by a polished copper circlet. A bit pretentious of him to wear a circlet when he wasn’t a nobleman, but it was copper, and it was unadorned with either design or gems.
Annoyed, Saleria kept her expression calm and bland. “You know very well that all petitions must be presented in writing, and not in person, Deacon Shanno. I am to be allowed a normal life outside of my duties, which includes the politeness of not being pestered by unending petitions in person. Thus said Holy Kata and Holy Jinga.”
A few hesitated. A few more of the men and women who had come to Groveham to be near the Sacred Grove pressed closer, drawing in breaths and opening their lips to speak. She cut them off, her gaze still on the apprentice priest.
“I am in some ways considered Their closest servant next to the Arch Priest, but even so, I would not go against the will of the Gods,” Saleria added dryly. Expressions fell. She hadn’t meant to disappoint so many, but the deacon riled her with his assumptions and airs. Focusing her words on the men and women before her, she added politely, “Every petition is important, no matter what the request. If a person takes the time to organize their thoughts and put their wishes onto paper, then their request is made all the more clear. Every single letter and scroll is read, I assure you . . . and there are free writing supplies available at the Groveham cathedral, and a box which is cleared twice daily, with all petitions brought to me in an orderly fashion.
“Being a mere mortal, I cannot guarantee what answers They might give,” she added, lifting her palms and her eyes upward to the sky, “but it is my sacred duty to read and pray on your behalf when I am in the Grove. When I am here in the market, however . . . I am merely looking for food.”
Most of the visitors to the town sighed and nodded and turned away; some headed for the cathedral, with its eight walls and high dome. One couple lingered, a pair with the medium brown skins of northern Katan. Holding hands, they approached Saleria. The young woman glanced at her swain, blushed, and gave the Grove Keeper a hopeful look. “Your Holiness . . . could we have your blessing on our impending wedding?”
“And any advice you could give?” her betrothed added. They had good-quality clothes, the sort merchants might wear, and obviously had enough money and time to make the journey here, but they looked young to her. Young, and impressionable.
Saleria composed her reply carefully, giving them a smile. “My blessing you may have: May you each know a long and good life filled with many more moments of happiness than sorrow. And the blessing of Sweet Kata and Joyful Jinga you shall have as well, when Prelate Lanneraun witnesses and blesses your walking of the eight altars. As for marital advice . . . I have not been married, myself. I am therefore not qualified to lend you any, other than that marriage between mortals is never perfect.
“There will be times when you merely disagree, and times when you fight,” Saleria warned them gently. Sometimes young couples like this rushed into marriage, though there was hope they were wise despite their tender years. “The important thing is to remember that you choose to love each other. Every single day, when you wake up and face the new day, you have a choice. You can choose to love, and forgive, and seek to compromise and take turns. To share the day’s tasks, triumphs, and tragedies, to support each other through the difficult times and to help make your good times even better. You can choose to understand, to forgive, to set aside or peacefully discuss and listen to each other’s worries, needs, and requests . . . or you can choose differently, to tread some path other than love.
“Each and every day, you can make that choice, and you make it every single time you interact with each other, in how you interact. I hope both of you choose wisely, and follow through on your decisions to the betterment of both yourself and your partner,” she finished. “That is the only advice I am qualified to give.”