Chapter 6

Zaidna

The Empire of Judath

The Temple of Marin

Batem and Vasim shuffled slowly down the short hall leading from the chapel lobby, and Kirin followed several paces behind.  She had never been to the Chamber of Dreaming, and had never expected to unless she actually became the Nassé.

“Don’t be nervous,” Batem reassured as he turned his head to smile at Kirin.  The wrinkles on his face deepened ominously in the shadows made by the oil lamps lining the walls.  “It’s unusual that the Nassé would see someone outside of the clergy, but perhaps because of your house she wishes to extend an invitation for you to join the seminary and become a priestess early.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Kirin didn’t respond.  She was barely getting used to the idea of degrees of focus beyond the first.  The thought of joining the seminary and becoming a priestess so soon made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Just think about how fortunate you are to have this opportunity,” Batem said as they stepped into the light, revealing the vast temple foyer before them and the strata of tiered floors stretching above them.  The broad windows below the second floor filled every nook with shafts of sunlight.  “Even I have never met the Nassé.  This could very well be the defining moment of your young life.”

Vasim made a swift cutting gesture with his hand.  “We don’t need everyone to hear about this,” he hissed disapprovingly.

A touch of color spread across the surface of Batem’s jowls before he shook his head and grumbled.  The priests led Kirin past the central staircase to the restricted hallway, which Kirin had always been told led to a private staircase up to the very top of the temple, where the Chamber of Dreaming was located.  A couple of stout, young guards in priest robes stopped them momentarily, but quickly waved them on.

They moved along the long hall, and Kirin couldn’t help but notice the smooth walls and ceiling catching the sunlight reflected from the mosaic-tiled floor.  It was so beautiful for something so few people would ever see.  At the end of the hallway stood a winding, alabaster staircase.

Kirin followed the priests onto the stairs and looked up.  The stairs seemed to spiral upward forever.  She looked at Batem worriedly.  Were they really going to climb the whole way up?

“These stairs are very long,” Batem commented, finally breaking the silence now that there was no one else around them.  “They’re difficult on my knees, but perhaps they won’t be so hard on yours, Kirin.  I’ve suggested to the high priests for years that one of those engstaxi lifts should be installed, but they’ll hear nothing of it.”

“Enough, Batem,” Vasim chided as they began their long climb.  “We do not trust engstaxi inventions or anything powered by binding ormé.  Naltena would not have us practice it.”

Kirin had never realized that priests might disapprove of binding ormé, especially since Batem had been teaching it in his classes for the last few weeks.  She had actually become quite proficient at using it to make stones glow semi-permanently.  Her first successful experiment was now serving as an extremely useful reading light.

“Nonsense!” Batem argued, waving his free hand.  “I’ll never understand the fear of binding ormé.  You carve a glyph into a stone and it does something useful.  Even the kadas of the three emperors have glyphs carved on them.  I’m tired of the priests constantly whispering about the evils of binding ormé.  Not one Nassé, nor the goddess herself, has ever forbidden it.  The priests only dislike it because of what the Dread God did with it.  Carving glyphs into people, now there is a heinous practice!”

“We don’t speak of that!” Vasim scolded, and Batem silenced himself at once.

Kirin swallowed, wondering if she had just heard something that was very secret.  When Vasim glanced over his shoulder to check on her progress, she made certain to look over the edge of the curving banister and pretend as though she were counting the stairs rather than listening to their conversation.  Had the Dread God really used binding ormé on people?  What would be the benefit?  She started to imagine the Dread God Anoth carving glyphs into the flesh of his enemies and followers alike.  Maybe it was his favorite form of torture.  Or maybe he did it to set his favorites apart.  All the possibilities were horrible and endless and fascinatingly forbidden.  Kirin felt a twinge of guilt that she would be thinking of such things in Naltena’s temple, but she couldn’t help herself.

The sound of fatigued wheezing from the priests called Kirin back to reality.  While Kirin was daydreaming of atrocities at the hands of the Dread God, they had climbed hundreds—perhaps even thousands—of steps.  She realized that she was feeling a bit tired, too.  Her thighs ached, and a tendon in her left ankle felt like it was being pinched by an unseen force every time she took a step.  She could only imagine how Batem was feeling.

As they reached the final landing, Batem and Vasim immediately stumbled forward and rested against a curved stone wall in front of them.  Kirin blinked, adjusting to the bright sunlight that appeared around her, and was a little surprised to hear birds singing nearby.  She always knew that the Nassé lived and worked in the Chamber of Dreaming but had only ever glimpsed the domed skylight of the chamber from the ground.  The thought of the Nassé just beyond this wall was exciting.

But that could wait a few minutes.  Kirin moved to stand beside the priests, leaning against the wall in order to ease the stitch in her side.  From here she could see just how high up they were over the wide balustrades spanning between stone pillars, which acted as the only barriers to keep Kirin from falling off the walkway to her death.  Any smart person would hug the convex walls around to the entrance of the chamber to avoid being whisked away by a stray gust of wind.

Kirin cautiously pushed off from the wall and ventured over to the stone barrier and grabbed it tight, feeling a small thrill of fear as she looked down at the city below.  She had looked out the windows of Batem’s third floor study plenty of times, but that was nothing compared to this!

Maybe this was what it was like to see things as the goddess saw them from the Mother Star.  Kirin could see each of Marin’s main avenues as they led away from the holy district.  And all the buildings and their domed rooftops were like multicolored glass beads in the sunlight.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she were to become the Nassé one day, so long as she could wake up to this every morning.

Kirin heard some movement to her right and glanced over her shoulder to see two elderly women approaching along the circular walkway.  They were dressed in long, black robes, with striped sashes wound around their waists, tied off in pretty, ornamental knots that had too many loops for Kirin to count.  These were priestesses, she realized.

Even though she had been an acolyte for several years now, she had never actually seen a priestess before.  It was considered a sacred position, and only women selected as candidates for Nassé were permitted to join the men in seminary, and of course very few of them would ever actually become the Nassé, as there could only be one at a time.  The remaining priestesses served as the Nassé’s private attendants for the rest of their lives.  Kirin had been told her entire life that she would make a fine priestess, but she hadn’t really considered what that might be like.  Was Batem actually correct that the Nassé intended to invite her to seminary early?  If so, was she ready?  She began to twist her skirt in her hands.

Batem straightened himself up and hobbled over to the balustrade where she stood.  “The only men permitted to meet with the Nassé are high priests, so you will have to go with these priestesses without me.  Besides, Vasim and I must start heading down now if we have any hope of having dinner before dark.”

“But Batem!” Kirin protested.  How could he possibly abandon her to these strangers?  How would she find her way back?

“You’ll be fine,” Batem reassured, patting her arm.  “Just be very polite and do exactly as you are told.”  He then moved to stand beside Vasim, who was now lingering near the stairs.

The priestesses finally reached Kirin, and each extended a hand to her.  Kirin took their hands and stood between them, gazing helplessly as Batem and Vasim bowed and took their leave.

The priestesses swiveled around and started to lead Kirin around the curving gallery.  As they walked, Kirin quickly became aware of an annoying swishing sound that accompanied each step she took.  Where was that coming from?  She looked down and realized that it was the stiff fabric of her skirt rubbing against her thighs.  Had she suddenly gained weight?  What was making her skirt so tight?  She glanced over at one of the priestesses.  Why weren’t her skirts making any noise?  Peering down as inconspicuously as she could, she noted that the black fabric of the priestesses’ skirts was rather fine and gauzy, like smoke over water.  The priestesses made hardly a whisper as they moved.

Kirin dared to speak when she noticed one of the women looking quizzically at her.  “So how does the Nassé decide which priestesses live in which temple?  Were you all friends in seminary?”  She hoped that a little polite conversation would distract them from the irreverent sounds her skirt was making.

The shorter of the two priestesses frowned, while the taller one let loose a chuckle that made Kirin shiver.  “The high priests select the Nassé’s attending priestesses.  The Nassé has no say in the matter.”

“Oh.”  Were people not supposed to talk when near the Chamber of Dreaming?  Were they worried that they might wake the Nassé up?  How could these women spend so much time up here?  Didn’t they get lonely?

The priestesses finally led Kirin around the walkway to the opposite side of the tower, where they found a stone door.  Her heart skipped a beat.  Was this the door to the Chamber of Dreaming?  One of the priestesses pulled open the door to reveal a long, white corridor lined with mirrors.

As they moved down the hall, Kirin was drawn to the mirrors lining both sides, fascinated by her infinitely repeating reflections in them.  Even with the priestesses there, she was sorely tempted to wave her arms around at the mirrors experimentally.  She continued to stare sidelong at herself until she felt the priestesses suddenly pull back on her arms, stopping her from running into the pair of silver-plated doors now standing in front of her.  They were very fancy, inlaid with disks of mother-of-pearl and moonstone.

“This is the Chamber of Dreaming,” the short priestess said curtly.  “You are to keep silent unless the Nassé specifically requests for you to speak.”

Kirin nodded, and the second priestess pushed the doors open.  Inside was a spacious room, circular in shape and extremely well lit.  The whole ceiling was comprised of a massive domed skylight with celestial symbols embellishing its frame.  As Kirin walked further into the room, she noticed three golden spires positioned at equal distances just outside the skylight’s perimeter.  She had seen the spires hundreds of times from the ground, but never this close.  This really was the Chamber of Dreaming!

Kirin wondered how the Nassé could sleep in a room so bright, but understood a bit better as they approached the bed standing in the direct center of the chamber.  The bed was circular, like everything else in the room, and was canopied with long black curtains that were clearly meant to block out all light.

To the right of the bed, another priestess was sitting on the floor behind a small writing desk, which was covered in parchment paper and ink bottles.  This must have been the Nassé’s chronicler, the priestess who recorded the prophetess’s dreams as she recounted them.  Kirin was in awe.

“Your Holiness,” intoned the taller of the priestesses who had led Kirin in, “we have brought you Kirin Toredath, daughter of the ninth house of ormé, as you requested.”

“Ah, yes, you have my thanks.”  The voice that came from behind the curtain was soft but authoritative.  “Please leave us, all of you.  I wish to speak with Kirin alone.”

All the attending priestesses looked at each other uncomfortably, including the chronicler.

“But Your Holiness, we cannot leave you alone!” the tall priestess exclaimed.

“Do as I say!” the Nassé commanded more sternly, and the priestesses unhappily obeyed, closing the doors after them.  Kirin now stood alone, staring into the darkness beyond the bed’s slightly parted curtains.  She couldn’t help but hold her breath.

“Are you scared?  You needn’t be,” the Nassé reassured.  Her voice was low and dulcet.  “You may not think I know you, but I do.  I was once a girl like you, one who just so happened to have a gift for dreaming.  Come closer.  You may look at me.  Part the curtains, but only a little.  My eyes are sensitive to the light.”

Kirin exhaled and forced herself to move toward the bed.  She reached up and parted the curtains a little more, revealing the Nassé half-reclining in the center of the circular mattress, which was covered in black satin sheets and pillows.  There was a silver tray resting beside her, upon which sat a platter of fruit and a pot of steaming tea.

The Nassé, however, was not at all what Kirin expected.  “You’re an engstaxi!” Kirin blurted out.  She had only ever seen a few engstaxis, and only from a distance.  Engstaxis almost always kept their whole bodies concealed from the sunlight, which could be deadly to them, but the Nassé was wearing nothing more than a loose black and white robe, which had no sash to keep it closed.  Her body seemed so small and frail, almost like a child’s.

The Nassé smiled.  “You are surprised that the Nassé could be an engstaxi?  I suppose I cannot blame you.  We do tend to speak more of the Nassé’s station than her race.  Focusing on political distinctions rather than spiritual ones tends to stir up unnecessary conflict among the empires.”

“I’ve never seen an engstaxi uncovered before,” Kirin replied, too interested to be ashamed.  The Nassé’s eyes were a stunning red color, with large pupils that were a stark contrast to her delicate, pale face.  In combination with her colorless hair, she looked like a living porcelain doll.