Page 60 of The Source of Storms

“Yes?” a soft male voice replied, then paused, waiting for a response.

Byrgir and El glanced at each other in the awkward silence that followed, clearly unsure whether to respond. Before they could, the anchorite knocked a single time on the door.

The man on the other side cleared his throat and responded, “Ah, one moment.”

The door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in robes of deep maroon with gold accents, his white beard bright against his deep chocolate skin. “Ah,ahem, unexpected visitors. Thank you, Lanette.” He nodded dismissively to the anchorite. She bowed her head and walked away.

The man held open the door for us and then strode back toward his desk. “Please, come in. I am Herald Vidament. How can I help you?” He gestured to the seats in front of his wooden desk.

The office was not small, but felt cramped due to the rows of bookshelves stuffed with books, the writing desk piled with parchment and open notebooks, and the various tapestries and iconography hung about the walls. It looked like the accumulation of an entire career of religious and scholarly studies, all packed into a poorly organized space.

El took the lead as we found our seats and Vidament settled behind the desk.

“I am Elenwen Elduren. These are my companions, Byrgir Ulfarsson and Halja Latharnach.”

As she spoke, she pushed back her hood and watched his reaction. Centered, confident, like she was used to challenging strangers with her presence and enjoyed it. Once again, I found myself envious of El, but for entirely different reasons now. I wanted her confidence.

Vidament smiled politely, yet shifted uncomfortably as he took in her curled horns and deep red-orange eyes. “Ahem, a pleasure to meet you all, welcome, yes, welcome. What brings you to our Temple?”

“We wished to extend a greeting from the Council of Rhyanaes. It has been many years since any of the Council met with delegates from Avanis, and I believe none of those delegates have ever represented the Temple of Enos. It seemed to the Council like it was time our two groups communicated directly. Especially given the High Priestess’s station of influence with King Evander.”

“From Rhyanaes, of course. I myself am not a politically affiliated delegate of the High Priestess––ahem––but work under the Temple in service to our Lord Eros and the Divine High Priestess as a Herald.” He enunciated his words as if he’d read them from a scroll he had just unrolled and held grandly in front of him. “Therefore I cannot necessarily grant you any political meeting or act as a spokesperson on the High Priestess’s behalf.”

He paused, but El didn’t take the invitation to speak.

“However––ahem––it is my rudimentary understanding that the Rhyanaes Council acts as both the spiritual and political leaders of Rhyanaes, and the Sourcerers of all Elvik, so if it is matters of spiritual balance you wish to discuss, I may be of service.”

“It seems that spiritual and political balance are more heavily intertwined for ourselves and your High Priestess,” Byrgir said. “Lucky for you, you get to skip the politics.”

Vidament chuckled. “Ah, ha ha! Quite right, lucky indeed, Mister Ulfarsson. I find matters of the spirit far more vital, and much more fulfilling.”

Men in this city spoke more easily to Byrgir than to El or myself. I was not sure if it was because we were fae-touched, or simply because we were women.

“As you guessed, we’re here for both the spiritual and the political, since they are becoming more and more inseparable by the day,” El said. “A member of the old faith and a trusted ally of the Council was arrested and taken from her home by force two months ago. We’ve requested more information on her situation through letters and have received no reply. We’re here to ascertain her charges and diplomatically resolve what has certainly been a misunderstanding. Could you tell us who we should speak to? Perhaps the High Priestess herself?”

“Ahem.” Vidament cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “High Priestess Zisorah is quite important––ahem––to both the function of this Temple, and to the kingdom and His Highness, King Evander. As such, she is quite busy. A meeting with her Deacons could perhaps be arranged in a few days, if you’ll be in Avanis for a while.”

“As soon as possible would be preferred,” El replied. “There are individuals whose health and wellbeing depends on timely negotiation.”

“Again––ahem––there are many others beyond myself that need to be consulted and involved in these decisions. Including said Deacons. I am not able to make appointments on their behalf, but I can request one.”

“Forgive my ignorance,” I said, “but could you explain to me who the Deacons are? What their role is within the Temple and to the High Priestess herself, I mean.”

“Of course. The Deacons are the second highest station in the organization of the Temple. They are the High Priestess’s most trusted advisers. They oversee the workings of the Temple, and we Heralds work directly beneath them.”

“Excellent,” El said. “A meeting with the High Priestessandher Deacons would be a showing of good faith, and a strong start to the peaceful future between the venerable Paragons of the Light and our own people.”

“Ahem, very well. I shall issue a request for a meeting on your behalf.” The Herald shuffled through a stack of papers and retrieved a clean sheet. He began taking notes. “Where are you staying?”

“The Bronze Blade,” El replied.

“And how long will you be here? Before you return to––ahem––Rhyanaes?”

“As long as we must be,” El answered, “although, like I said, a meeting as soon as possible would be greatly appreciated.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Vidament said, scribbling notes. “I’ll have word delivered to you at the inn when the meeting is set. In the meantime, I encourage you to wander the grounds and attend a service at the Temple. They are both beautiful and uplifting. The next one is at noon in two days’ time.Ahem. Now, if there is nothing else I can help you with–”

“Actually, there is,” I cut in, to the surprise of everyone in the room. “The anchorite who brought us here…”

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