The air was hot and sticky in the Hall of Ceremony. Multicolored flecks of light glimmered off of every surface within—off of the shimmering murals that adorned its ceiling, off of the rows of polished stone pews that filled its belly, off of the sweat-ridden skin of the Faithful gathered inside. Dienna, seated in the front row, was determined not to let the heat bother her. It was the same every summer, and, after all, the heat was a gift from the sun—a symbol which was repeated in gold motif on her red and saffron colored robes and around the Hall of Ceremony at large, and worn by the man who stood at the front of the Hall.
Light danced around the man. It glinted off of the circlet of gold he wore on his brow and made the gold embroidery of his white robes glitter. He was silent now, his head bowed as he listened to the heavy-set priest next to him sing a somber hymn. His expression was smooth and peaceful. He looked younger than truly he was in that moment. Though his hair still had its grays, spreading the wisdom of the Way eased the lines of work and worry from his face, and Dienna was reminded of how he had looked in her girlhood, the father of her memories.
Next to her, Dienna's brother cleared his throat. She turned to him and was disgusted to see he had pulled a face and was panting like a thirsty dog, his tongue hanging limply out of his mouth. Dienna glowered at him, but this only served to increase Sonder's amusement—he tilted his head in further mimicry of a dog, and those seated around the siblings began to stare.
Just then, the plump priest’s song ended, and their father stood to address the congregation, his white robes settling gracefully around his form.
“What a beautiful song of thanks, Lord Varent. I am sure our Goddess of the Stars, Lady Seltos, is most pleased that we do her honor.”
“Thank you Lord Mayrim,” Varent answered and took his seat with a heavy sound.
“Now,” Lord Mayrim continued pleasantly, “As you can all tell by the weather, Midsummer is nearly upon us.”
A chuckle fluttered through the sweating crowd.
He smiled, “As is traditional at this most sacred time of year, all four Prominents have invited the youth of the Godskeep and the Golden Village to pay homage to the gods. They have prepared a play, to remind those of us gathered here today what our gods have done for us. I think you will find it most charming. Children, if you please.”
A horde of children appeared at his signal. They walked from the back of the Hall, some dressed in rags, meant to represent our poor ancestors, Dienna thought, while others were dressed in bright yellows or all in white. Some were also dressed in all black. She recognized many of the children. Lord Varent’s daughters, with their short black hair and their father’s dark skin were all dressed in yellow. Dienna also picked out most of Lord Tevinan Gael’s large brood, all with fair hair and skin and the signature large nose and receding chin of the Gaels. They gave their grandfather pleading and resentful looks as they marched up the aisles toward the center with the other children, most of whom were peasant children from the Village. Lord Tevinan, for his part, just smiled his wizened old smile from his seat behind Dienna’s father, his priestly robes a bit askew.
The commotion stopped, and all the children were now assembled in the Hall’s center, facing the crowd. Everyone hushed, and many of the children started to look back at Lord Mayrim nervously. He smiled and announced, “You may begin.”
The children promptly knelt on the floor, heads bowed, leaving only one very small little girl in a black tunic. Dienna had never seen eyes so wide as this poor girl’s, and wondered if she could even summon the courage to speak.
Suddenly, the girl started in a shaky pip of a voice, “We were born in darkness. The sons and daughters of the night, we toiled and struggled in a world that held no light.”
She said these words with obvious rehearsal, and, Dienna thought, likely did not know what many of them meant.
“But, we did not toil forever,” the girl continued. “In the heavens, there was a benev’lent god called Dartos. A child of the heavens. A holy be'n orphaned by his celest'l mother.”
At the god’s name, a small group of children dressed in shimmering gold stood in a circle, their arms outstretched toward the ceiling.
“When he saw the struggles of the humans on earth, he took pity on them and created the sun from his third eye, leaving himself with only two.”
The group of children in gold ripped an imaginary eye from their foreheads, and the group of children dressed in bright yellow sprang up and waved their arms about wildly, imitating light shining forth from the sun. The children in black leaped away from the children in yellow and fell down to the ground as if wounded from battle.
Next to Dienna, Sonder was sneering.
“Following his good ‘xample,” the little girl in black continued, “Lantos, another god in heaven, saw the humans suff’ring at night after the sun had gone away, took pity on them, and gave the flesh of his belly to light their way.”
The children in yellow and gold ceased their arm waggling and sat down while the children in black stood up and started swooping around. Then, a group in silver stood in a circle and mimicked violently ripping out their stomachs and offering them up to the sky. A group of children in white then stood to wiggle their arms, representing moonlight.
Dienna could feel Sonder’s body shaking with silent laughter.
“Stop it Sonder,” Dienna whispered.
He put his hand over his mouth, but his chortles continued all the same.
Dienna sighed and looked up to where her father sat with the three other Prominents, a serene smile on his face, a look of little interest on the faces of the others.
“Lastly,” the little girl squeaked, “The goddess Seltos saw that, although the humans had light during day and night, they still had trouble findin’ their way. So she took pity on all those who lived without love or guidance, and thus gave of her own heart, shatt’ring it in a million pieces to light the night sky, giving us our guiding stars.”
This must have been the end of her speech, for the girl looked much relieved. Around her, children in copper who had been scattered about the others now stood and twirled in place with their hands clasped together above their heads. After a few extended moments of twirling, the children stopped, looked around at each other and decided it was time to take a bow.
The assembly started to clap politely. Here and there Dienna could hear more rigorous applause, likely from the parents of the brave little players. Next to her, Sonder was clapping loudly and hooting as if he were at a joust.
She was just about to reprimand him when their father rose and spoke from the dais. “Well done, children, well done. Thank you all for reminding us what our gods have so graciously done for us. As followers of the Way, we must never forget their selfless gifts, and as the Keeper of the Gods, I promise to each and every one of you that you are beloved of them. Who among us would give of their sight, their strength, their heart,” Lord Mayrim paused here, “if not for love.”
Her father’s loving smile was reflected on Dienna's own face as he said these words, and she knew she was not the only one touched by his speech. She could see people in the other pews, all smiling and joyous to hear this one, simple truth. They were loved. We are loved, Dienna thought to herself as her father invited Lady Amelie, the Prominent of Lantos, to lead the closing prayers. We keep the Way, and we are loved.
Dienna took her time leaving after the service was done, anxious though she was to be out of the too stuffy Hall of Ceremony. She was always conscious of being the daughter of the Keeper of the Gods, and she didn't want to be seen rushing away from the service like a child who was only there by means of parental coercion—which was, coincidentally, exactly how her brother Sonder was behaving. Dienna could see his dark brown hair as he bobbed and weaved through the crowd on his way out the door, and she shook her head. Finally, after waiting a few good minutes, Dienna stood from her seat and made her way out of the Hall of Ceremony and onto the green lawn of the Godskeep's inner bailey. She was greeted by blue skies and fresh air, and by a light breeze that blew her long, fair hair back from her overheated face and neck. She breathed deeply and smiled before she caught sight of Sonder skulking away towards the barracks. She gathered up the skirts of her robes and followed.
“Are you trying to upset father?” Dienna demanded once she had caught up with him.
“Oh come on, Dee,” he implored, looking back at her in annoyance. “You saw that silly farce of a Midsummer’s play. I couldn’t help it.”
“They're children, Sonder. What do you expect?”
“Not much,” he replied. He shrugged away from his sister and started walking once again across the castle's inner yard. “It was funny. That's all.”
Dienna was close on her brother's heels, the breeze blowing her red robes behind her as she tried to keep up with his longer strides.
“Laughing during a service is inappropriate enough, Sonder,” she warned her brother, “but laughing at children during a play honoring the gifts of the gods is beyond unacceptable.”
Sonder turned, exasperated, “Do you want me to say that I'm sorry?” His eyes were bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. A flicker of concern touched Dienna through her harangue.
“Not to me, Sonder,” Dienna replied in mollified tones. She took her brother's forearm. “But it may be prudent to ask pardon of the gods.”
Sonder smirked and turned away, “I think they have greater crimes to pardon, Dee.”
Dienna stopped, watching her brother walk away with her lips pursed tight and her brow furrowed. Why did you throw it all away? She wanted to demand. Why did you give it all up? Instead, she called after him, “They have given us so much Sonder. We must give them all we can in return.”
Her brother either did not hear or did not care, for he walked on without another glance at his little sister.
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