Chapter 7

Borner debated skipping past the pool of light cast by the Love Temple but he saw a fifth figure whose head was wrapped in a shawl standing with the Love Temple guards. He stepped into the light, drew near to the steps, bowing low.

“I told you he was crazy.”

Andela stepped out from amid her guards. “Did you have a nice visit?”

Borner cocked his head, wondering how to answer. “It was not as pleasant as visiting with you,” he began until he heard the telltale scraping of boots coming up the avenue. “Let us take this conversation inside.”

He took the steps two at a time and ran in front of the priestess and through the open door. He spun back around to confront a perturbed woman. “I would prefer that no Urutu see my face this night. I’ve already seen too many of theirs.”

“Well, you got me out of my bed. What happened?”

“My first impression is that they are violent and ambitious. They are building a cult of priestly warriors whose god commands them to bring truth and benevolence to the holy city by the sword ... Oh yes, they don’t like you.”

“There is nothing holy about this city,” she said. “What do they want?”

“They would empty the Avenue of the Gods and take ownership of the rest of the city, if I heard correctly. They protect the king as if he were a living deity or something. I don’t really understand how the two objectives go together, save the king and Urutu rule the city.”

“I’m sure that the light of day will clarify some of what you glimpsed tonight,” Andela said. “Tell me, do you make a habit of stealing into temples in the dead of night?”

“Urutu does,” Borner said with a huff. “If they do, then they give me license to do the same. Silly of them, they have a back door that they refuse to lock at night.”

She did not look impressed with his answer. His shoulders slumped with fatigue and his head drooped. “I concede your point. Sneaking into a warrior temple was a stupid stunt, especially for a grown man who should know better. I beg the indulgence of the goddess. No one has gone to seek Urutu’s intentions and in my forays this afternoon, none are considering such a task. Everyone seems to be blockading their sanctuary doors in hopes that this will pass or that someone else will get the sword through the gut.”

“I see,” Andela said with her arms crossed. “You are some sort of prophet-hero adventurer come to save the naïve citizens from the threat within their midst that they are too blind to see.”

“Ah, no,” Borner said with as much perplexity as he could muster, “Am I in trouble? With you?”

“I meet a nice man who isn’t showering me with gifts in hope of services rendered or gaping at my cleavage in hope of services rendered. He understands intuitively what I say and what I leave unsaid. After making sincere promises of help and commitment to the goddess, said man runs about the avenue deliberately provoking his own death. The Sojourner whispers that you are a man of integrity and a true oracle, but I’m half convinced that you are a lunatic mocking my good nature and my temple.”

Borner handed her his staff, which he had to shake twice to convince her to take it. He walked across the hall and stood before the statue of the Goddess of Love and Beauty, Denarah. Her likeness towered over him three or four times over, casting shadows across the walls. Even in the dim light the white marble glowed. Her pedestal came halfway up to his chest as he leaned against it.

Borner reached over and placed his right hand over the big toe resting in its sandal. “Let your goddess judge between you and me. Ask me any question and I will answer. If my answer is not truthful, may the goddess strike me dead.”

“You’re in the wrong temple, oracle,” Andela said as she stepped beside him. “My goddess does not strike down blasphemers. She entices them to turn from their evil ways and repent, giving reward of the heart for their deeds.”

“Great, the woman who entrances me serves an enlightened goddess. You hold my staff. You can strike me down if I don’t answer truthfully.”

“The temptation to clonk you on your fool head is almost too great to resist. Give me strength, Denarah, that I may abide by your teachings.” After looking up into the face of the statue, Andela returned to Borner. “Are you from Andamathea and did you witness her death?”

“Yes and yes.”

“Are you a prophet?”

“I don’t want to be, but I fear that I am.”

“Yes or no, oracle man.” She raised his staff over his head.

“Yes. No. Don’t make me answer that one.”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“I don’t want to answer that one either. Wait! Wait! I lost Andamathea and I lost Arimas. I could not save them. Something of me, my childhood, my history, my identity died with them.”

“The god placed a task into your hands,” she said.

“No, no god that I believe in would permit the wholesale slaughter of a people. I would have traded my death to save them. I witnessed absolute evil and it was created by man. The ancients say that absolute evil cannot exist in the world if the gods abide. I witnessed it though, the massacre of a nation and a people. Gods or absolute evil: the world holds one or the other.”

“Your god saved you, does that not count for something?”

“Why did I survive, priestess? Why should I continue to live when all my people died? Those people suffered and died for no good reason. Nothing good came out of the slaughter of Andamathea and her sister cities, only death and evil. Even your goddess died at Andamathea.”

Borner fell to his knees. “I’m sorry. The death of my god is not your doing.” He felt arms encircle him and a soft cheek brushed against his whiskers.

“Did I not say that the goddess rewards with gifts of the heart?” she breathed into his ear. “Did you come here to save Gemma from the same fate as Andamathea?”

“I was not sure when I arrived, thinking only that I had been caught up in a royal intrigue. After tonight’s visit to the fanged temple, yes. Yes, I fear a similar fate for your city.”

Borner wrapped his arms around her and cried into her shawl. He sobbed and cried until his knees, resting on the unforgiving marble, began of ache. He straightened his spine and considered her eyes. “I lost Andamathea. I just met you today and you let me cry in your arms tonight. You are already precious to me.”

“Blessed be the goddess, oracle,” she said. “All hearts can be redeemed, even yours. As the goddess has saved you, can you save me and my city?”

“My name is Borner and I don’t want to be your oracle. I have no vows and no pledges to offer. I know only the Sojourner and you in this city, which is not enough to save anything yet. Did you not say that tomorrow could bring some clarity?”

She clasped his face in her palms, brushing away his tear tracks with her thumbs. He watched every crease and shadow on her face for some clue to her thoughts. When he saw no hints, he settled further within her hands and purred contentedly. Not content to let the moment slip away, he bridged the gap between them and kissed her fully on the lips. When she did not push him back, he kissed her again and then again.

A guard clearing his throat across the room broke the spell. Andela blushed down to her bosom, but the smile was wide. Borner stood up first and offered her his hand. When she rose, she squeezed his hand tighter and escorted him back to the temple entrance, handing him back his staff.

“Good night, Borner.”

“Good night, Andela.” He scurried down the steps and dove back into the shadows. As fast as he could, without showing himself on the avenue, Borner crept to the alley and into the Sojourner’s abode. Kanner was waiting for him.

They spoke further into the night until finally the exhaustion of the day convinced Borner to seek out his bed.

His sleep was dreamless. He awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking somewhere nearby. Rousing himself from beneath the warm blanket, Borner practiced his forms with and without his staff. Downstairs, he found a couple of journeymen and a passel of acolytes gathered around a large table. One of Sojourner journeymen was ladling hot mulled grain into bowls while the other was tossing herbed rolls, daring each boy to catch it. The rolls were hot, too. The sight dredged up memories of his own days in the temple kitchens and brought a smile to Borner’s face.

Snatching a roll from the basket before the young man could hand it to him, Borner also grabbed a full bowl just as it was being handed over to pass down the table. “Such young, gullible youth” he announced as he walked out of the kitchen. “Such stodgy old farts,” one of them shouted after him followed by giggling and shushing noises.

He found Kanner at his desk with an empty bowl next to him. His quill was wet and resting on a well-stone. “Already busy this morning?”

“Someone keeps riling up the natives, but propriety demands that I not mention his name,” Kanner said. “Are you planning to visit the other temples today?”

“Did you hear from the cousins?” Borner asked.

“They will send an escort after sunset.”

Borner ripped into the roll and then decided to use it to spoon the porridge. He looked up when half of the bowl was devoured. “I could spend the day enjoying the delights of the garden or maybe even perusing the market to replace my meager provisions. I’m rather curious about the temples that were closed last night. Very unorthodox don’t you think?”

“Is this an early morning attempt at humor or are you in another manic state,” Kanner asked, twirling the quill in his fingers.

“It is dry humor and perfectly adequate for a morning’s repast. The question still stands.”

“I am in no mood to storm the doors of temples on the avenue,” Kanner said. “I have acolytes to teach and an institution to run despite the events of yesterday and last night. Actually, because of the events you precipitated yesterday, I have more work today. I can offer you a journeyman as a guide in the city if you would like.”

Borner shook his head and gathered both bowls. “I am sober this morning. I shall go first to the Temple of Death and offer up incense.”

“Temple of the God of the Underworld,” Kanner said. “They are sensitive about the death label, especially with a rising cult of death up the block. They are a friendly enough bunch if you don’t insult them. Are you going to stop by Denarah’s domicile and wrangle a cup of tea with her high priestess?”

“I promised myself to limit my plans to one step at a time.” He left and deposited his bowl with the scullery maid. Outside in the Garden of Repose, Borner stepped into the glade of counting stones and sat on a flat rock at its edge. The meditation was a simple mantra of picking up a stone in the left hand and transferring to the right one before setting it down. He made it to 242 before his concentration broke, giving him a measurement of his focus for the morning.

As he strolled up the avenue, he found himself counting again, counting all the believers making their way to and from the sanctuaries. The traffic was light. The God of the Underworld preferred his guards dressed in white cotton with brass plates and armguards. The spears were tipped with heads in the shape of leaves from the dorno tree, whose shape was like the tears of the mourner.