In Thea's Hands

Temples of Thea all contain a circular sanctum with walls of white stone. They’ve been built this way forever, by instructions laid out in the oldest texts. It gives them an otherworldly quality, like stepping though their doors is crossing into a distant past. Every temple Kurri has been in has been an ostentatious place decorated with old tapestries, murals, and mosaics depicting such scenes as the creation of Zenaran, stories of mankind’s encounters with the Guardians, and always a beautiful image of the radiant Goddess Thea.

Korben Temple is similar in principle, although it doesn’t seem the Holy See had much to spare in decor for this remote outpost. It does have a nice painted scroll of Thea unfurled above the inner sanctum door--where only clergy may pass. The rest of the artwork is not the usual sacred pieces commissioned over centuries from the continent’s greatest artists, but looks like local work, donated by devotees in the area. It shows their own interpretations of the Guardians as well as mortal figures in the Temple’s history. Dyrh the strength-bringer as a discordium miner pulling the weight of ten men; fiery Arkon rising above a mountaintop; Chi healing people of the blight; this all seems to Kurri much more authentic than the artwork of a master.

As always, candles and lamps eradicate every bit of darkness in the holy sanctuary. One could stand in front of a lamp and cast a wide shadow over the room, but unless every source of light was blocked, the others would cover it up. This symbolizes community. And nowhere is there a greater need for such community, because within these holy walls is no longer a peaceful place of worship, but a ward of disease, housing patients lying in cots around the edges of the sanctuary, with curtains set up around them to give them some privacy.

A young man Kurri’s age, with brown skin and long black hair tied behind his head, kneels by one of the patients. With a white crystal in one hand and a holy symbol in the other, he chants something softly, his eyes closed. Filla takes a step toward him but Kurri grabs the back of her vest.

“Don’t disturb a worker of the sacred arts,” he says.

He completes his chant and looks up, noticing them. He wears the white robe of the clergy, embroidered with the runes of the greater Guardians. But the back is covered by an arrow of Law embroidered in green thread. This is the robe of an apprentice, and he carries no staff.

“Ah, Perra!” he says.

“I’m Filla!”

“Of course, my mistake.”

“We look nothing alike,” she says.

“Well, whoever you are, I welcome your help. It’s great when they send me a medic.”

“This is Kurri, he’s a medic too,” she says.

“Two! Goddess bless us.” He walks up to Kurri. “I am Nisho, overseer of this temple.” He doesn’t sound like the others here, he speaks more like Kurri, like a flatlander. “The Pure Light still brings comfort to the sick and the wounded even in these chaotic times, but the blight is upon us here in full force. It’s no ordinary disease. Even the Guardians seem to want nothing to do with it.”

“Is the high priest around?” Kurri says.

“I’m afraid not.” He lowers his voice. “The purge of the clergy left them with no priest to spare by the time they finished building this temple. They were about to just abandon the whole thing, but I volunteered to look after it until a priest could be found.”

“They wouldn’t just promote you for this?” Filla says.

“It’s not that simple,” Kurri says.

“He’s right, comrade,” Nisho says. “An apprentice isn’t a priest until they’ve gone on a pilgrimage to a holy site and conducted a ritual to commune with one of the Guardians themselves. It’s more than just a job you get promoted into. Tell me, Kurri, do you have experience working with the blight?”

“Yes. I was a student in the capital and I once had the chance to visit the central blight ward.”

“Then you’ve seen the worst of the worst already. Maybe you bring us some new revelations about the nature of the disease, or even a treatment?”

“I wish I could say so. The fact is that the best doctors in Mallikus City don’t have any more of a clue than you do,” Kurri says. “But I’ll help your patients however I can.”

“Let’s see them,” Filla says, unslinging the medic kit from her shoulder.

“Hold on, I need you to do something first,” Nisho says. “Come with me to the inner sanctum.”

“The inner sanctum?” Kurri says. “Entering that chamber is forbidden to all but priests and their apprentices!”

“It’s the only place we can speak in private. Don’t worry, I give you special permission to behold the inner sanctum.”

He follows Nisho to the back of the temple, through the ornate wooden doors, beneath the sacred icon of Thea. He closes his eyes as he steps through the door, and opens them to a room lit by candles and oil lamps. The inner sanctum of a Thean temple must never know darkness. From the moment the last stone of its domed roof is placed, there is always at least a candle glowing within.

The room is without ornament, a simple place of white brick and white tile. The only icon here is the arrow of law, pointing upward to the sky. The walls are made up of terraced shelves lined with candles, mostly unlit currently. During some rituals, a thousand candles could be lit. To even behold this place is a privilege he is unworthy of. This work truly did take him to unexpected places.

“Okay you two,” Nisho says. “I have sents breathing down my neck about the clinic here and my tenuous qualifications to provide medical care. The temple hierarchy isn’t much better, I am supposed to be merely an overseer and here I am playing the part of a priest. If they barged in and found two suspicious strangers in grey scarves treating our patients, or if--Goddess bless them--one of our patients in a delirious haze mentioned having seen K.R.A. medics here to the wrong person, we’d be finished for sure, and these people would have no hope.

“Luckily, I have a solution.” He opens a cabinet near the door and turns back around with some folded up white clothes in hand. “Congratulations, you’re now apprentices to the temple of Thea.”

“What?” Filla says. “Of all the things to get roped into.”

“Relax, I don’t actually have the authority to do that, but the sentinels will be none the wiser.” He hands one robe to Filla and one to Kurri. “There was supposed to be a priestess-apprentice coming to help me, they even went as far as sending me some of her belongings, but no sign of her. That’s just the disarray the Temple is in. These might as well go to good use.”

“Isn’t this a little...sacrilegious?” Kurri says.

“I’m not exactly a priest you know,” Nisho says, “but I see it like this. Thea’s temple decrees that we must uphold three laws. There is the material law, the law of the nation we’re in, which, you seem comfortable enough defying. There’s personal law, our honor and trust with one another, well we all have plenty of secrets here. But above all is the cosmic law, resisting the forces of chaos. That includes the defense of life, doesn’t it? If we have to violate a few sacred protocols in order to save lives, it’s a clear choice to me, life above all.”

“I think you’re right,” Kurri says, carefully unfolding his apprentice robe. It is clean white fabric, so soft to the touch, broken only by the threading around its edges and the embroidery of the sacred arrow on the back and a few runes of the Guardians. The thread would be gold in a priest’s robe, but otherwise they are pretty similar.

“I’ll let you change, then you can get to work.” Nisho exists, leaving them alone in the inner sanctum.

“Priestess, not my first career choice,” Filla says. She turns away from Kurri and takes off her leather vest.

Kurri turns his back to her too and starts to undress. He pulls his arms through the sleeves of the robe and wraps it around him, tying it closed with its belt of white silk rope. It fits him rather tightly around his shoulders, but he can move well enough. The proportions seem off, a little uncomfortable.

“Doesn’t fit quite right,” Kurri says.

“Well it was tailored for some priestess-apprentice, she must be even smaller than you, Kurri,” Filla says. “Fits me perfectly.”

“Oh right.” He examines the sleeves, how the white fabric is sewn together with bright blue thread. The threading on Nisho’s robe is green, it’s a subtle but traditional difference between the vestments of priests and priestesses. “This is a priestess robe, I can’t wear this!”

“Why not? What does it matter?” Filla says.

“Don’t you think people will notice?” he says.

“What do you mean?” Filla says. “You look fine to me.” She ties her belt together. Her robe is identical to his but on her it’s a better fit.

Nisho re-enters the chamber. “Are you ready?”

“Ready!” Filla says.

“Oh, also, chances are slim that your names will ever get to the ears of anyone who might want to run a background check, but just in case, if anyone asks you are priestess-apprentice Selya,” he says to Filla. “And you are priestess-apprentice Eliana,” he says to Kurri. “Those are the names of apprentices who died recently, so they’re safe to use for a little while until the Temple updates its records.”

“I’m a priestess too?” Kurri says.

“Sorry, Kurri, that’s the robe and the name I’ve got available. Think you can play the part?” Nisho says.

“Look what a cute little priestess he makes.” Filla reaches over to pat him on the head. “And you have such pretty hair, it’s long enough to pass for a girl’s.”

“Hmm, yeah, I agree,” Nisho says. “You’ll pass for Eliana just fine. Hell, you make a better priestess-apprentice than Filla.”

“Your voice is even pretty feminine,” she says.

“Fine, fine, I am Eliana, priestess-apprentice to Korben Temple,” he says.

“And I’m Selya,” Filla says.

“Don’t worry,” Nisho says. “Nobody will even ask probably.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s see the patients,” Kurri says, throwing his medic bag back over his shoulder.

“Right this way.”

Nisho leads them out to the sanctuary and behind the curtains to the nearest patient, a young woman not more than twenty-five. Her skin is pale while, except for pitch black streaks running along her veins. The black is starting to seep underneath her fingernails and into the roots of her blonde hair. She turns her head slowly and looks Kurri in the eyes. Her green irises are speckled with black spots, and black veins are creeping in along the edges of their whites. She gives a slight smile. Kurri shifts his eyes away.

“Shali here is one of our worst cases,” Nisho says. “She’s too weak to speak now, but she knows you’re here. Blight takes everyone, any age, any gender...”

Kurri kneels down by her. “Hello Shali, I’m a med--um, I’m Eliana, I’m a priestess-apprentice here at the temple. I’m going to take a look at you, is that okay?”

She nods weakly.

“The blight is unpredictable by its very nature,” Kurri says, checking Shali’s pulse. “Publishing about it is forbidden, so outside of Central even doctors only know as much as their personal experience can tell them.”

“What is your assessment, then?” Nisho says.

He unbuttons the patient’s shirt and sees the black veins under her skin reaching inward toward her heart. “I’m sorry, Shali. You probably only have weeks. Once it reaches your heart...”

“I see.” Nisho kneels down next to him. “I’m sorry, Shali. We’ve done all we can for you. You are in Thea’s hands now.”

She closes her eyes. Kurri checks her pulse again.

“She’s okay,” Nisho says. “She needs her rest.”

Kurri clutches his necklace, swaying side to side slightly as he stares at the white stone floor.

“You okay?” Filla says.

“It is a heavy burden, what we are doing,” Nisho says.