Profane rites, p.12
Profane Rites, page 12
She laughed at that. “I do not think that I will take much solace in that, Yonas. I will be required to report what I have seen here to the scribes in Rampura, but that is more a punishment than a reward. No, I fear that this has been a waste of time, unfortunately.”
* * *
Despite their pessimism about the worth of their discovery, they scoured the ruins for hours. Poking around in empty chambers, long dusty hallways, poring over ancient carvings. There was a single entry to the pyramid, up a flight of twenty-two stairs from the pond. They had no trouble gaining access to the building, a long corridor running straight from that entry to another flight of stairs deep within. There were no other doorways or passages on that level.
The darkness in the chamber was thick and complete, so Yonas fashioned a makeshift torch from a branch, and a bundle of kindling that he foraged from the nearby jungle. The torch burnt unevenly, often threatening to extinguish, but Yonas would coax it back to life with his breath. By that flickering light, they managed to explore the place. The next level up contained a hive of rooms, most long empty but for dust and spiderwebs. In one room they found an old stone altar without ornamentation, its purpose long forgotten. Another room revealed a line of caskets, four in total, their wood rotten and crumbling apart. They found two strange copper coins on the floor amidst the dirt in another place. A bare-bladed knife resting in the centre of that room with no other clue as to its purpose. The knife held a sharp edge, its hilt ornately designed to the point where it felt uncomfortable to hold; a design that neither Yonas nor Honorata were familiar with.
Their search bore no fruit. Dusk was approaching as they regrouped at the front of the building. They had long relaxed, letting their guard down once it had become apparent that Shankar had not arranged for any kind of trap for them. In some ways, Honorata was disappointed about that. If the heretic had planned something for them then at least that gave her some clue about what the man was up to, what he was trying to achieve, rather than this empty feeling of a wasted journey. She watched the monkeys frolic, chasing one another in a complex game of leaping and swinging, the simians still entirely uninterested in the visitors.
“There’s no point leaving now. It’ll be dark within the hour. I’ll build a fire and we can sleep here.” Yonas gestured at a flat space at the edge of the pond before the great temple. “Unless you want to seek shelter inside?”
Honorata shuddered at the thought. Perhaps they had not found anything that posed a threat to them today, but she still considered the place a remnant of an evil past. At the very least, it was a monument to heresy. It would not do for a priestess of Devi to seek shelter in such a place.
“No, Yonas. This place is good enough. Let us sleep here and we can leave at first light.”
She helped him gather kindling and firewood. Dry material was hard to find in the verdant undergrowth, but they did well enough, and as darkness finally enveloped the clearing, they had a small fire going. It quickly grew and, before long, the flames cast exaggerated shadows throughout. They sat quietly, their conversation spent after a long day at each other’s sides.
They took the time to heat the food they had brought from Aluia and soon the smell wafted around them, the heady spices of a fish stew along with rice that had once been sticky but now was dried and clumpy after their days traveling. It was still delicious, and Honorata was too hungry to worry about the consistency of the food. The rich chunks of fish burnt with chili and mustard seeds, cooked in a style that she had not seen in Rampura.
She ate leisurely, taking the time to watch the light of their fire dance with the shadows cast by the looming jungle and the abrupt mass of the pyramid. This was a quiet place, with even the monkeys finally retiring for the evening, and it felt like a chance for her to relax. It seemed like they had been lurching from one crisis to the next since first meeting with Captain Brewer, and with the mysterious menace of the heretic far from this place and absent the immediate threat of the savagery of the ghoul, she allowed herself to let her guard down. It was more than that, she realised. Her relaxation allowed her to contemplate how she was compelled at all times to seek opportunities to be of assistance to others. Wherever she was, her oaths and her instruction meant that she instinctively looked for a chance to humble herself in the aid of another, and that was a tiring way to live.
It was only out here, in the middle of a wild jungle, at the foot of an ancient temple to unknowable gods, with only her bodyguard for companionship, that she realised that she had no one to serve. No one asking for blessings. No one asking for healing or other rites. No one toiling and in need of assistance.
She caught herself about to laugh. She did not want to explain to Yonas what she found so funny, and she suspected that he caught her half-smile. The realisation that it only took a trek into the jungle for days on end, away from civilisation and into the realm of a dead society of heathens and heretics for her to find true rest, was a difficult joke to explain.
As she turned these thoughts over in her mind, relaxed and unfocused, an unfamiliar feeling tugged at the back of her mind. Not alien like the touch of Shankar, not so corrupted that it jolted her to an immediate realisation. It was as unfamiliar as a stranger’s voice but with an accent that she recognised. It was only a tickle at first, the barest sensation. But it grew gradually. She went from thinking that she imagined something, to being confused and uncertain about what she was feeling, to eventually knowing that something was wrong. There was no mistaking what this was. It was an echo of the Song being used by a priestess of Devi, spoken with a strange tone but fundamentally the same.
Chapter Twelve
A vague sense of the source of that feeling led Honorata deeper into the jungle, away from the pyramid, Yonas in tow, the swordsman clutching a hastily assembled torch to light their way. At first, Honorata could not find a way through the undergrowth and she had to resort to simply forcing herself through, little regard being paid to protecting her robes. But before long, she found that she had been funneled towards a thin game trail, barely a path at all, rather a weakness in the thicket, which posed less resistance to their scrambling passage.
The sensation grew stronger the further she walked. What had begun as a hunch and a question as to her sanity had now turned into a certainty. There was a priestess of Devi here. How was that possible? Surely she would have known if the abbey had sent another from Rampura to this region on an expedition. Or would she? Perhaps she was not given as much information as she had assumed?
Honorata caught glimpses of the moon overhead, its light peeking through the canopy on occasion. The ground was muddy underfoot, squelching and grasping at her ankles as she hurried through, and she found that she did not care as the filth spread up her legs. They came upon another clearing. This one much smaller than the one that contained the great temple. The jungle crowded around this place, barely allowing it room to exist, threatening to devour it.
And in the centre of this tight circle crouched another temple. A smaller, more humble building. Square and squat, the stone of its walls pitted and scored by centuries of rain and wind. The jungle itself had worked damage on the structure; vines assaulted its walls as part of an eternal battle to drag the work of mankind back into the earth. There was none of the grotesque and dramatic sculptures that adorned the pyramid. Simple and plain, a place of worship fit for a priestess of Devi. Honorata felt drawn to the entrance, a gap in the stonework from which a flicker of flame could be seen.
“This is the place, Yonas. I can feel it. There is someone within singing the Song of Devi.”
The bodyguard peered at the door, holding his torch aloft. “If you say so, Sister. But I don’t like this. I will enter with you. Whether it’s a priestess or not, you will have my sword at your side.”
She smiled at him. “Yonas, I can feel the shape of the Song and it has the touch of one of my Sisters. It is impossible to explain, but it is entirely different to the aura that I could feel around Shankar. This is not a heretic, I know it.”
“Either way, Sister, I am here. I hope that I’m not needed.”
She touched his arm briefly, nodding her thanks before turning to the temple. She took a brief moment to compose herself, still feeling the flow of power emanating from the building, and walked inside. Yonas walked half a step behind, his hand poised near the hilt of his sword.
The scene that greeted them inside that building was entirely unexpected. It almost felt like looking through a window into a chapel in Rampura. Somehow Honorata stepped from the middle of the wilds, tearing her way through the thickest of jungles, into a richly furnished, well-maintained shrine to Devi. A plush carpet, the deepest of red, ran from the door to a fine altar at the front of the room. The altar was carved from stone, smooth and free from any imperfection. Draped over the top was a pristine white cloth upon which lay four incense holders in a row, incense lit and wafting thin wisps of smoke. On each side of the altar two low metal braziers burned slowly, the embers providing enough light for the room.
Kneeling before the altar was an old woman wearing the tattered dark robes of a priestess of Devi. Her head and feet were bare, her long white hair tied back behind her head. Honorata felt it; she was the source of the Song. It had to be her! As if sensing Honorata’s entry, the woman stiffly clambered to her feet, collecting a walking stick from the ground, and turned to greet the visitors. In contrast to the meticulous cleanliness of this place, the woman’s face was smeared with dirt. Honorata could see the robes were filthy in addition to being old. The priestess’s eyes were clouded, her skin heavily wrinkled. She wore no prayer beads and carried no holy symbol.
“Welcome, Sister. I have sensed your coming for days now and I am pleased that you have finally arrived.”
Honorata was taken aback at the casual way that she was addressed. If it was not for the memory of plunging through the dense jungle so recently, she would have been tempted to forget where she was.
“Thank you, Mother. I sensed your prayers and followed the Song of Devi to this place. My name is Sister Honorata. This is my companion Yonas, a sworn member of the Order of Edessa.”
The old woman’s clouded eyes searched out Yonas, peering at him curiously, an intensity about her gaze. “Yes, I see. My name is Mother Severa.”
Honorata’s heart leapt at those words. Finally, she had achieved something of worth during her Trial! She had thought this a fool’s errand, leading her to nowhere but muddy misery. And that meant that the heretic Shankar had been telling the truth! What to make of that man, she did not know. There was no doubt that he was evil, but this complicated the picture.
“Mother, it is with great joy that I discover your identity. I am performing the Trial of Saint Mirai. The Bishop of Rampura commanded that I investigate your whereabouts. I tracked you to Aluia where the local shaman told me that you had been there. She could not assist much more, and I had lost all hope of success.”
“You are too kind to use the word shaman for that woman in Aluia. She is without talent. Without intelligence,” Severa said. She spoke with a disdain that Honorata had never heard in the tone of a priestess. The Bhagava preached humility and patience at all times, and it was considered a great failing for a priestess to allow emotions such as jealousy or derision to show, no matter how strong those feelings existed under the surface. Honorata was puzzled by this.
“I do not wish to overstep what is appropriate, Mother, but what is it you are doing here? We have travelled for days, seeing nothing more than animals,” she asked.
Severa considered that for a moment. “Let us speak in private, Sister. Your bodyguard must withdraw. We will not speak long; you are safe here with me.”
Honorata looked at Yonas whose face betrayed concern. She gave him a reassuring nod and he reluctantly walked through the door, leaving the two priestesses alone.
“It is a complex situation, Sister. I do not believe that you are ready to hear it all, let alone one such as him,” Severa said. She paced up and down in front of the altar, contemplating her next words. “I have devoted my life to the service of Devi. From when I was just a girl, too young to know any better, to now, when I’m old enough to know too much, which is probably worse. I served in Rampura for more years than you have been alive. I healed the sick and tended the lepers in Pitali. I founded a mission in Gaur and stood strong against the heathen uprising. The foundations of the cathedral in Bhola were laid by these very hands.” As if to demonstrate her point, she held forward her gnarled, wrinkled hands. The nails were long and dirty, her palms smeared with a reddish-brown.
“But what has been my reward for a lifetime of sacrifice?” Severa continued. “An eternity of humility; every single day of my life giving away all that I was. Donating my very soul to those who could not care less. Unbelievers and thieves, willing to take whatever they can, to mouth words of faith when it suits them but not willing to repay the work that we do.”
Honorata frowned. These were the thoughts that all acolytes endured at times and the very reason why the abbey spent so long instilling discipline in young women so that they might have the power to hold strong. How could a woman as senior in the Church as Severa hold these views? Could she not see the greater glory in what they did? Did not the Song of Devi instill in her the calm and perspective necessary to know that they were on the right path?
“I came here to think. To meditate. To consider the works to which I have devoted my life and to contemplate my place in it all. I have lived the word of the Bhagava for decades upon decades, yet there was no clarity in the midst of what I was doing. I needed time and space and solitude. This place has given that to me,” Severa said, gesturing widely with her arms, her cloudy eyes burning with intensity. Honorata could feel the power in the woman’s voice, her passion almost verging on aggression.
“Yes, Mother, I agree about the importance of meditation and contemplation, but what about your good works? How can you help those in need if you isolate yourself?”
“You are listening but not hearing, Sister. After a lifetime of giving everything that I have, I was unable to give any more. Not for the moment. Perhaps you see that as weakness, a failing, but I can assure you that it is the opposite. I am stronger in spirit than I have ever been,” Severa said.
Severa was becoming more animated as she lectured Honorata. It unnerved Honorata in a peculiar war—this was so unlike the way of any other priestess she had ever met. Perhaps Severa had been out here too long, perhaps she was in need of healing herself, Honorata thought. She had seen afflictions of the mind before and she knew them to be complex. The sufferers were sometimes unaware themselves that they needed the assistance of Devi to achieve clarity once more.
Severa interrupted Honorata’s thoughts. “It is only through isolating myself from the constant demands of others, the begging and clamouring for aid that goes hand-in-hand with life as a priestess, that I have been able to truly discover myself. My potential. There is so much more about the Song that is not taught in Rampura. So much more within all of us. The old teachings blinker us from the real abilities that we all have—all priestesses—flowing through our veins, the power that makes up our very beings!”
Severa was almost shouting by now. Honorata fought her instinct to take a step back, holding a disciplined pose, her hands folded neatly before her, trying to appear impassive in the face of this ill-disciplined display. There was no point in both of them forgetting themselves. It was becoming more and more obvious that Severa needed help, and part of that meant that Honorata must not lose herself to emotion. That would benefit nobody, she thought.
Honorata responded in an even tone, her voice neutral and calm, impressing even herself with her control. “Mother, I worry about you and this way of thinking. I have met a heretic on my journeys recently. He spoke of similar—”
Severa interrupted with a fury that shocked Honorata. “A heretic? Who do you mean? Tell me his name.”
“His name was Shankar Panni.” Honorata was not so sure that she managed to keep her tone calm this time.
“That evil wretch! I will find that heretic and destroy him! You have no idea about the trouble that man brings with him! It swirls around him, radiates out from him. He is a monster through and through! His very essence is evil!”
Severa delivered this furious tirade at the top of her voice. Honorata found herself wondering what Yonas made of this, an odd thought at that moment. Surely the man was listening to this outburst; he could have no choice about eavesdropping given how loud the priestess was.
Severa blinked twice. The rage left her body almost instantly, and she regathered herself. She wiped spittle from her face with her ragged sleeve. The effect was unsettling. Perhaps this woman was more troubled than Honorata had realised.
The priestess continued, now in a moderated tone, as if the last few moments of fury never happened. “Sister, you must promise me that you will have nothing to do with that heretic Shankar. You must swear it. Please.” Honorata nodded meekly. “Yes, that is good. You are a humble servant of Devi and I know that you will walk the right path.”
She paced back and forth again now, although Honorata noticed a twitch in her hands as she did so. “Sister, I want you to contemplate some things. I want to send you away from this place with ideas for you to mediate upon. I want to see you again, but it is important that you think about what I have to say.”
Severa faced her now, her calm reclaimed and her cloudy eyes somehow piercing Honorata’s own.
“I want you to contemplate your relationship with Devi. Consider the nature of your prayers and your devotion. Consider whether what you do by praying and calling upon Devi brings about a change in this world. How many people have you actually healed? How many lives have you saved? Or rather, how many lives have you watched slip away while Devi stands by? Contemplate this, Sister. It is at the heart of everything that I have learned. Because there is a better way. A stronger power, within both of us. A power that is waiting to be harnessed by one who is willing.”
