Post by Lucien de Clairmont on Jul 23, 2008 15:40:58 GMT -5
I had visited Camael’s sanctuary first, to thank him for bringing me home alive and for letting my father die with honour. I had lit incense at our little shrine in Clairmont, but I wanted to do it properly as well in the City. My father deserved that much and more, especially on the first anniversary of his death.
Then I had ridden to Shemhazai's sanctuary. It had been an odd visit, their eyes looking askance at the blade hanging at my side. I handed the worn sheath over to the acolyte without a word. This was a place of knowledge, not of violence. Besides, I still had my knife.
I had lit my incense and had stepped back with my head bowed. I prayed to be able to lead Siovale in a manner befitting its people. My people. When I stood, a priestess came forward. I knew her immediately, her face unforgettable for a teenaged fosterling visiting Shemhazai’s temple for the first time.
“It has been a long time my lady,” I said, sketching a bow.
“Long in events, if nothing else.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were searching. She was as beautiful now as she had been thirteen years ago. “You did not move like a soldier then.” When I didn’t respond, just stood still underneath her scrutiny, she spoke again. “Do you think like a soldier as well?”
My mouth thinned. “I am what I am my lady. This was not an honour I sought.”
Her eyes flashed with the beginnings of anger. “Then what do you seek now?” It was almost a demand.
I spoke without thinking, just letting honesty guide my tongue. “Guidance, to be able to do my people right. And mayhap a bit of grace for when I make a mistake.”
There was a long pause, and her eyes softened. “Then may Shemhazai’s blessing be upon you Lucien,” she said quietly. “I hope for all our sakes that your prayers are answered.”
Then I had ridden to Shemhazai's sanctuary. It had been an odd visit, their eyes looking askance at the blade hanging at my side. I handed the worn sheath over to the acolyte without a word. This was a place of knowledge, not of violence. Besides, I still had my knife.
I had lit my incense and had stepped back with my head bowed. I prayed to be able to lead Siovale in a manner befitting its people. My people. When I stood, a priestess came forward. I knew her immediately, her face unforgettable for a teenaged fosterling visiting Shemhazai’s temple for the first time.
“It has been a long time my lady,” I said, sketching a bow.
“Long in events, if nothing else.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes were searching. She was as beautiful now as she had been thirteen years ago. “You did not move like a soldier then.” When I didn’t respond, just stood still underneath her scrutiny, she spoke again. “Do you think like a soldier as well?”
My mouth thinned. “I am what I am my lady. This was not an honour I sought.”
Her eyes flashed with the beginnings of anger. “Then what do you seek now?” It was almost a demand.
I spoke without thinking, just letting honesty guide my tongue. “Guidance, to be able to do my people right. And mayhap a bit of grace for when I make a mistake.”
There was a long pause, and her eyes softened. “Then may Shemhazai’s blessing be upon you Lucien,” she said quietly. “I hope for all our sakes that your prayers are answered.”