The god of laughter came next. Echin-las sent peals of joy through those around him.
A goddess was next; Lianmo-ken stepped into a young woman and blessed those around her with lack of pain in childbirth.
Jinma thought that it was ridiculous to have such a specific goddess, but these were not her people.
“Threki-mal, god of fire, we invite you to take a body.”
The lid of the box flew off violently. There was no slow emergence, the column of mist flew upward and circled the candidates.
It paused above Mynos and hovered there for a moment before it turned and streaked toward Jinma. She got to her feet in shock, and the next thing she knew, she was on fire.
Shouting was the first thing that Jinma heard when the roaring in her ears subsided. Mynos was fighting against other candidates and screaming that it was supposed to be him.
She looked at him and floated through the scattering crowd. Her voice was not her own when she heard herself speak. “It was never you. You merely smelled like the body I have chosen.”
“Me. You were going to choose me.”
Jinma watched as a hand that gave off waves of heat reached out to touch Mynos’s cheek. He flinched away but kept his jaw clenched and didn’t scream.
Her finger gracefully traced a glyph on the side of his face; the skin turned red and raised but didn’t blister.
“If it scars, you belong to my priesthood; if not, you were never meant to be near the flame. If it does, you must think if you are willing to swear yourself to my service, no matter which body I wear.”
“I will never serve a thrall.” Mynos jerked his head upward.
A priest touched her elbow. “Welcome back to the world Threki-mal. This woman was not one of the candidates.”
“Interesting, and yet, she was most suitable. I believe I will have something to say about the selection process. For now, I would like my new body to have all the comforts that have been so freely offered to the other newly inhabited. Oh, and you may have this back. She does not like it.”
Jinma felt the tug and heat at her neck, the melted remains of the collar were handed to the priest in a smouldering heap. It was bizarre to feel her body moving but to have no control.
The heat in the being that was occupying her split itself into two manifestations. There was the interior fire, the intelligence that was speaking through her, and the outward fire that she could control. Well, the being inside her could control it; Jinma was just stuck watching.
The priest blinked and cupped the warped collar in his hands. “Of course, Threki-mal.”
A thick leather cloak was wrapped around her, and Jinma chuckled inside her own mind. It was lined with something that would not burn. They had known exactly what they were calling forth.
The being inside her said that it would explain what was going on at a later time, when Jinma was safe and cared for.
The final assignment of the last box was swift, and the candidate looked disappointed to be chosen.
Priests wearing shades of red led off Jinma. No one seemed to know what to say, so no one said anything.
The other four newly inhabited volunteers were sitting with their priests for a meal, but Jinma was taken through the city square and out to where a series of horses were waiting.
“Pardon the breach of protocol, but circumstances dictate that we should get on the move before a mob forms, Your Grace.”
The man speaking to her had dark hair and darker eyes. He looked to be about five years older than she was.
Jinma suddenly found herself in control as she mounted the horse. “A mob?”
The others settled on their horses as well.
“No one was expecting a female to be host to the fire god. He has never chosen a female body before. It has been... upsetting.”
Jinma settled her feet in the stirrups and nodded. “Imagine how I feel. I was expecting to be mopping floors in the temples.”
He smiled. “You can if you wish to, but it is not required.”
She snorted. “I will see how I feel in a few weeks. If I can’t fight the urge, I will let someone know.”
“Excellent answer, Your Grace.”
Jinma followed him as his mount moved ahead of her. “Where are we going?”
She was surrounded on all sides by the other fire priests.
“We are going to your temple, Your Grace. It is in the fire fields.”
The mist inside her twisted with anticipation. The words fire fields had gotten its complete attention.
They kicked their mounts into a run, and soon, they were thundering past the fields and farms that she had become used to.
When the village was a distant memory, her companion pulled up and turned toward her. “Well, Your Grace, you are certainly going to shake things up.”
“That is not my intention, and why are you calling me that? My name is Jinma.”
“My name is Acolyte Rekker. You are a host of a terrestrial power. Your Grace is a traditional form of address.”
“Call me Miss Jinma if you need to be formal. Threki-mal will make himself known when he chooses to.” She smiled briefly.
“We wait to serve him. In the meantime, do you need to rest?”
She shifted uncomfortably on the horse. “No, I want to get going. No offense but I want walls around me before the sun sets.”
The other priests looked at each other and nodded. Rekker turned, and they were on their way once again.
Her stomach was growling when they finally thudded through the gates of what had to be the fire temple. The lava fields nearby explained why the term fire fields was used to describe it.
She tried not to groan as she got off the horse. She was far more used to leading horses than riding them. It was a force of will that let her walk slowly but normally toward the temple.
Rekker was at her side, and the other priests were around her as they entered the temple.
Crossing the threshold was a bit of a shock. Beams of light struck her and hauled her upward, spinning her in a slow circle as the priests gathered below.
Threki-mal looked down through her eyes and surveyed his priests.
“I have chosen this host to serve a new purpose. Fire does not merely destroy, and I wish to bend my energies to a new mission. She is Jinma of the Broken Coast, and she has the right soul for this endeavour.”
The priests stared and some frantically wrote down all the words that Threki-mal spoke.
The power that wrapped around her singed her clothing and sent coils of smoke through the air.
She was slowly lowered to the ground, and she heard her occupant say, “Please provide her with some heat-resistant clothing.”
The priests chuckled.
One of them asked. “But, Your Grace, she is a woman.”
“She is, and yet, she will be assigned an acolyte and be taken care of as any male who would be my host. She is a different gender, not a different species.”
Jinma watched from behind her eyes as an older man in deep red robes came forward. “Threki-mal, we have never had a woman in these walls.”
“It is about time that things change. I am not the only one of my kind to want evolution in our people. I am merely the one who chose this method. Fire arrives first and last. I raze and cleanse.”
The priest inclined his head.
Jinma watched the last of her clothing fall into shreds around her. Flame wrapped her for modesty, and she cleared her throat. “I would like some of that flame-proof clothing now.”
Rekker came forward and smiled. “I offer myself as acolyte to the host.”
The older priest looked at him. “You are about to become a Master, Rekker.”
“I know, but Threki-mal has spoken to me and asked me to assist his choice. I honour my initial response. I will assist his host until her needs change.”
The elder priest nodded. “Accepted. Please take the host to his—her qu
arters. The tutors will be sent up in an hour.”
Rekker smiled at Jinma. “Your Grace, please come with me.”
Wreathed in fire, she walked with him, through the rapidly parting crowd and up step after step into a tower.
He opened wide double doors, and she stepped inside. The space was larger than the entire farmhouse she had just left.
Rekker went to the closet and pulled out a length of fabric. He scowled. “The host normally wears a simple kilt, but if you dim your flames, I should be able to help you come up with a modest configuration. I will have the weavers turn their skills to additional garments.”
She held out her hand. “Give me the fabric. I will see what I can manage.”
He held it back. “I am supposed to assist in your dressing.”
“Wonderful. You can do that once I make my clothing up.”
She snapped her fingers, and he smiled slightly but handed her the fabric.
She measured out the length that was designed to be pleated. With a measuring eye, she took the four yards of calf-length fabric, and she tore off a five-inch strip along the entire span. She wrapped the narrow fabric around her until her breasts were neatly concealed and the remainder of the fabric was wrapped and tucked around her hips.
She let the flames die out and sighed. “That is better.”
Rekker cocked his head. “It does not look that bad.”
“It was summer clothing where I came from. The winter clothing is more appropriate for this climate, but that will have to wait until I have more fabric to deal with.” She smiled slightly.
Two men carrying huge tomes came in and bowed low.
Rekker cleared his throat. “Your grace, these are your tutors. Brother Mechal and Brother Yovin will indoctrinate you into the history of Threki-mal.”
Jinma nodded. “I hope most of it is verbal. I have never managed to learn to read your languages.”
Rekker answered, “It is written in the language of the gods. Only the trained priests can read it, but we will make arrangements for you to be given language training.”
Jinma looked at the earnest faces around her and walked to the chair. “Well, let’s get started.”
The tomes thudded onto the table, and Brother Mechal explained how gods came to walk the world.
A week later, Jinma had a thorough knowledge of her place in the world and the consciousness inside her. She was asked to eat meals with the brothers in the main dining hall. Her seat at the head of the table was made out of volcanic stone and glass.
Father Obring spoke softly to her, “Well, Your Grace, it is becoming time for your memorial.”
Thankfully, she knew what he was speaking of. “Father, are you sure you want my face in the memorial hall? That is quite a leap in such a short time.”
The elder blushed. “I have come to appreciate that Threki-mal chose you for a reason.”
She chuckled and warmed the plates of the priests sitting at the table with her. They hadn’t had a cold meal since she had arrived.
Manipulating heat was a matter of practice. While Threki-mal could do it without thinking, for Jinma to manage it, she had to focus. The mundane tasks that she performed were practice that had helped her gain familiarity with the new being inside her. Rekker was an excellent acolyte. He scheduled her time and made the arrangements for her new clothing.
“I am glad you think so, because I need the brothers to begin study of current events within two days’ ride.”
Father Obring looked nervous. “Why?”
“Because the god within me wants to be a god of action. He does not wish to remain in the temple and live a life of contemplation. He wishes to be remembered by more than just his name. Fire, forges, volcanoes, it is all in his purview, but he wants more. Fire can cleanse after a plague, it can remove a blight, clear fields, change the weather. It is so much more than melting and destruction.”
The priests at her table were staring; Rekker was smiling. It was something that she had shared with him during their briefings.
Father Obring nodded. “Of course, we can devote a few priests to researching such events.”
“Good. I want a report in three days. Talk to the god of gossip if you have to, but find me something to do.” She inclined her head.
The priests returned to their meal, but she could feel their interest in something that wasn’t the normal chanting and feeding the sacred fire.
The temple received offerings from the local villages. They also tended their own crops and winery in the lush volcanic soil. Their lives were quiet and ruled by the heat of the volcano. Ritual and routine saw them through the day.
Their god was about to turn their routine on its head.
Jinma was sitting in silent meditation, her sleeveless dress was folded neatly around her knees and her sash kept her back straight. It was a clothing choice as close to what she would have been wearing at home, if home still existed. She had learned about the Broken Lands in the history lessons. Threki-mal had been opposed to the attack on her people, but he didn’t have any influence outside of the continuous land mass his people occupied. Fire could not travel over water, so his vote was to leave it alone. Unfortunately, Threki-mal had been in the minority, the other gods had sent their people to gain slaves and riches.
Jinma still remembered being hauled onto the ship and cowering with the other children. Children were all that they took. The adults were dead on their own soil. No riches had been found. Whatever they had been before, the land was broken now.
She pushed the dark thoughts aside and accepted Threki-mal’s commiseration. He felt for her loss. He had lost thousands of close friends and family over the years through his hosts. He literally knew her pain.
She turned her head when she heard the footfalls in the chamber.
Rekker spoke with the newcomers and then walked toward her, kneeling next to her. “They have found a situation that seems to fit your requirements, Your Grace.”
Jinma rose to her feet. “Get four priests, horses, supplies and enough water for five days.”
“Don’t you want to know what the situation is?”
Threki-mal took her over. “If it requires fire, it is time to do it.”
The priests with the scrolls stood nervously when she approached them. Jinma felt fire wreathing her body. “Tell me.”
The priests opened the scroll, and to Threki-mal’s delight, there was a list of no less than nine situations in which he could use his power for the population.
“Acolyte, make the arrangements. I am going to set my monument in place before we leave. Jinma deserves to be remembered.”
Rekker nodded. Jinma watched as Threki-mal walked her over to the empty podium at the edge of the balcony over the volcano. Together, they summoned a column of molten stone and crafted it into an image of Jinma with her arms outstretched and her body aflame. She was decently dressed with her clothing flaring along with the flames. It was quite the dramatic pose.
When the creating was finished, Jinma looked to the other memorials, and they were all far more passive and many were naked. She wasn’t quite up to that kind of confidence.
The stone was cooling, and she was a little proud that black glass was her stone of choice.
Jinma walked to the edge of the memorial balcony and stared down at the molten stone. Far below it churned and twisted, forming images in the bright glow as it came from the depths beneath.
Threki-mal came into her mind and they spoke.
Are you ready for this, Jinma?
Of course. Everything else that I had planned for my future disappeared in blood. At least I can move forward with this.
I cannot replace your past, but I can blur it.
No! That is part of what makes me, me. I know where I came from and that shapes me today.
Excellent. I am glad. It is why you were the one who was chosen; you are formed from the centre outward.
I will burn lo
nger.
There was a pause while Threki-mal seemed to work out an answer. You will burn the longest.
It was enough of an answer. The hosts of the fire god usually burned out in less than five years. Threki-mal was hoping she would last longer. Frankly, Jinma was hoping the exact same thing.
Rekker cleared his throat from the safety of the hall behind the balcony. “Your Grace, it is time for the evening meal.”
She nodded. “On my way, Rekker.”
Jinma walked out of the heat and over to his side. “Are you ready for what is about to begin?”
“I look forward to it. He spoke to me in my dreams months ago and told me to take my place as your acolyte. So far, I have no regrets.” He smirked.
“He told me. The god of fire is a chatty individual.” She grinned.
“His allowing you to speak your mind is part of the changes, by the way. In the past, he has taken over his host and lived his life through them. He has never been in a woman before. He had no idea what to expect.”
Jinma smirked. “He still doesn’t, but as long as he tries to act to help those around him, I will go along with him all the way.”
They walked into the dining hall, and he held her chair for her before taking his place at her left hand. The father sat at her right. When she sat, the rest sat, and when she broke the bread, the meal began.
The brothers each muttered thanks to the fire god before taking their first bite, but she could just get started.
When the meal was concluded, Father Obring cleared his throat. “Your Grace, I hear that you will be travelling tomorrow.”
“I will. I hope to be back in nine days, but Threki-mal will keep an eye on things here.”
The father smiled. “He always does. Well, I will wish you well at dawn. I would say I would give you a blessing, but that will not be necessary.”
“It will not, but I thank you for the thought.”
“Where will you go?”
“The brothers have located some crop blights and a plague or two. I will do what I can.”
“I look forward to hearing of your successes. The brothers are preparing new books for your histories.”
Romancing the Sweet Side Page 24
