Lovers and Beloveds

by MeiLin Miranda

  Colonel Jenks and Teacher came in not long after, the former in a hastily-donned and rumpled coat, the latter as smooth as ever. "Where is my son?" said the King.

  "Where is he? He's off to Whithorse! The old crow took him," said Jenks with a jerk of the thumb at Teacher. "Outright refused to take me with him, said he wouldn't need me. It's time we told him what I am, sir. I can no longer insist on my presence in--in some situations."

  "We both know Whithorse security is up to the task," said Harsin, "but we both know that's not where he is." He measured the Colonel's unfeigned look of surprise, and turned toward Teacher. "Tell me where he is and how he got there. I order you."

  "I took him to the Lovers' Temple, as he requested."

  "Show me."

  Teacher paused, then murmured at the mirror over the mantel. A foggy image formed of a great bath: men and women milling about in various degrees of nakedness; towel-wrapped heads just visible above the surface of a steaming pool. The image moved closer to a naked, golden-haired young man covered in soap and sitting on a stool. The most beautiful young man Harsin had ever seen was dumping buckets of water over the other's head. Temmin--for once the suds were gone, it was clearly him--spluttered under the stream, though Harsin couldn't hear him. A last bucket poured over him, and once he'd shaken off the water, a buxom young woman Harsin recognized as the current Supplicant of the Lovers pulled Temmin off the stool, threw a towel over his head, and vigorously dried his hair, kissing his laughing face at the end.

  "I gather you didn't know, Colonel Jenks?" said Harsin.

  "No," said Jenks slowly.

  "I believe you. It would appear that our boy has become a man capable of lying to almost anyone." The King sank into his chair, the leather creaking. "Teacher, when I said take him to his lovers--you know very well what I meant!"

  "But that is not what you said," replied Teacher. "I regret that my lessons in precision of speech--"

  "I would call down Pagg's curse on your head, but it's too late for that, isn't it?" snapped the King. "You're dismissed, Colonel. No, no, not for good," he added at the tightening of the man's broad jaw. "For the evening. Go on."

  In the doorway, Winmer stepped aside to let the Colonel pass, then closed the door behind him. "Miss Selvaci is asleep, sir," he said to the pacing King. "She'd entertained herself quite well at the ball already. I've instructed one of the upstairs maids to nurse her through tomorrow's expected hangover."

  "He's gone, Winmer. Slipped through our fingers," said Harsin, watching his feet as he paced slowly back and forth.

  Winmer bounced on his toes, thinking. "You could still force him out. Send Teacher to Whithorse, bring those two servants back--"

  "You said that girl was reliable."

  "Indeed, sir, but we underestimated his determination. They can still be of use, though. Have Teacher bring them back. We can use them as leverage against the Prince. If he thought them in immediate peril...?"

  "He cares about them enough to shield them. True." Harsin stopped pacing and ran through the possible scenarios in his head.

  Two deaths to possibly save the kingdom. Harsin had killed more men than that in battle with his own hands, and caused the deaths of thousands more in Inchar. But those were Inchari, stubbornly refusing what was good for them. These were Tremontines, and innocents. The prophecy might be wrong, or the Scholars of Eddin might be interpreting it incorrectly.

  "If he balks, the death of the young man and a sword at the throat of the young woman would bring him to heel quickly," said Winmer. "Do it in the Great Hall of the Temple. Teacher can take us there without anyone knowing."

  Teacher's silver eyes radiated contempt. "I am the servant of the King, except when I am the servant of the Gods. No outsider may enter a closed Temple without an invitation, and the Lovers' Temple is closed until the Spectacle tomorrow." Teacher pointedly turned away from Winmer to the King. "You have come perilously close to outright disrespect, Your Majesty, astonishing from a man who does not believe but knows what the Gods can do. Have I taught you so poorly? Have you paid no attention all these years to the Gods made manifest over and over in your life?" At Harsin's shaken expression, Teacher added, "It comes down to this, Your Majesty. You fear for the Kingdom's fate. Will you murder two innocents on the steps of a Temple, and perhaps bring down an even worse one?"

  "No," whispered Harsin, dropping his head. Winmer rocked on his heels in disapproval. Harsin raised his eyes to his secretary. "But if Temmin knows I'm aware of his deception, the threat of murder might be my only recourse. You," he said, glaring at Teacher. "Find my son's spurious lovers--no, let's be exact, shall we, Winmer?"

  "Arta Dannikson and Fen Wallek, sir," said the secretary.

  "Find Dannikson and Wallek. Bring them here to the Keep. Do it now. Is that specific enough?"

  "Yes, Your Majesty," said Teacher, with only a hint of reluctance in departing through the mirror.

  Freshly bathed, Temmin pulled on his new Temple garb--red, the color of the postulant Lovers, a happier, somehow less serious shade than the official Tremontine red garb he wore the last time he was at the Temple. "Will I see the Holy Ones again before tomorrow?" he asked over a late supper with Anda in the Supplicants Chamber.

  She put her wine glass down and replied, "No. You won't be seeing them until it's time to draw down the Gods tomorrow night. It's not at all an easy thing, you know, Tem."

  "Allis says it's something like being a puppet."

  "I am happy to say I don't know," said Anda. "I only know what it looks like, and frankly, that's enough. It's exhausting. The twins'll only be able to serve ten years or so. Most of the Embodiments serve at least twenty, but they only take on their Gods once a year. Ours do it twice a year, in quick succession. By the time the Gods were through with Idia and Hendas, the last Embodiments, they were spent. They're still at the Temple in Kellen, I think, just taking the sea air and resting the last two years. They chose me, you know. I miss them," she said, looking off into memory. She came back to the room. "It's so tiring we treat the serving Holy Ones like glass for a whole spoke afterwards, even Allis and Issak, young and fresh. No one sees them."

  "Even me?" said Temmin, who to his surprise hadn't seen them since Teacher had unceremoniously dumped him in Issak's sitting room three hours ago.

  "Oh, no. You'll see them. Just don't expect much. You'll be training with the Postulants anyway."

  "I've been wondering--who will be watching tomorrow? In the crowds, I mean. It's--it's not all nobility, is it?" he winced, thinking of Litta; he wasn't sure if the sight of that white scar among the onlookers would frighten him or anger him.

  "Social standing doesn't matter, here or in any Temple, you know. We hold lotteries. All are equal before the Gods, at least on Spectacle days--except virgins. No virgins at Neya's Day. And royalty. Royalty's expected. And then this year, there's extra precautions because of you. When royalty stays up on the dais where it belongs--"

  A loud to-do in the Great Hall erupted outside their door. A Temple's Own knocked briefly and thrust his head inside. "Your Highness," he said, "you'd better come. The King is on the steps, calling for you."

  Temmin shook the crumbs from his clothes, still indifferent when it came to tidiness at mealtime, and strode from the room behind the warrior Lover, a small cadre of Temple's Own forming around him as he walked. In every corner, servants and clergy filled the Great Hall, cleaning and polishing in a frenzy. No worshippers were in sight for the first time in Temmin's brief experience; everyone was barred from the Temple but staff until the doors opened for the celebrations the next evening.

  Temmin and his guard emerged onto the rosy marble steps. The air was cold; he could see his breath. Halfway up stood his father, flanked himself by Royal Guardsmen in a respectful standoff with a line of Temple's Own. A few steps behind him stood that dratted Winmer with a small knot of others including, to his surprise, Teacher. Behind them gathered a small crowd made up mostly of late visitors to the Healer'
s House across the Promenade, drawn by the unexpected martial sounds at the Lovers' Temple.

  Temmin drew a deep breath, hoping to quell his shaking. "Well?" he called down, with a creditable attempt at bravado.

  "Well, indeed," said Harsin. "I've come to take you back."

  "I don't think so. This is my choice, and I've made it. You can't come in and cart me off bodily. No one's allowed in tonight."

  "He's right. Pagg's Law, sir," murmured Brother Mardus at his side.

  "Do not think to lecture your King on Pagg's Law," snapped Harsin. "Even were it an ordinary night, I would not dream of defiling this Temple--any Temple--by bringing Guards into it to cart you or anyone else off bodily. You will walk out on your own."

  "Will I," said Temmin, his temper rising.

  "Don' you do it, sir!" a young woman called in a sweet, familiar voice. "Don' you do it! If we come to harm, that's as it should be!"

  Torches had finally been brought, and a young man's flaming red hair blazed plain in their light. Fen flexed against the Guards pinning his arms back, but made no move; they held Arta far too tightly for him to risk it.

  Who had betrayed them? Jenks didn't know where he was going, and fully believed Arta and Fen were his lovers; Ellika knew they weren't, but had no idea he'd decided to join the Temple and wouldn't have stopped him if she had. That left Teacher; he glared into the strange silvery eyes. Teacher didn't look away, and gave a barely visible shake of the head, as if knowing Temmin's mind.

  "I'm not for the idea of us dyin in general," said Fen, "but I don' beg anyone for anything, and I'd rather die than be damned. This whole thing is blasphemy, and I want no part in it. Go ahead, sir, and let the Guards be damned, not us!" At this, the men holding him shifted uncomfortably, looking at one another and then at the Temples surrounding them.

  "You'd kill them to stop me?" said Temmin to his father. "You'd place their deaths on your soul?"

  "We are King, Temmin. We do what we must, and we must stop you. Their deaths will be on you if you don't come down from there."

  "You speak to me as if I'm a child up in a tree!"

  "When you act like a child, I'll speak to you like one!" roared Harsin.

  By now, the Most Highs had joined the flock of Lovers and Beloveds at the top of the stairs, Gan leaning on Senik in his sleepiness. "What do you wish to do, Your Highness?" said Gan.

  Steel glinted against Arta's throat, and in Temmin's imagination red bloomed against the white of her skin. But here and now, the steel wavered ever so slightly. He cast about for anything he could draw upon for guidance. He thought of Jenks: "Who are you more afraid of? The Gods, or your father?" Now that he feared for two innocents, not for himself, he wasn't sure.

  What would Warin do? He would try to rally the Guard to his side, but as his ancestor had discovered, their bond to the crowned king was stronger than their bond to justice.

  Senik said he knew nothing about reading people, that inborn talent notwithstanding, inexperience doomed Temmin's attempts to do it. Even so, it was all he had, and he studied the King, calling on everything he knew about his father. Harsin was angry, that much was clear. But he'd seen his father angry before. This time, a desperation tinted his voice. The question was, would his desperation lead him to do something horrible, something unforgivable, something that would both damn him and destroy the nascent ties between him and his son; he had to know that if he killed Temmin's friends, it would be the end of any intimacy between them. It might already be too late, he thought, tasting bile.

  Silence filled the Promenade. Temmin finally said, "Fen, Arta, are you sure?"

  "Yes," said Fen, speaking for them both in a voice choked with emotion. "I would go to the Hill for you, sir." Arta nodded vigorously, unable to form words, the curls at her forehead bobbing and tears coursing down her face. The dagger at her throat openly trembled.

  Temmin turned to the Most Highs. "I'm staying." Each word appeared in a white puff before him, expanded and dissolved.

  "Very well, then. Take your first vow," said High Beloved Malla, her voice filled with a power he hadn't suspected the gentle priestess possessed. "Crouch down before us. Now, put one hand beneath your feet, and the other atop your head." Temmin kept his balance until he looked up at the priests and began to wobble. "Say: All between my hands I give to the Lovers for a span of two years and two days."

  Temmin took a deep breath, looked straight at his father, and said, "All...all between my hands I give to the Lovers for a span of two years and two days." Everyone--the Guards, the Temple's Own, the Most Highs, his father, the crowd below--exhaled, a long, surprised sigh, and he rose to his feet.

  "No more 'Your Highness' will you hear in this Temple," said the High Lover. "You are now as a Postulant, no more, for the first year. You will address us always as Most High, and the Embodiments always as Holy One. You will obey your superiors immediately, and that includes all sworn Lovers and Beloveds. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Most High," said Temmin. His ears rang, and unexpected tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He had never broken Harsin's gaze, and said now, "Do what you must, Father."

  "Sir," said Winmer in an urgent undertone, "a crowd has formed. Do what you must."

  Harsin trembled with rage and glared up at the assembly on the landing. "You have brought doom on this kingdom, Temmin," he said in a low voice. He mastered himself, stood straighter and turned to face Arta and Fen, and by extension the crowd below, already agitated in uncertain joy. "Neya's Day is a time for love and celebration," he said, an artificial smile in his voice. "We rejoice with you at Prince Temmin's instatement as Supplicant of the Lovers' Temple!" He turned back, and once out of the cheering crowd's sight, his face contorted. "There will be many unprecedented changes in store for this Temple, I'm sure!" With that, he descended with his escort and rode up the Promenade toward the city's center, leaving Fen, Arta and Teacher alone on the steps.

  Arta swayed as if ready to drop; Fen caught her in his arms, even though he himself looked faint. "It's all right, we're alive, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair. "We're alive."

  Temmin ran down and embraced Fen and Arta, then turned to Teacher. "Is there any reason you can't take them back to Whithorse?" he said.

  "None in the world."

  "Perhaps they might like a cup of something hot first?" called the High Beloved.

  "Something stronger, I think," replied Temmin. He stayed Teacher as the other two climbed the steps into the Temple, and said, "Did you betray me?"

  "I have helped you in this matter time and again," said Teacher. "Why would I try to thwart your ambition now?" The pale, smooth face, usually so empty of anything but intelligence, beamed.

  "Then who did?" said Temmin earnestly, one hand on Teacher's shoulder. "Who was it?"

  "I do not know, but I am extremely invested in finding out, Your Highness. Now, go on. They are waiting for you."

  Despite Anda's light, musical snoring in the alcove bed across the room from him, Temmin slept late on Neya's Day. Or at least, he assumed he had; the Supplicants Chamber had no windows. Anda's bed was now empty and made, and his only gauge of time was his roaring appetite. With his breakfast, he learned that he had in fact slept until lunch, "A good thing on the whole, as it'll be a long night, with little sleep for anyone and much exercise for everyone," smirked Senik.

  All Temmin knew about the upcoming ritual was this:

  There was to be some sort of trial for Allis and Issak to bring down the Lovers, something that might be painful for them, or perhaps it was the presence of the Gods Themselves that was painful. He and Senik and one of the senior Lovers, a man called Barik, would help Issak prepare for it, though the preparations were obscure to him.

  There would be a Chase. Neya and Nerr would run until the Brother caught the Sister. It would end as it did in the Sagas, with lovemaking. The people would pass by one at a time to watch Them and receive the blessing, then find a corner of the gardens to imitate their Gods; everyw
here, all over the kingdom, over much of the world, people with no chance of seeing the Gods in this life would do the same, going out into the fields and gardens to ensure their fertility. Temmin was to help hold the people back until the Gods were satisfied.

  There would be some kind of acknowledgment of his dedication as Supplicant, and he was to follow the Gods back into Their bedchamber, a room used only when They were in residence, as it were. Neya would take his virginity and that would be an end to the ceremony as far as he knew.

  With this scanty knowledge in mind, Temmin made his way to the gardens, already filled with worshippers waiting for the Chase. The Most Highs sat in state on a dais above the crowds. Beside them, rigid and fidgeting, sat his mother.

  He climbed the stairs quickly, and sank down on his knees before her. "What are you doing here?" he cried, taking her hands. "I'm happy to see you, truly, Mama, but I'm very surprised."

  Ansella gave him a shaky, rather liquid smile. "The pious parent attends the investiture of a child into a Temple, sweetheart, no matter how I myself feel about..." She stole a glance at the Most Highs, who graciously pretended deafness.

  "You heard what happened last night," said Temmin. "He's not making it hard on you, or Jenks, or Teacher?"

  "Your father is putting a brave face on it. He has decided it is more politic to downplay the significance of 'Nerr getting the Heir.' The commoners, however, are jubilant." She nodded at the milling crowds, most gazing happily up at him, some bowing reverently. "As for consequences at the Keep, as soon as Teacher returned from Whithorse, he was confined to his Tower. That's the only good thing that came of it. Col--Jenks is under suspicion of helping you, as am I now that I've come here--I couldn't let you do this alone, with none of your family here to witness! Sister Ibbit didn't want me here, and neither did your father, but they couldn't stop me from attending Temple." She sighed. "You were wise to send your friends to the Estate. I've never seen Harsin so angry, or so frightened. I wouldn't come home for a good while, my dear."