The initiate, her chosen porter, and Ärlig’s things all arrived at his spot on the dock at about the same time. To Ärlig’s distaste, the redhead had chosen a muscle-bound young man, who looked like he may well have been a relative of one of Toros’s Chosen Ones. That Exile was a member of the Zodiac Lords and had the head of a bull, the body of a man, and was known for his strength and lustiness. People would pray or sacrifice to him for help in those sorts of areas. His Chosen Ones were all men and had heads like bulls, just like their Lord, and huge muscles when Toros got done changing them. When these Chosen Ones had offspring, the babies were usually boys, not very fair of face, but always early to mature and muscle-bound when they did. The porter following the redheaded initiate fit that description fairly well. Ärlig couldn’t help but wonder if the initiate had chosen this porter because he appealed to her in more ways than one. It wouldn’t be the first time that the slight-of-build Ärlig had lost out to a stouter, stronger man. Though it was usually one of his brothers, Stark or Begåvad, who swept in and stole away the interesting prize he had brought home to woo.
The porter grabbed all of Ärlig’s bags with ease and stood waiting for two blue-robed Airians to lead the way. “Well then, let’s be off, my daughter.” Ärlig couldn’t help but let a little of his resentment for her choice of the muscle-bound porter slip into his voice.
“Of course, Father. So sorry, I’m sure you want to get the College as quickly as possible,” replied the initiate, a little flustered at Bishop Ullwitt’s tone of voice. Not as daunted as she could have been, she tried to strike up a conversation as they made their way off of the skyship dock and into the main part of the High City. “So Father, I don’t mean to pry, but how did such a young man as yourself become a bishop? Have you been in the service of the mighty and gracious Prince since you were a babe?”
This was more like it, thought Ärlig. A properly curious question, perhaps she was interested in him after all. “I did start earlier than most, but I have been promoted because of aptitude, skill, and service to our Lord and Master,” replied Ärlig, nodding up toward the huge, towering statue of the Prince of the Air, which crowned the green hillock in the center of the High City. It could be seen from almost anywhere in city, unless the observer was right behind one of the larger buildings.
“What kind of service, Father? I am trying to work my way up by serving the Church any way that I can.” She gave Ärlig a demure glance of her green eyes from behind her red curls as she said it.
There was no way he could misunderstand, and it took him a moment to answer her question. Clearing his throat, he replied, “I helped in the discovery and capture, in my home city, of over twenty of the rebellious sect that calls themselves the Sojourners.” Ärlig did not mention that he discovered them all by following his older brother, Vänlig Ullwitt, to different meetings of the different groups over a month. He could not help but think, Boy, had that made for a rough couple of nights at the dinner table.
Whenever there was a raid, Ärlig had made sure Vänlig escaped. It was a desire to keep the family name of Ullwitt out of the affair, and not loyalty or love. The older brother must have gotten Ärlig’s share of both those characteristics. Vänlig would certainly prove he had a double share in the future under a tower trying to protect his granddaughter, Ingrid.
“Twenty? My goodness, wasn’t that dangerous?” she asked, eyes wide with awe, feigned or genuine Ärlig couldn’t tell.
“We didn’t capture them all at once, it was only a few at a time.” They had actually gone and arrested the women and children while the men were at work and then waited for the men to turn themselves in. Ärlig was amazed than any of the men had turned themselves in at all. Of course, they had been mistakenly expecting their womenfolk and children to be released when they came in. Fools. The old Bishop in Skysend was a clever man, Ärlig would give him that.
“Well, good riddance I say.” The girl had a fiery look in her eyes that almost matched her hair. Ärlig had to admit, he was pretty taken with her hair. There weren’t any of the Sons or Daughters of Zeffo in Skysend to speak of, so their appearance was quite striking to him. He knew he would need to get used to seeing all kinds of everyone in the Pillar of Heaven since, “All skyships sail to the Pillar,” as the old saying went.
“You hold no love for that ridiculous little cult I see. Why is that, my daughter? Good doctrine or is it personal?” They were zigging and zagging down streets and around huge, ornate buildings that would have caught anyone’s eye, if they were in any other city but this one. Here, they were just one more fancy building in the shadow of the Prince of the Air’s temple.
“Because my idiot parents went and joined them not six months after I entered our Lord and Master’s service,” she hissed in almost a whisper.
“I see,” was all Ärlig answered.
“And now,” she said, through clenched teeth, “It is going to be ten times as hard to make it up the ranks with everyone questioning my loyalty.” Here, her face melted into a thoughtful look followed by a little, controlled smile, “Unless I find someone to be my patron and take a special interest in me.” She finished by turning toward Ärlig and looking at him for a moment, before breaking into a broad, warm smile that set off fireworks in the Bishop’s midsection for a moment.
Ärlig had seen women look at Stark like that before. He’d seen them look at Begåvad like that before too. None of them had ever looked at him that way, not even the servant girls. But, Stark and Begåvad weren’t here to outmuscle or talk him now. Plus, the Church was more influential and powerful here than back home, and he had the Prince’s eye painted on his forehead. Perhaps, in the Pillar of Heaven, Ärlig would be winning in more ways than one.
Zeffon 28-25ε-30ξς
College of Bishops, Acropolis, The Pillar of Heaven
Dear Brothers,
I am truly sorry to hear that the Bishop of Skysend split the order for cloaks between Ullwit and Bjornson. You know how those provincial bishops can be, so stuck in their own little world, trying to please all the locals. But, don’t worry. You’ll be happy to hear that I have almost secured a position for Stark with the Black Legion of Bellikar. You’ll have to go through their academy in Swordforge, I couldn’t get you past that. But, you’ll come out of there in a year or two as a leader of your own group of soldiers. I’m not sure what they call it in the Black Legion, but it will be much like your captaincy now, but with much more chance for battle, glory, and advance. Perhaps, you could even become one of the Lord of War’s Immortals.
Speaking of advancing, I have already gone from the white painted eye to the yellow. This is quite a rapid achievement for a bishop in the college, I am told by Father Djorna. He is quite a friendly old man, and he has taken a keen interest in me. I will do my best to stay on his good side, as he is well thought of by the others in my training house. He has even gotten me lined up for some truly exciting and interesting jobs over the coming two months. The first is at the 5th Customs House for a month and a half. This is a possibly lucrative position, if I can qualify to spend one of my years there. For the two other weeks, I will be doing something that very, very few clergy get to do. I will be watching the Door. If you have forgotten your Princeday school lessons, I will remind you.
The Door is one of the great mysteries of the Pillar of Heaven. It is said to resemble all sorts of different doors, one at a time, changing at random intervals it seems. It is under the Prince’s Great Temple in the middle of the city, and no one but a select few of the clergy ever get to see it. There are all sorts of guesses about it. I will write you more when I have seen it for myself.
Father Djorna has said that I may even be a candidate to become an acolyte in the Princepts. There aren’t many bishops who also make it into the Princepts, I can tell you that. I would be on the fast track to great things if I can make it into that Order too.
Yours, Ärlig
Ärlig woke next to Fionna, the red-headed initiate who had met him tha
t first day at the skyship docks. It was early, but the anticipation had been waking him throughout the night. Today was the day that he would begin his two-week assignment at the Door.
As he pulled on the proper vestments for this auspicious duty, he looked down at where the lowly initiate was still asleep. He felt a familiar surge of heat and emotion in his gut at the sight of her. In another man that emotion might boil up into his chest, but for Ärlig it never got so high. He was sure that he loved Fionna, whatever that meant. He certainly felt immensely differently about her than he had about any of the others. Though, the others had all been rather plain servant girls compared to this beauty. But a little nagging idea had begun to accompany any thoughts about this initiate. Surely she was just using him to help herself move up the ladder of the Church. No one else had taken her in because she was tainted with Sojourner filth by her parents’ conversion. He was just picking up what everyone else had already passed over, or worse, discarded. How long had she been in the Prince’s service? Had she had any other ‘patrons’ before Ärlig? Finally, he resolved that he would ask her when he got back, but now was not the time.
He slipped out into the hallway of the College quietly. Fionna would be sneaking back to the initiate’s quarters in a little while, but that was just for appearances. Ärlig had already had a talk with the priest that was in charge of the initiates for the College and made sure his little pet wouldn’t get in trouble for her service to him. Even as an Ivory Bishop, which his white eye mark had signified, Ärlig had far outranked the priest. Ärlig’s recent promotion to a yellow-adorned Brass Bishop confirmed for him that there were no ill effects coming his way because of this little arrangement. Of course, a few extra silver coins sent the priest’s way from the spoils of Ärlig’s first customs house stent helped.
That assignment had turned out to be quite profitable materially. This next one with the Door would not, but it held such mystery that there was much prestige to be had from having been a watchman. Ärlig knew that he was balancing resource acquisition between material wealth and indicators of churchly status. If he could collect enough of both and probably a few favors as well, the Order of the Holy Princepts might just open its doors to him.
The newly elevated Brass Bishop walked quietly down the hallway of the College and followed a few twists and turns, past others’ quarters, libraries, studies, and classrooms. Space inside the mount was limited, so the ceiling was a little lower and the halls narrower than in a normal building, but lighting was not limited. Every few paces, a small crystal dangling inside a golden wire cage glowed like a bright candle near the ceiling. These little devices were called the Prince’s Illuminators and were crafted by Princepts who were also stonewrights. They could be charged by any Blessed with their gift. It was some secret technique of the Princepts given to them by the Prince himself that allowed the crystals to turn any Blessing into light, though they would eventually burn out after a handful of charges. They were quite a lucrative product for the Church.
There were other sources of lighting created by Blesseds, but they all gave off heat along with the light or produced actual flames with the attendant dangers. Well, except for those wretched St. Petros’s Lights, admitted Ärlig as he thought over the topic along his walk. St. Petros’s Lights gave off no heat, and unlike the Prince’s Illuminators, St. Petros’s Lights never burnt out. It was like those things had some sort of tap into infinite ouranic power inside them. Of course the only man who could ever make them was now dead at the hands of the Church of the Air, so they weren’t really competition anymore. Ärlig chuckled to himself at the thought of the fate of that old Sojourner “saint” Petros. That had been long ago, in the very beginning of the Sojourner cult, but the Church had recognized the danger right away. Too bad they hadn’t managed to stomp out the heretics back then.
“Oh well, more fun for me, I guess,” mumbled Ärlig to himself, as he came into the front entry room of the College.
A smiling, older round man raised his eyebrow at Ärlig as he entered. “What was that you were saying my dear Bishop?”
“Oh, hello Father Djorna, I was just thinking about Church history. I didn’t think you’d beat me here this morning. I couldn’t sleep and I’ve been twisting and turning all night in anticipation.”
“I hope you didn’t keep your little pet up as well. Initiates have a lot of duties to attend to during the day as well.” Father Djorna gave a mischievous look to the Northman.
Ärlig blushed furiously. He had no idea that anyone but the priest in charge of the initiates knew about Fionna.
The older man continued, “Of course, I know about the redhead, though I can’t say that I was happy to see your preference in the matter.”
Ärlig’s mind stumbled for an answer, he was sure Father Djorna was talking about Fionna’s association with Sojourners. It was a problem that had been bothering Ärlig more and more lately.
“But, I think I’ll bring you around to my way of thinking on these things sometime or another.” The older clergyman gave a wolfish grin that just heaped more confusion onto Ärlig’s flailing brain.
“You really should be more discreet about such things, young Bishop. No reason to give any rivals ammunition, you know.” The round older man’s expression was back to a genial smile. “But enough practical advice for this hour of the morning. I was excited last night as well. The Door is one of the greatest mysteries granted to our Church to guard and, one hopes, to unravel. The chance to be in the same room and watch it is exhilarating, even to someone like myself who has seen it more than a hundred times. Let us head up to the chamber.”
Ärlig followed the older man’s bright, ornate sky blue robes out the door of the College into the common hall of the space inside the mount. Father Djorna was a Cerulean, the rank above archbishop who sat together to select the Prince’s Prince when the time came. Father Djorna was one of the three Ceruleans in charge of the College of Bishops. It was his interest in Ärlig and his influence that gave the young Skysender such hope for advancement in the Church. The only thing that would have been better was if Djorna had been a Princept as well. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Eventually, Ärlig would have to find another patron, if he was going to realize his ambitions for that Order.
Father Djorna led his younger charge out into the passageways of the interior of the mount. Only clergy could access these areas, and it was too early for most. The Cerulean lead the bishop upstairs, through doors locked with more than physical bolts and bars, around circling passages, and finally up to one last set of what looked like solid gold doors. Ärlig examined the ornate and beautiful relief sculptures on each of the panels of the doors as Father Djorna recited some incantations and moved his hands in precise patterns over crystals set into the door in place of handles.
The panels told a familiar story. The first showed objects streaking down from the Heavens to the Earth. Large bird-shaped creatures dominated the second panel. The third showed larger man shapes that Ärlig knew were Exiles, smaller men, and the large bird-shaped creatures fighting on the slopes of a mountain. The next panel showed skyships and flying lizards shooting gouts of flame at a mountaintop fortress of odd architecture. Ärlig had to admit the images were incredibly dynamic for wrought gold. The next panel showed a mountain with a huge number of what looked like tiny little people crowding near the peak. Something about the shapes told Ärlig that the peak of the mountain was growing in this picture. The next panel was the last one with a scene in it. This scene showed the flat disc of the Pillar of Heaven, its shape unmistakable though oddly free of any buildings, with a small starlike emblem floating above the dead center of the flat disk. There were small and large men shapes scattered over the disk in this last image. Below these panels, the doors were adorned with images of other doors. They were all shapes and sizes, Ärlig guessed there were perhaps a hundred or maybe more.
The bishop made to ask Father Djorna a question about the panels on the doors as the older man
finished his incantation, but the older man held up his finger to the younger man’s lips to silence him. The touch of Father Djorna’s finger on his lips sent a weird sensation echoing through Ärlig’s insides, from his mouth to his toes and back. It was the first time the older man had touched him, and it made Ärlig very uneasy. But those thoughts and feelings were swept away as the golden doors opened inward.
Ärlig and Father Djorna entered a room that was shaped like half of a large sphere with plain stone walls and a solid stone floor instead of the polished wooden floors that were common throughout the rest of the Pillar of Heaven. In the center of the room, floating above the floor with no apparent means of support, was a door. It, as well as the rest of the room, was lit extravagantly by three concentric rings of the Prince’s Illuminators set into the domed ceiling. The door looked like it was made of a heavy hardwood, like oak, and it was bound by black, wrought-iron hinges and bands. It was set into what looked like a solid silver frame that extended only a few inches from the edge of the door.
“Hmmm,” sighed the Cerulean, then he whispered almost to himself, “That is different from the last time I was here.” He turned toward one of the six tables that sat at equal intervals around the circumference of the room, and walked toward the clergywoman sitting there. The tables happened to be occupied by four women and two men at this early morning moment, but this wasn’t indicative of any sort of assignment. The Church of the Air taught that men and women were equal in all respects and so made no distinctions for any role or position. Though, as it worked out, the physical tests for the Prince’s Peacemakers made those positions mostly men.
Father Djorna moved almost silently to a place behind the clergywoman and waited. Ärlig could feel the solemnity weighing him down into silence, despite all the questions that were bubbling up in his mind. Each table had a unique set of instruments or apparati on it, yet all the tables shared the same open tome, quill, and inkpot. Ärlig desperately wanted to ask what the large, gold-framed crystal mounted on an articulated stand on the table in front of the clergywoman actually did. Another table across the hemispherical room had an array of six glowing crystals, each a different hue, spinning slowly in a circle that framed that observer’s face. The other tables contained equally interesting wonders, but Ärlig was forced to hold his tongue.
Blessings and Trials (Exiles and Sojourners Book 1) Page 18
