Chapter 37: The Temple Of The Pierced Heart

In a city of a hundred thousand people, finding one specific person could be difficult. There was an artform to it that Razia found she excelled at. It was all about knowing which questions to ask and who to approach. For someone as rich but low profile as the merchant Roberto Rossi, it proved to be trickier than most. It took her three days to find out where he would be and when and to make sure she was there as well for the attempt.

It started with checking restaurants and high end clothiers, finding where they got their spices and dyes from and continuing from there. One source led to another and it wasn’t hard for her to flash a winning smile or part with a few shards for the information. It wasn’t that it was hard. It wasn’t. It was more time consuming than anything, and time was something they were swiftly running out of. On the third day of searching, Razia discovered that Roberto Rossi would spend the next day, Temple Day in Orchrisus, at the temple of the Pierced Heart.

All throughout the city, there were temples to the gods. Temples and businesses with adjacent worship centers, depending on the god in question. Wedding chapels and midwives were often the domain of the Hearthmother, goddess of marriage and families and the home. Libraries and information brokers belonged to the Whisperer, lady of knowledge, secrets, and dark places. And so on and so forth. Each of the kingdom capitals however, was home to a grand temple, the biggest and most extravagant place to worship a kingdom’s patron god. The Temple of the Pierced Heart was where Orchrisus worshiped the god/ess of love and pain, art and suffering. And it was a pain in the ass to go all the way down there.

Razia had to stop at the entrance once she arrived, tired from the trip. She had to arrive at sunset, one of the Pierced Heart’s two holy times of day and when they held services. The more pious among them worshiped at dawn, but she didn’t expect a wealthy businessman to be pious. Quite the opposite. The higher up a person went, the less respect they tended to show the gods and the more they worshiped their own cleverness and power instead. No, sunset was the perfect time, and Razia couldn’t help but be impressed at the sight before her.

The temple was an enormous structure of white marble that glittered in the sunlight. It was a wide, open place with spiraling columns and intricate sculptures of men and gods along the edge of the roof. High up in the center of the second story, there was a giant stained glass image of a heart with a rose pierced through and winding around it, and a balcony underneath where the hierophant would deliver their sermons to the faithful.

Standing in front of it made Razia realize just how tiny she was. It wasn’t the first time she’d been there, but every time was equally impressive. She found herself especially glad she wore her finest outfit and brought a gorgeous purple shawl, which along with the multicolored silks of her dress gave her the impression of wearing the sunset. She bowed her head in respect and joined the others making their way inside the temple.

The inside was even more intricately designed than the outside. On the ceiling was a fresco of all the gods, standing together, staring down at the viewer. Along the walls were murals depicting the Scions, the first children of the gods and their war of jealousy against humanity. Razia walked along, looking at the scenes in order as others milled around her. Most of the people inside were on the wealthier side, entry without providing a donation was something no self respecting person would do. Razia paid her tithe at the end of the murals, depositing a handful of shards into a locked wooden box. Proper respect finally paid, she began her hunt in earnest.

The true hardest part of finding the merchant was the fact that she only had the description given to her by others. She knew he was a tall, broad shouldered man in his sixties. She knew he had green eyes, and a full beard of white with a single black streak in the center. That already ruled out most of the people in there, and Razia was in no real hurry as she wound her way in and out of groups of people talking together in hushed tones.

“Ms. Rashid,” a voice said from behind her. “What a pleasure to see you again. I hadn’t expected to see you...so soon.”

Razia turned around, keeping her shawl around her. She nearly winced when she saw Sister Sylvia, one of the priestesses of the Pierced Heart. Sylvia was probably in her thirties and beautiful, as all the priests and priestesses tended to be. She had a cool, detached presence and a voice like velvet. Razia would’ve easily fallen in love, if she hadn’t hated the woman so much.

“Sister Sylvia,” she said pleasantly, fighting the twitch in her eye. “I was lucky enough to be able to afford to pay proper respect to Dolas,” she said, making the priestess flinch. One didn’t casually invoke a god’s name in their own house.

“That would be a first. You’re welcome to worship, as are all in Orchrisus,” she said, recovering smoothly. “However, I did want to make sure you understood that our judgment still stands. We will not consider you for another eight months still.” If they would consider her at all, was the unspoken finish to the sentence. Sylvia was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Of course,” said Razia, bowing her head. “I gave it my best attempt and was found wanting. I would never dream of challenging your decision.”

“At least not again.”

Anger flared up inside Razia. “No, I learned my lesson about the clergy last time,” she said, unable to keep all the venom from her voice. It was this temple that brought her to Orchrisus, four months ago. She Thought to enter into the service and maybe one day become Sister Razia, an angel of compassion and beauty, tending to the poor and suffering of Orchrisus. They thought differently.

Sister Sylvia let out a soft sigh. “From the sounds of it, you’re still angry. That tells me you’re not taking the proper lesson from our dismissal. You have too much pride in you, Razia. A servant of a god can’t have the pride of one.”

“So you’ve said.” Razia was even more angry by the fact that Sylvia was right. She was prideful. And she was proud of her pride. It was what let her keep going, doing what she did in a world that often judged her or dismissed her for tending to the emotional and sexual needs of others. Razia was proud of who she was and what she did, and apparently that pride was enough for them to reject her. “It was...nice, seeing you again, Sister Sylvia,” she said.

Sylvia bowed her head in acknowledgement, but said nothing. She didn’t need to. Her disdain was clear on her face and even when she left Razia there in front of the donation box, Sylvia kept an eye on her, as if expecting Razia to be up to no good. That was perhaps the only fair judgment about Razia she made. Razia was definitely there to start trouble and get what she wanted, no matter what. All she had to do was find the right man and work her magic.

Razia made her way past person after person, glancing up at their faces to get a good look, often smiling or muttering a quick blessing that the other would mouth along with patiently. Aside from the men and women who stared long enough to admire her, most of them ignored her and left her to her business. Winding around the recessed center of the temple where cushions and pillows were scattered for people to sit or kneel on, she found her target in front of the statue.

Dolas, the Pierced Heart was unique among the gods for not having a single form. They alone of all of the gods could change their shape and form, as love and attraction was never quite the same between two people. The statue erected to the god/ess was done so with master craftsmanship and an enormous amount of magic. It appeared to the viewer as whatever form they found attractive. In Razia’s case, when she blinked it swapped between a number of different forms, male and female. This time, it alternated between an excessively curvy woman and a tall, fierce looking man. It wasn’t surprising, but it was still pleasing.

Glancing out the corner of her eyes, her target was right next to her, staring up at the statue with no real sense of awe so much as wistful longing. Roberto was taller than she expected, but most people were taller than her. Healthier too, with a decently big belly and a rosy glow to his skin. He had a weathered face that looked mostly good natured. She didn’t forget that he was the reason Samantha was sentenced to death.

“I know I’m not supposed to ask this,” said Razia, sidling up close to him. “When you look at the statue, what do you see?” She lowered her shawl a bit, looking up into his eyes with a small, secretive smile.

When he looked at her, his eyes widened and his face lit up. He grinned, making his white beard bobble. There was the single black streak. If that hadn’t tipped her off, his response would have. “You’re never going to believe this miss,” he said in a low, rumbly voice. “But she looks just like you.”

Razia playfully rolled her eyes, shrugging and moving a bit closer until she was all but touching him. “I bet you say that to all the girls. But in this case I’m willing to bet you’re telling the truth. I’m Razia.”

He extended his hand to her, and brought it up to his lips when she gave it. “Roberto Rossi, at your service,” he said. He kept her hand in his.

She feigned surprise. “The Roberto Rossi? Fabulously wealthy and classy businessman?” Maybe that was laying it on thick, but Roberto was already undressing her with his eyes. He didn’t notice.

“The same,” he said. “I’m pleased you’ve heard of me. The reputation is exaggerated, I promise you. Unless what you heard was good.” He let out a low laugh that echoed in the temple. He silenced himself when others looked up at him.

Razia smiled wide and bright at him. “It just so happens that you’re exactly the man I’ve been looking for.” She squeezed his hand and drew it back, letting her fingers play over his skin as she withdrew. She walked away from him slowly, putting an extra sway in her step. She headed towards one of the open wings that led outside, looking over her shoulder at him before she exited for the gardens.

The lush, overgrown gardens were the other half of the temple’s grandeur. Half of the land used for the temple was dedicated to it, and it was a lush miniature jungle of flowers and vines and palm trees. It was an island of lush greens and vivid colors in a sea of beige and orange. Plants wound their way up the sides of the temple and the free standing columns around the garden. Razia waited until Roberto emerged from the temple. She met his eye, smiled, and disappeared into the green.

Maybe it was risky, assuming he would follow her like that. Razia was nothing if not prideful, and to her satisfaction he came after her, jogging to catch up. She heard his heavy breathing before he came around the corner. He found her sitting on a stone bench, arms and legs spread. His eyes dipped to her dress and how high it rode before resting on her face.

“What did you mean by that?” he asked. Intrigue and surprise were the number one ways to attract a rich older man, and Razia had plenty of both.

She crossed one leg over the other slowly, letting her leg raise in the air. For a solid couple of seconds he’d be able to look directly up her dress, to where she was very purposefully wearing nothing beneath it. His eyes sparked with hunger as he met her gaze again. “Just what I said, Roberto Rossi. I’ve been looking for you. You have something I want. Something I need.”

His eyes dipped down between her legs and back up. He wet his lips and considered her. “I must say, whatever it is you want from me, you have a hell of a way of teasing.” He closed the distance, standing between her legs and looming over her. “You have my attention...Razia, was it?”

Razia laughed. “It was and is. To be blunt, I want to trade something. I want to spend the next week sucking your cock and getting fucked by you way imaginable. I want to ruin you for other women and make you dream of me long after I’m gone. I want to make your Blooming festival the envy of Orchrisus.” She smiled sweetly.

Roberto’s expression darkened almost instantly. The smile on his face disappeared, replaced by a look of growing hunger the more she spoke. He shifted from foot to foot, and Razia saw the front of his trousers twitch. That just made her smile grow. It was a good start, if nothing else.

“That’s a hell of a pitch,” he said, chuckling. “But I wasn’t born yesterday. Quite the opposite. I can’t see a pretty young thing like you wanting anything to do with an old fart like me without there being a hell of a price tag. What do you want from me?”

Rather than answer, Razia leaned further back and raised her between his legs. Slowly, teasingly she brushed her foot up against his growing erection, just enough to put a bit of pressure and feel the shape of him. “I want your pride, Roberto Rossi. I want you to let go of your pride for a bit, and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

His eyes fluttered shut at the contact. His breathing deepened, and he let out a pleased sigh. “That might be asking a lot. A man like me, pride is what we prize most. Speak plainly.”

“I’m here about Maria Legano,” said Razia.

The change in his demeanor was instantaneous. His smile disappeared, replaced by something that wasn’t quite a scowl. His entire body tensed up, and his hands balled into fists. It didn’t seem to lower his excitement, just the mood. “That was a mistake. All of it,” he said. “I should never have tried to get so close to her. I’m guessing you’re a friend of hers?”

Razia sat up straight. “I am. One of her closest friends. I heard about what happened. All of it. Even a wealthy, proud man like you has to know that she doesn’t deserve to die just to save your pride. Would you really condemn an innocent woman to death?”

Sighing, he closed his eyes. “It’s not that simple,” he said. “It’s not me, it’s my wife. She was furious. I’m guessing you’re not attached to any one person in particular?”

“You guess wrong,” Razia replied, smiling. “Jealousy is an ugly thing, isn’t it?” She reached forward and cupped his cock with her hand. Despite the serious conversation, she kept up the pressure, running her thumb over the fabric of his trousers.

Roberto couldn’t help but let out a tiny groan. He spread his legs, giving her easier access as she stroked him through his clothes. “It is. And my wife is as ugly as they come. If it was up to me, none of this would be happening. But I can’t change my wife’s mind. Not easily.”

“And yet you’re not walking away, or telling me no. You don’t want to say no to me, do you Roberto?”

“...No,” he sighed.

“Then don’t.” Razia laughed pleasantly. “Take me up on my offer. Drop the charges against Maria, get her released from the Colosseum, and I’ll spend the next week doing every nasty, filthy thing your wife won’t.”

Roberto groaned again, unconsciously grinding against her hand. He was fully hard now, and throbbing violently through his pants. “And where is my wife in this fantasy of yours? She’s got me on a tight leash after that.”

Razia unbuttoned his pants. This was going about as well as she could’ve hoped. She had him in her grasp, and all she had to do was make it unthinkable to deny her, give him just a little taste of what she could offer and he’d be eating out of her hand. He didn’t fight her as she fished his cock out of his pants and stroked it directly, soft skin dancing over his hard length.

“Are you trying to tell me a clever man, a self made man like you, can’t think of a way to get rid of the old ball and chain?” Razia teased. Before he could answer she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, a slow tease that ended with a swirl around the head. His hands shot forward to grasp her head, but he didn’t move her at all.

“Gods,” he groaned. “You’re not playing fair,” he said, laughing weakly.

“I never do,” Razia replied, giving him another teasy lick.

It was daring, doing this out in public. Any time now the Hierophant would be addressing worshippers, which would probably keep the rest of the temple from being out in the gardens until afterwards, when they would be encouraged to mingle and share stories of love and overcoming pain. For now, it was just the two of them in the open world. Even with this being strictly business, Razia couldn’t help but feel a little excitement from it. It was bordering on blasphemous, playing with a rich merchant’s cock in the temple gardens.

Razia leaned forward, taking his length into her mouth. Her lips wrapped around his cock and sealed against it as she sucked him further in, tongue stroking the underside. The good thing about rich men is they tended to be cleaner. Roberto was no exception, and Razia was pleased to find that this wouldn’t nearly as much of a chore as it could’ve been. She bobbed along for a few seconds before letting him go with a wet pop.

“It’s not just me,” Razia saiz, wrapping her hand around his shaft and stroking him. “Maria’s not mad at you. She’s mad at your wife. Get her out of this, and it won’t just me blowing your...mind. You can have the two of us for a week. Play sick, have a business emergency, just get out of the house and spend a week living like a king.”

Each slow stroke of her hand up and down weakened his resistance. She could see it in his eyes, on the off times they were open. His hips moved forward of their own accord, desperate for more stimulation, more pleasure, more everything. He stroked her smooth scalp as she worked, leaning in again to suck just the tip of his head while he threw his head back and flat out moaned loud enough that if anyone were out there, they’d hear it.

“I...Fuck, Razia, I…” He groaned. She felt his cock twitch in her mouth and she backed off, squeezing his shaft and stopping him from getting too excited. He let out a needy whimper. This was real power, bringing a powerful man to his knees with just her words and touch.

“Have I convinced you yet?” Razia said in as innocent a voice as she could manage while giving a man a blowjob. “Let Maria live and this is nothing compared to what you’ll feel.”

“Yessss…” Roberto hissed as she stroked faster and harder for a few seconds. His hips bucked wildly as she stroked harder and faster. Razia planted a kiss on the head before devouring him again. “GODS YES,” he cried.

It wouldn’t be long now. He was hot and hard in her mouth, and she could taste the first salty hints of his impending orgasm. So she backed off again. “What was that, Roberto?” She teased. “Are you saying yes to my deal? Are you going to let Maria go? Forget about your wife. You could have the time of your life.”

His eyes shot open. “My wife is...I was a nobody. Her family is powerful. She won’t take an insult like me going to a common whore lying down. She wants Maria dead, not me.” The words looked like they pained him to say.

“Oh,” Razia said, pumping his shaft slower now. “Are you saying I should be making this offer to her instead? Think she’d want a pretty little thing like me with my mouth on her cunt?”

Whatever Roberto felt about his wife, the mental image of Razia eating her out obviously did it for him. The end of his cock leaked with precum. Razia gathered it in her hand and slowly, teasingly ran the palm of her hand against his sensitive head. “Fuck,” he growled. “No, she doesn’t like women, but...Fuck, I don’t know.”

Razia was about to press on when she saw movement out the corner of her eye. She craned her head to look past Roberto and her blood ran cold. There was Sister Sylvia, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. She looked more than furious, she looked absolutely disgusted at the sight in front of her. Which was funny, as chances were that as a priestess she’d done exactly this at the temple. Maybe even in this very spot.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” She said, making Roberto jump. He looked over his shoulder and then back at Razia, eyes wide with sudden panic. He pulled away from Razia, shoving his cock back into his pants and buttoning them back up.

“I, uh…” he said, looking between the two of them rapidly.

Sister Sylvia ignored him. She stepped forward until she was right in front of Razia. “I can’t believe you,” she hissed. “You were rejected for a reason, and this is part of the reason why. Do you think no doesn’t apply to you?”

Roberto shot Razia an apologetic look and backed away slowly. Sister Sylvia paid him no mind, and he took that as his chance to get out of there and maybe avoid getting in trouble with the clergy. For a man like him, reputation mattered and there was no way he was going to be caught with his pants down during temple services.

A million different feelings flooded Razia. Anger, disappointment, crushing defeat. Defeat more than anything. Whatever chance she had at making this work was gone now that he’d run away. Her spell was broken and if she tried to approach him again there was no way he’d be even half as receptive.

“Well?” demanded Sylvia.

Razia stood up, biting back volcanic anger. As much as she wanted to grab Sylvia by her stupid blonde hair and smack the shit out of her, she was still clergy. She was still a chosen agent of her god/ess. Instead, she channeled her fury into very calm, very even words. “Congratulations Sylvia. You just got an innocent woman killed.”

Silvia blinked. “What?”

Razia huffed. “Forget it.” She pushed past Sylvia, but Sylvia’s hand shot out and caught her by the wrist.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sylvia, “but what you did is profane. You are not one of us. Performing services on worshippers in the garden when you’re just a common whore is disgusting. Don’t bother coming back in eight months. You’re not welcome here for anything other than worship.”

That hurt more than Razia thought possible. She ripped her hand away from the priestess. “Fuck you, bitch,” she spat. Razia walked away now, as fast as her feet would take her. Her eyes burned from the unshed tears. She wanted to break down and cry, over failing, over the indignation, over Maria. But she wouldn’t. Not where anyone could see her.