She left her cell in the early morning hours to the call of the religious service held at that hour. She liked this time of day. The other monks, even the most fervent, were barely awake and went through the motions of the service as if sleepwalking. Even the Abbot, who led the group in prayers, was uninspired. There was something about being the only person who was truly awake that she enjoyed. She read the appendix of the holy books while the chants continued, though she never lost her place in the chanting either. She could separate her mind in that way, something few men could manage. The words she read were cryptic, but she felt there was some meaning to them anyway if she could only understand them better.

Then a shadow fell over her book and she looked at the man who had stepped into the pew beside her. It was the Cleric Quint, and he was looking at her. He was not sleeping at all. She closed the book guiltily and looked away - back to the altar where she was supposed to be focused. She tried to ignore the feeling that the Cleric was staring at her, but try as she might her eyes kept straying back towards him. All through the service he stayed beside her, not saying anything to her but with those penetrating eyes locked on her whenever she should glance towards him. To say she was nervous was an understatement. By the time the service was concluded, she was visiblly shaking.

She stood to go and a hand held her shoulder. She gulped hard and looked back at the Cleric with pitiable, tear filled eyes. She tried to say his name, but she found herself unable to speak.

“Kreet, come with me.”

She hung her head and nodded once, and followed him up the aisle and through a side passage to the Abbot’s private chambers.

“Wait here,” the Cleric said, and walked into another room. A few minutes later, the Abbot himself, still clothed in the vestments of the early morning service, walked by and into the room, closing the heavy door behind him. He didn’t look at her.

For a while, she thought about running away. But that was silly, she knew. If she ran away, what would that gain her? She wanted to stay here! Then, as the minutes passed by, she heard muffled voices within. She knew she could creep to the door and put her head against the door, allowing the bones of her skull to amplify the sound within, but that would be wrong. She’d done enough wrong already. So she just sat and became ever more convinced that they were discussing physical punishment as well as banishment. She had heard of some cults that practiced such rites. She had been disciplined plenty of times of course - mostly when she had first arrived and didn’t understand the rules. But this was probably worse. She couldn’t un-learn what she had learned. Nothing short of death or severe brain damage could make that happen, and she was none too sure that this wasn’t precisely what they were talking about.

The minutes ticked by. Then finally the door opened and the Abbot walked out. He still did not look at her, but now he was in his normal attire. The Cleric followed close behind and shut the door. She looked up at him and his face softened.

“Hold my hand, Kreet. We need to talk. But not here. We will talk in my chambers.”

He walked with her, making sure to keep his stride that which she could match without too much effort. She appreciated that, and she tried her best not to read anything positive into his gentle looks. Hope was a drug that dulled the senses. Better to expect the worst and be wrong, than to expect a miracle that never happened.

Finally they arrived at his room and he stepped inside and sat behind a large table. She did not miss the fact that he closed the door solidly behind her.

“Kreet,” he began, “this monastery has been here for a thousand years. Did you know that?”

The little kobold nodded. She’d read the history many times in fact. She couldn’t list all the Abbots as some could, but she knew the major ones at least.

“A thousand years, give or take a few decades. In that time, despite what some would have you believe, there have been changes to our Rule. Minor changes, but over time those changes build up. Given a thousand years time, the changes are significant. But there are some rules that have never changed. One of them is the prohibition against female Clerics.”

She hung her head. Of course she knew the monastery was male-only. There were a few exceptions, but very very few. There was a scullery maid that worked in the laundry who had been left as an orphan some time back. And there was an old lady who lived just outside the monastery and helped in the garden. A widow, she believed. But other than those two, she was the only other female here.

“Do you know why that rule is in place, Kreet?”

Kreet looked up at him. He looked sad. She felt sad. She shook her head slowly from side to side.

“Kreet, neither do I. I do understand why the monastery is male-only. Devotion to Pelor is our duty, privilege and reason for our existence here. Mixing sexes is not conducive to that devotion. The natural urges of men towards women and vice-versa is a powerful one and we don’t want to lose our candidates to that temptation. But there are convents dedicated to Pelor as well. They produce fine Clerics too. I’m even aware of a monastery, far far away, that allows both sexes. But that is not our Rule here, Kreet.”

Kreet brightened up. Maybe he was going to offer her a chance to live at a nunnery instead of excommunicating her altogether. She would not like to move again. It felt like she had moved so many times she would never have a home, but it would certainly be better than being thrown out into the world on her own.

“In our Rule, females cannot become Clerics. They can’t even be monks here. Do you know why we accepted you into the monastery?”

“Because Ka'Plo requested it?” she offered, clearing her throat after having been silent so long.

“Well, yes. But more accurately, he demanded it in exchange for his research. This monastery has grown rather wealthy after publishing his work on kobolds like you, but he refused to allow that publication if we wouldn’t accept you.”

“But he is dead. You don’t need to keep me anymore,” Kreet pointed out.

“Kreet, we are servants of Pelor. We do not lie, nor cheat. You surely know that by now. No, the Abbot accepted you, though it was against our Rule, because of Ka’Plo’s demand but also because he was a very good friend of Ka'Plo. He made a promise to raise you as our boys are raised. But you have put that decision into question. As a kobold, you are - at least to young human eyes - sexless. You do not offer the distractions that bringing a human girl in would cause. But to break another Rule and allow you to become a Cleric… that is a very different matter.”

“I regret that I learned of things I shouldn’t have,” she said honestly.

“I am quite sure you do, though that boy doesn’t regret it. I don’t regret it. And Kreet, the Abbot himself doesn’t regret it. You have learned some fairly sophisticated abilities, and you learned them second-hand through the boys and their books. And you have learned those abilities better and more thoroughly than the boys under my own tutelage. Kreet, you are a prodigy. Do you know that word?”

The kobold shook her head again, feeling once again as if she had failed in a fundamental way. She could guess what it meant, but she didn’t know. Her grasp of the language was still incomplete.

“It means you are gifted, Kreet. You have a gift of learning and applying what you learn. It’s not intelligence - that’s for mage work. It’s a sort of Wisdom, and it’s not something than can be learned by memorization or perfection of some recipe like the alchemists do. It is within the student from the outset, and it’s the Master’s job to bring it out and bring it to it’s highest possible state. If he does his job right, the student becomes his own Master and carries on without him at some point. At that point, he is a true Cleric, ready to go into the world and hone his devotion to his god and his craft as an Apostle. And in our case, to do Good in the world. To bring light to dark places.”

“Kobolds like dark places,” Kreet said. It was a simple fact.

“The phrase is a metaphor, Kreet. Some dark places can be full of light, and some bright places can be very dark. It is not sunlight and shadow we’re talking about here Kreet. It is Good and Evil. For most humans, kobolds are creatures of evil. Ka'Plo’s work has begun to change that perception. You could change it even more. Kreet…”

Kreet sucked in her breath. Whatever revelation the Cleric was leading to, this was it. His words boded well, but her life had taught her never to Hope. She was trying her very best not to.

“Kreet, I am going to teach you to be a Cleric.”

This time, a dam burst in her eyes. She let out a squeal of joy that she couldn’t with-strain and her eyes fairly poured with tears.

“Kreet… little one! Please!” the Cleric said, and immediately she choked back the tears, closed her eyes and composed herself.

“I am sorry for that, Master,” she said. “I had not hoped…”

“Well don’t get too worked up. I will teach you in private, here in my chambers every day after the evening service. I don’t want you to go spreading it all around. Some of the older monks will object no doubt. Not only are you not male, but you’re a kobold. It will be hard for them to accept. But it’s not a secret. I know you’ll tell your friends, and I don’t want you to feel guilty if I were to demand secrecy from you. No, you can tell them. Indeed, I’d like you to work with them as well. You can learn from each other. Just don’t go talking about it to the other monks if you don’t need to. The Abbot has agreed with this course of action. He is a man of few words to Acolytes like you, but he has specifically requested me to carry his regards to you. He has high hopes for you, Kreet. And, even though they don’t know it, your very race may depend on you succeeding. Do your best.”

Kreet was holding back the tears as best she could, but they would not stay. “I am an Acolyte? The same as Karl and Brand?”

The Cleric stood up and opened a drawer and pulled something soft and dull yellow from it. Kreet’s eyes grew as large as saucers.

“Kreet, remove your clothes and receive your Acolyte robes. From this day on, you are an Acolyte of Pelor.”

Kreet didn’t hesitate. She stood naked before the Cleric as he placed the garment over her head, reciting an incantation made to bless the robe and it’s wearer. It had obviously been made to fit her specifically with accommodation both for her ever-widening hips as well as her tail. She did not fail to understand the significance of that. Someone had been considering this for her prior to yesterday’s incident. She looked at the Cleric.

He smiled, knowing what she was thinking. “No Kreet. It wasn’t me. It was the Abbot. He keeps a closer eye on things around here than you may suspect. He has known of your abilities for some time. It was news to me though! Now, hold still while I pin your badge of office on. Acolyte level 1. Congratulations, Kreet. You should be proud. I know Ka'Plo would be too. Now go back to your cell. You have tomorrow off so you can sleep all day.”

Kreet stood at attention while the Cleric knelt to her level and pinned the badge on her chest. She had never felt prouder in her life. She wanted to shout it to the world. But she knew better. She would be quiet about it. Besides, the yellow robe and badge would scream it to the world anyway. But she would not be quiet about it with her two friends. They would celebrate in some fashion, most likely in a fashion that the Abbot would never have approved of!

She turned to the door, but then stopped and turned back to the Cleric.

“Sir,” she said as humbly, and in the best Common that she could muster. “Thank you for this. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. And thank the Abbot for me too. This means the world to me. This is my life. I will do my best to honor you both.”

The Cleric smiled and knelt to the little kobold’s level and hugged her warmly. “I know you will, Kreet. Thank you, for what you did for Karl. That was very self-sacrificing of you.”

He planted a kiss on her snout then, before shooing her out of his office.

Little did he know that, indirectly, that kiss would lead to her expulsion a few years later.