--- (The Duke’s Castle 21st Day of Dark Month)

The Duke shuffled through the various correspondence sorted and stacked upon his large solid timber desk. The desk carved from the trunk of a single giant tree, harvested from the western forest at the cost of five lives; regrettably, the distance from the tragedy offering the Duke no sadistic appreciation of their deaths. Hence, he enjoyed and savoured the day peasant craftsmen struggled to haul the monstrosity up through the castle passageways and into his office. The desk slipped twice, one peasant injured permanently and another crushed to death.

A strong knock on the metal bound wooden door to his office broke the Duke from his revelry. Three bells tolling across the City reminding him of the time of day and his promised audience. The Arch Priest of Judge, a slime of a man; valuing coin and so willing to be bribed, his one redeeming quality. This meeting critically urgent and of utmost importance, apparently. The Duke yawned in preparation.

“Enter,” bellowed the Duke, tapping his stylus.

The door creaked open, a small gap appearing and nothing more.

“Help the Arch Priest!” The Duke disgusted by the man’s physical weakness to push the door open, or his mental weakness, timid and cowering outside his Duke’s door unable to face his liege.

The door snapped open a single heartbeat after the Duke’s order.

The Arch Priest’s robes swamped the small frame of the current incumbent. Not long into his high position he didn’t dare consider adjusting the ancient robes, not yet at least. For most audiences he dressed in a fitted copy of the official holy robes, twenty-one garments in all at great personal cost, a condition of his elevation in addition to the coin he spent in persuading a few to his point of view and subsequent elevation. The coin easy, the ones who required favours more difficult to see off.

Once through the door, determined to hold his bow until the Duke released him. The warmth emanating from the fireplace, the one window shuttered and the exertion from hurrying to the Duke’s Office, atop multiple stairs conspired to tire the Arch Priest, beads of sweat popping along his forehead, a trickle of sweat rolling down the length of each arm. His hooded robe concealing both tells.

“Rise Arch Priest.”

The Arch Priest expelled a deep breath, deftly wiping his brow with a grandiose sweep of his robe’s sleeve in a clumsy form of salute.

The Duke’s amused sneer plain. “What portents or tribulations have you become privy to my dear Arch Priest?”

An involuntary twitch in response from the priest’s body acknowledged the power dynamic. The words escaping his mouth as a cautious whisper. “A Divine awakening Lord Duke.”

“Most fortuitous and wonderous. Where?”

The Priest’s wide eyes darting up and catching the Duke’s delighted countenance. The Duke’s reaction in conflict with the advice his sycophants imparted to him and hence the reason for his meekness. He eyes returning to the stone floor, his mind drifting off into confusion.

The Duke tapped his stylus upon his desk, the beat rapidly increasing until a brief silence and then a snap.

Back in the present, awakened and alert, the Arch Priest’s weak grey eyes darted about, licking his lips in preparation.

“At great personal expense I requested missives from each High Priest, transferred to the City utilising the Seers.”

The Duke lent forward, slightly; his elbows wide on his desk. The cost exorbitant and that single fact demanded his attention confirming in his mind the discovery no falsehood. Did the old slime actually sense the disturbance himself? Did he actually carry a faithful bone in his small body?

“The Duchess and I appreciate your efforts always. What did your missives reveal?”

“Yesterday, exactly middle of the day, sixth bell, the Divine presence of Judge returned to us, somewhere between Bircharbor and Hillperch, briefly. I, the High Priests of Marbleknoll and Northreach felt his presence, the High Priests of Seawatch, Southreach and Bridgeward unfortunately missed his blessing, while the High Priests of Birchardor and Hillperch experienced divine extasy.”

“The divine presence has since gone, returned to Olympus?”

The Arch Priest’s forehead crinkled. “Yes, my Duke.” His voice rising with his uncertainty, unsure of his Duke’s reaction.

“Well then nothing to do, unfortunately.” The Duke waved his hand at the Arch Priest, shooing him from his presence.

The Arch Priest gathered his robes, turned to leave, propped, considered speaking further. He noticed the Duke’s head down attending to his duties. Wiping his sleeve under his nose he continued his shuffle to the door, tapping upon the now closed barrier. The guard quickly opened the door and allowed the Arch Priest to exit before closing.

Scurrying away, the Arch Priest didn’t therefore share with the Duke the fate of the High Priest of Bircharbor, his faith, his heart or perhaps his health too weak to survive Judge’s divinity.

---

“You heard?” asked the Duke, his attention upon the parchment before him.

“Yes, my sweet, delicious news, intriguing especially in Death Month, previously such a disturbance only possible on His High Holy Day or so our histories tell us.” Her hands finding their way into his lose shirt eventually stroking his chest, while she nibbled upon his ear.

“I am certain my grandfather under various rouses, such as thefts, merchant protests, peasant uprisings and the like partially burnt or stole all known copies of Judge’s Holy Books and Tomes throughout the Duchy to prevent errant Priests experimenting in such a dangerous way.” The Duke removed one of the Duchess’ hands and repositioned the appendage on a more rewarding, for him, bodily location.

“Eager my sweet?” Her breathing deep and voice husky. “A Priest has found another copy? Although how did he perform the ceremony in Death Season?”

“How indeed, Judge’s disinterest in his faithful fully detailed in my grandfather’s father reign as Duke, when he consumed whatever magic lay about and then destroyed the gifts in his brave attempt to awaken the Gods. He managed to convince most of the Nobles to donate relics and heirlooms to his attempt thereby removing any future threat to the status quo they could have represented, genius, pure genius.” The Duke scooted his armless high-backed chair away from his desk and patted his lap by way of invitation.

The Duchess obliged by taking possession of the offered seat, landing upon the Duke’s hand, while his lips and teeth sucked and chewed her perfect neck.

“You are clever also my darling, none have attempted any expeditions south of Bridgeward due to your rumourmongers and tales of grizzly death.”

“Lift slightly my dear and release my pleasure.” The Duke braced himself. “Ah meticulous as always, mmh, still we will need to investigate, although the chances of anyone reaching Hillperch during Dark Season slim, although coin will motivate some fools, I am surrreee.” The Duke vocalising his appreciation further.

The Duchess rocked teasingly upon the Duke’s lap. “Perhaps my Daughters of the Duchess could be commanded to investigate dear?”

The Duke grabbed the Duchess’ hips and held them. “They were your joke were they not?”

“Yes, although in a moment of weakness, listening to her tale she won over the Court and I thought why not, what harm could a sixteen-year-old do?”

“What if your sixteen-year-old is the source of this divine disturbance?”

The Duchess lent back, her hand caressing the Duke’s cheek. “You aren't serious? Our reports suggest they freeze in their House awaiting Death Season to break. In fact, if anything three of them have perished, they rode through the Gates of Hillperch and never returned.”

The Duke released his Duchess’ hips, which soon resumed their pleasurable purpose.

“While our Lord of the Northern Watch overstepped with her and as you say she managed to win the sympathy of the Court due in part to his heavy handedness and dishonour, he has a good nose for sniffing out threats, often overlooked by our other agents.”

“Well, who do we command? My Daughters or perhaps the Lord of the Northern Watch?” the Duchess murmured.

The Duke lent back savouring the skills of his Duchess.

“Dearest, a present.”

Opening his eyes and leaning his head forward, his Duchess now naked, with both of her nipples pierced with thin golden circles, which his mouth captured allowing his tongue to play with his new toys.

After a time, the Duke released his presents, allowing the Duchess to lean her forehead upon his shoulder as she enjoyed their coupling.

“Your Daughters, perhaps a few more will freeze in our service demonstrating their devotion and bravery and if they succeed, we can be seen as benevolent and reward their heroism, while of course, mourning their sacrifice.”

The Duchess reached a crescendo, hastening the Duke and herself to satisfaction.

Recovering first, the Duchess whispered, “Won’t they report false if they are the source of the divine disturbance?”

“Well that will be proof enough and I am sure the Lord of the Northern Watch would be keen to pursue anyone in Birth Season!”

The Duchess cackled and then rewarded her Duke with a deep lingering passionate kiss, their tongues performing a well-practiced dance.

--- (Personal Chambers, High Priest of Hillperch)

The High Priest paced behind his plain desk, waving a hand at the vacant visitor’s chair. The Magistrate stroked his beard in contemplation as he complied.

“Magistrate, I summoned you to share a divine epistle.”

Magistrate Apelles detected the constrained excitement in the timber of the High Priest’s voice. Apelles one Priest of Judge who long ago accepted their God a figurehead, an ideal of civilised behaviour, but in essence not real. He needed to keep up an appearance of faith of course, although as Magistrate he relied upon evidence, body language and questioning to reach his judgements. Assessing his High Priest on that basis, no evidence so far, body language indicated the High Priest believed his statement and the Magistrate uncertain questioning would help given the High Priest’s current fervour.

The High Priest ceased his pacing. “During our middle of the day ceremony I called for Judge’s Blessing and he answered. He … answered.” His eyes drifted upwards, a look of rapture and serenity taking hold.

“In Death Season?”

The Magistrate’s question plain, simple and to the point. The High Priest’s state of euphoric remembrance broken.

“You doubt?” The High Priest charged around his desk, his hands landing on the arms of the visitor’s chair, his bushy eyebrows a finger width from Apelles’ face. “You doubt?”

Apelles managed to hold back his mirth. Intimidation and anger, even from his High Priest easily dismissed. When holding court being physically threatened, while not common, certainly occurred often enough to develop a tolerance and reaction. For example, in this instance, Apelles would, given the close distance, quickly jab any assailant in the throat. He restrained himself on this occasion.

“Not doubt, questioning. When has Judge revealed his strength in Death Season?”

The High Priest straightened himself, dusting off his robes to buy a few moments. His eyes searched the Magistrate, finding analytical curiosity. He sighed heavily.

“There is a divine energy within me Apelles. I feel it, as much as thirst or hunger and I need to quench my faith in performing deeds in Judge’s name. The first bell after, the urge but an itch, now the day after I am compelled and you my stalwart second …”

The High Priest shot out his hands reaching either side of Apelles’ head, encasing them in a divine grip of iron. Apelles’ instinct to defend himself eradicated the moment the hands of his High Priest touched his flesh.

Apelles’ body glowed, sunlight radiance streaming from any exposed flesh, his robes backlighting elsewhere. Apelles’ believed. His choice removed upon bearing witness to his God’s divinity when shared by the High Priest. His past philosophical doubt erased and divinely atoned. His new purpose detailed and exacting, his role as Magistrate, dealing judgement expanded and extended. His heart overflowed with divine inspiration and purpose.

“Please fetch another who you believe worthy.”

The words spoken, barely registering and somewhat unnecessary. Apelles’ eyes blinking and refocusing, the non-believer converted to divine purpose. His hands steadying himself by holding the arms of the chair as he rose to stand. He nodded stiffly, taking his first step towards the door, a goofy smile of joy upon his face. As he closed the door of the High Priest’s Chamber behind him, he resumed his normal façade his next task clear.

--- (Hillperch 21st Day of Dark Month)

Nysa, Kyra, Otonia, Zosime, Zoe and Jocasta arrived in Hillperch neatly arrange around the Shrine of Saph. A two wheeled cart positioned on either side and a canvas cover spread over the Shrine and the two carts provided their arrival with ample concealment. Zosime pleasantly surprised when her silver circle, now a silver slither under her forehead regenerated enough magic after the ceremony to activate the Shrine.

Alexis greeted them, and although warned prior, still needed to touch her Warrior Sisters herself, especially Nysa due to the serene peaceful glow they radiated. She hustled three sisters into each of the two carts and covered them to the point of excess concerned about any light escaping into the black ink of the night. With the kind weather Alexis wanted to be as quick as possible given the opportunity now afforded the temple guards to simply walk over and ask questions.

Latona, Agape and Ismene struggled to pull the cart containing Zosime, Zoe and Jocasta, while Alexis, Alexa and Thais struggled to pull the other cart. They strained under duress managing to reach an alley out of sight of the temple guards who were becoming interested enough to step away from their posts. Perhaps the more insightful noticing the wheels on the carts sinking deeper into the snow or possibly the chance to be gallant and assist struggling damsels in distress. Alexis chancing a peek to confirm their whereabouts.

“Zosime, out and pull your cart for all your worth, the temple guard approaches,” sent Alexis.

“Alexa, tap Otonia and Kyra and pull your cart with haste, the temple guard approaches,” sent Alexis.

Alexis wrapped herself in her furs and stepped out of the alley, heading directly for the Shrine, eyes down. As she hoped the guards adjusted their line of pursuit from the wagons to intercept her. She slowed, so they needed to travel further, pretending to struggle against the snow, slipping once to extend out their actual meeting moment.

“Halt!”

Alexis looked about in a pretend daze until finally settling upon the guard who called to her. Swaying unsteadily, waiting.

“Are you well?” A female voice this time.

“The cold, and I have been sent on this duty too many times. Afterall how clean is clean and yet the Mistress is fanatical to the point of obsession.”

“Is Mistress Charis unwell?”

Alexis overbalanced and fell to into the snow.

“Clymene ask the Mistress if I can reveal Mistress Charis is unwell?”

A hand shook her shoulder, Alexis ignored it by laying down in the snow.

“Yes, better now when investigation is difficult than in Birth Season when all manner of snooping can be conducted.”

“Carry her.” The female voice again.

Suspicion laced his voice. “Why should I? Is this a male thing?”

“No oaf, you are the strongest, hand me your spear and shield.”

The male guard shared a dark look with the female guard, otherwise accepting his task.

“Hey!” he called, followed by a slight backhanded slap on Alexis’ cheek.

Alexis shook her head and opened her eyes. She focused on the male guard and smiled.

“Did you save me?”

She noticed him quickly side glance at the female guard, who rolled her eyes while shaking her head.

“No unfortunately, I suspect you needed a little rest is all,” he reluctantly admitted, holding out his hand.

Alexis kindly accepted and pulled herself to her feet dusting off flakes of snow especially from her firm behind, putting on a show for his benefit.

“Thank you, I could have slept and perished in the snow without your concern.” Alexis’ eyes sort out his in the weak light cast by the torch held by the female guard, who she suspected re-positioned to foil her attempt.

“You seem well enough now,” said the female guard, flicking her head at the male guard, hinting.

The male guard placed a hand on the female guard’s forearm to hold her a moment.

“You mentioned your Mistress’ health before. Is Mistress Charis ill?”

Alexis swallowed, feigning difficulty to speak. “You mustn’t say, and I am ashamed I spurned my duty to clean the Shrine at her request, but yes, she desperately clings to life her ailment unknown, thin black lines under her skin spread from her stomach across most of her torso. She is in a great deal of pain.”

“Same as the Seer Raisa, poison although her continual survival hints at a weaker dose,” said the female guard, her words tumbling out only ending when she placed her hand over her own mouth.

With a venom in his voice the male guard unleashed. “You have put us both in the crap now, you stupid gossiping bitch. My only way out is to report you and I am no snitch.”

“We can forget this conversation, all of us. We helped a Daughter and she mentioned Charis is ill, nothing else …” The female guard looked up searching the male guard’s face for agreement.

The male guard scratched his chin. “Well how about it, cutie? You good at forgetting?”

“For my rescuer?” Alexis fluttered her eye lashes. “The least I could do, a favour for a favour is how I see it,” whispered Alexis.

“Settled.” He then turned toward the female guard. “You can fetch wood for the brazier until the end of Death Season, no ifs or buts.”

The female guard opened her mouth to protest and then nodded her head, trudging back to their guard position. Darkness enveloped Alexis and the male guard.

He asked in a little boy voice. “One kiss for your rescuer?”

Alexis quickly kissed him on his cheek and then darted past his outstretched arm hurrying away. After a distance she strained her ears to listen, once convinced he couldn’t follow her silent enough to fool her hearing she turned. Her Borrow Stone sight unnecessary as both guards stood at their post, illuminated by torch light, huddled around a fiery brazier.

---

Alexis threw down her furs and removed a soaked blanket, warming body and hands in front of the Kitchen Stove.

“Mistress we will never be able to use the Shrine during this Death Season or other seasons, there will be too many enquires as we can’t clean it every second day,” reported Alexis.

“I agree and I have a plan, maybe. Ask Korinna to send our three Goblin Sisters to the Sixth Cavern where I will meet them.”

“Yes Mistress.” Alexis dropped into a chair shivering and started taking off her water-soaked boots.

---

“Zosime, Nysa and Kyra, I will need you with me for a few moments more,” commanded Astera.

The three looked up from their meal and sighed in agreement, their glow attracting the attention of any Sister within sight and soon there would be a shift change and more touching and prodding. Perhaps escorting the Mistress, a blessing. Otonia, Zoe and Jocasta will be able to entertain any future curiosity.

They followed Astera to the Sixth Cavern and didn’t need to wait long as the Goblin Sisters arrived in good time. Astera took some time to convince the Goblin Sisters Zosime, Nysa and Kyra were still their old selves, still Warrior Sisters. They passed through the secret door and took the tunnels which led to Temple Row.

“Goblin Sisters do you know where you are and what building we are under?” Astera asked.

Above them they studied the solid marble floor exposed into the tunnel system.

“We would need to walk the caverns and tunnels on the surface, not exactly but we need a good starting point for both,” replied Sweetears.

“So, we could start you in the Training Room above the Top Cavern, perhaps use the squeeze hole under the House to exit into the street and then you walk from there.”

The three Goblin Sisters exchanged looks and nodded in confirmation.

Turning to her Human Sisters Astera asked another question.

“How do we disguise our Goblin Sister, so she doesn’t die a horrible death at the hands of the town folk?”

The Goblin Sisters blanched slightly upon hearing their Mistress’ words but inwardly held to their oath given and taken.

“We could be a grandmother and granddaughter walking to Temple Row. Most of the Goblin Sister’s flesh would be covered by clothes, furs and boots. With a face wrapped against the cold and a wide brimmed hat and no need to speak, as Grandmother being the elder, would be expected to and I think we would avoid any direct enquires.”

“Do I have a volunteer given Zosime’s plan, Goblin Sisters?”

“Sweetears is proud to volunteer Mistress!”

Astera remembered her as the Goblin Sister who received the goblet, so this could be related to that. Then they all volunteered resulting in a squabble.

“Goblin Sisters!” called Astera, restoring silence.

“I am pleased that all have volunteered but the task falls upon Sweetears as the first to offer. Again, I thank you all. Zosime please prepare yourself and Sweetears, we will attempt this now given there is still night about and the weather would be suitable for a grandmother and granddaughter to go visiting.”

“Yes Mistress,” both replied.

---

Zosime causally waited for Sweetears in the laneway outside the squeeze hole from underneath the House. She did check to confirm such a requirement, couldn’t they just walk out from the loading bay? Sweetears insisted, wanted to do good, so needed to mark from the same place above ground and below ground.

They held to the House side of Gate Road and needed to track behind some buildings. They then crossed Gate Road, although Sweetears paused right in the middle of it! Zosime resisted the urge to hurry her on not really knowing what she required to complete and how necessary. Of all the places this is where some very late night or reasonably early morning townsfolk would frequent. To Zosime relief they moved on and off Gate Road after only a few heartbeats.

After a close call with a gang of burglars plying their trade in a break in the weather and alluding a couple of nefarious fellows exchanging coin, they reached the Temple Street courtyard. From a shadowed alley corner, the two sisters spied upon the Shrine of Saph, Sweetears using her dark sight and Zosime using her Borrow Stone. There were several guards on duty although none really paying attention to the Shrine.

Zosime looked at Sweetears and an unspoken word passed between them. Zosime and Sweetears took a step out into the alley discarding the protection of the shadows. Assuming their identities, the grandmother leant on her granddaughter and they stepped out onto the Temple Common proper. Step by slow step they made their way across the courtyard toward the Shrine. Zosime noticed several pairs of guards watching, reassuringly none as yet moved from their post, after all the closest pair already received one visit resulting in complications tonight. The devoted pair, one adult and one child made such sluggish progress they could easily be chased down if required, the common consensus of the guards.

At the Shrine the grandmother left the support of her granddaughter and knelt to pray at the Shrine. The guards saw nothing unusual in this and they were sure the change in the weather would result in a few more visitors. The time odd, except older people were always a little eccentric. One bored guard reconsidered, imagining a perverse fun in questioning the harmless couple, although by the time he convinced his partner the worshipping pair had ambled off in the direction they came from. Neither guard wanted to leave their post beyond the limit of the Temple Common, in case a sleepless priest noticed their absence.

Once around the corner Zosime took a moment to lean against the wall of the nearest building and allowed a small smile of relief to escape in Sweetears’ direction. She wondered if Sweetears returned the smile or not. It didn’t matter, they resumed their journey back shortly after. They took a different route back trying to avoid the noise and general commotion of the burglary, which lead them into the former crafts area of the old town.

Sunlight began painting the town when they finally reached the House and many of the townsfolk were breaking cover from their houses to sample the newly arisen feeble sun after so long being trapped by Death Season. Zosime waved at more than one and hurried on. With many witnesses they entered the House by the elder’s door, which surprisingly permitted them entry without incident.

Once behind the door Zosime lent against the bulwark in relief. Unconcerned for herself; she didn’t know the fate of Sweetears if discovered, although eventually death a given. She thought Sweetears also realised her particular danger as she leant into Zosime while removing her facial wrap, her grateful eyes contrasting with her nervous smile. Zosime reached an arm around to hug her.

--- (Bircharbor 21st Day of Dark Month)

Three gold circles glistened and reflected lantern light, Agatha’s eyes fixated upon the Items, horrified, amazed, surprised and nervous. The day before she explained her acquisition of them to her twin Seer Sister Elpis. Both concluding she would need to explain to the current Mistress of the Daughters of the Duchess.

Her request for solitude and exemption from Temple duties granted by the Mother Superior given her witness of events and subsequent trauma. Her underground stone walled room plain, accruements not much better than an average Inn, bed, cupboard and chamber pot, although boasting privacy, security and a temple guard.

“Clymene, I need to relay events of yesterday to our Mistress,” sent Agatha.

Agatha recalled yesterday. Attending the Temple of Judge as a representative of the Goddess Saph, Agatha knew her status within the Temple of Saph now reached an all-time low. The Middle of the Day Ceremony requiring a long pre-ambled before the appointed moment honouring and hailing Judge as the King of Gods, Divine Ruler, each Priest of Judge in turn reciting from their scriptures proclaiming his greatness under the watchful gaze of the High Priest of Judge.

On this particular day in Dark Month, Agatha, Priestess of Saph, represented the sole pantheon guest, others sending apologies, typically on the first day of Death Season to cover the entire Death Season. While the King of the Gods could make demands, his Priests faced the reality of human nature and required High Priests from the pantheon acquiescing. Therefore, Agatha knew her duty to attend one of punishment regardless of the general improvement in the weather allowing a dignified crossing of the Temple Common on this occasion.

As an honoured witness, she stood behind the High Priest as he intoned and chanted before the Temple Altar. Reaching a crescendo, he swivelled back to face his congregation making the final call for Judge’s Divine Blessing.

In the short tirade of fervent effort sweat glistened upon the High Priest’s brow, bubbles of sweat graced his upper lip and yet he still demanded with effort that Judge hear his plea.

His face grimaced, eyes wide, the whites dominating as his body stiffened before Agatha’s eyes. Plank like his body tottered in place and then toppled, the moment of respite allowing Agatha to dash behind and underneath to try and support him to stand upright. His flock stunned into silence and inaction. The weight in his body a surprise, Agatha settling for a controlled lowering of this now statue like body.

Beams of sunlight burst out of his quickly blackening flesh further confusing and confounding the gathered faithful. The beams either avoiding or missing Agatha until gone leaving behind a husk. Agatha, inquisitive, poked her finger at and upon the blackened flesh. An innocent enquiry resulting in a catastrophic collapse of the body, the High Priest’s ceremonial robes burnt away by the shafts of light prior, leaving a burnt blacken mound of ash perfectly matching the body outline of the former High Priest.

Gleaming within the ash, three golden circles, approximately positioned at or near the former High Priest’s waist. Agatha adroitly plucked the three items from his pyre and secreted them within her robes.

Shouting and wailing caused her to survey the Temple; Priests and Judge Knights rushed the raised dais from both sides. To avoid being pushed and shoved out of the way Agatha stepped back. As the number of gawkers exceeded the capacity of the dais one the Priests shouted for calm, stemming the charge and encouraging many to return to their pew or duties.

The neat exact outline of piled ash now variously disturbed, although still representative of a human pyre.

“What did you see?” His voice harsh and accusing.

Agatha jumped, her eyes flashing at her accuser. “No more or no less than you, beams of sunlight claimed him, he became his own pyre in an instant. Horrifying, amazing. Did Judge bless him or destroy him with his judgement?”

The Priest opened his mouth and then placed an index finger on his bottom lip, shortly after tapping and then dropping his hand to grasp the other before his waist.

“You should leave and advise your Mother Superior the High Priest has risen, due to his dedication, to sit beside Judge.”

Agatha gathered her robe about her to leave and paused.

“Go Seeress, I will not ask again!”

Agatha hurried off the dais and then from the Temple of Judge. She related her story and the Priest of Judge’s interpretation to her Mother Superior. After a few questions she begged for solitude, which the Mother Superior granted.

---

“The Mistress is aware of the obvious,” sent Clymene.

“I know sister, the High Priest. Evil? How does such a thing happen?”

“We suspect a Mother Superior recruiting and grooming assassins with the assistance of a mysterious evil, why not a High Priest? Although in this case Judge dealt his own punishment once called by the anointment of Nysa.”

A chill rippled through Agatha’s spine. “What of the three circles?”

Joy. “Mistress suggests they would, for now, be safest within your body. Protect them Seer Sister.”

Agatha didn’t expect such an honour, flabbergasted beyond belief. “Thank you …”

Clymene returned a sense of warmth and pride laced with reassurance, Agatha soaking up the sending in place of a physical hug. She recalled her guilt and disappointment yesterday, unable to join the Seer Circle to witness Nysa’s triumph due to her duty on behalf of Saph in the Temple of Judge and now wondered about fate.