“I will. Stop panicking.” Aloisia set the gift box beside the orders book. “I’m leaving this here for later.”
Fynn shrugged. “Sure.”
“See you later.”
He waved his hammer in a goodbye.
Brighde was right – twenty-one years was an important Name Day. And Aloisia wanted to ensure it was perfect for Tristan. After all, he had gone to so much trouble for her own Twenty-First Name Day a few moons past. Though Kaja had never quite been able to remove the stain from her dress since that night…
She bid a brief farewell to Ma and Brighde as she headed out of the smithy. Running through the list of tasks still left for the day, she almost missed the flicker of blue light in her periphery. She turned and spotted it skitter around the corner of the alley like a frightened cat, if light could do such a thing.
Chills rippled across her arms, raising the skin in goosebumps. Following its path around the bend, she frowned. There was no sign of it. Perhaps it had been a reflection, a glint of flames within the smithies of Iron Row. Or perhaps the early morning hunts were getting to her head, after all.
Aloisia paced Temple Green, waiting for Brighde and Ma to arrive. Having always been the one who was late, who was last, she had ensured she would be exceptionally early for this. Her legs throbbed from the amount of walking she had done around the town, ensuring everything was in place for Tristan’s Name Day. And, once done, she had headed straight up to the Temple. Having never been the one who was exceptionally early, she didn’t know what to do except pace around the green.
As time ticked onwards, more townsfolk gathered in the green, waiting for the doors to open for the sermon. Most donned their finest clothes, and Aloisia wished she had changed before coming to town. For most, it would have been unacceptable to enter the Temple in hunting leathers. However, as a huntress, she was one of few who could get away with it. With the engraved beads in her hair marking her as what she was, any stares of derision quickly turned to admiration. Even so, she made a mental note to ask Brighde about borrowing some clothes for later.
Amidst the crowd, Aloisia spotted Brighde, an arm linked with Ma’s. The deep green of Brighde’s dress brought out the red tones of her light brown hair, worn with a few strands braided back around the crown of her head.
“Couldn’t you make more effort?” Ma gestured to Aloisia’s clothes. “At least you’re here on time.”
“I’ve been here for at least half an hour, I’ll have you know.” She crossed her arms, once again regretting not changing earlier.
“Then why aren’t we nearer the front?”
Her shoulders slumped. “I was walking around the green, Ma.”
“It’s great you got here early, Lis,” Brighde said.
“Yes,” Ma interjected. “It’s better than sneaking in halfway through the sermon.”
“That only happened once!” Aloisia protested.
“So, how was the cake?” Brighde asked.
She resisted sighing in relief at Brighde’s attempt to take the heat off her. “Incredible. The baker outdid himself.”
“A ginger loaf, you said?”
“Yes, it is.”
Ma waved a hand, cutting them off. “Hush, we’re going in.”
Brighde and Aloisia shared a grin. At least there would be silence once the sermon began. She followed them inside as Brighde guided Ma in the high double doors of the temple. The vaulted ceiling of the nave rose seventy feet above them. Within this building, she couldn’t help but feel small.
Arches ran the length of the nave, with stone pillars as thick as tree trunks holding them up. Beneath each arch stood statues twenty feet tall, depicting eight of the Nine Divines. Rows of pews filled the space. A wide aisle stretched between them, leading to the altar at the far end. Footsteps and hushed chatter echoed, ricocheting across the walls and up into the vast, empty ceiling above.
Ma strode towards her favourite pew which was, thankfully, empty. Aloisia didn’t know what kind of scene Ma would create if someone took her usual seat, and she didn’t want to find out. Beside their pew stood the Huntress, carved of the same stone as the rest of the nave. She bore her braids and beads, furs covering her shoulders, and a quiver of arrows strapped to her back. In one hand she held a bow, the other a dove – a symbol of life and death, Tristan had told her once, long ago. The balance all huntresses must keep, as Mavka had taught her.
Upon a dais at the far end of the nave were an altar and a pulpit. Behind the altar stood the Mother, the largest statue of them all at thirty feet. Atop her head was a crown of flowers and in her arms a newborn babe. Her eyes were kind and her smile gentle as she regarded the congregation.
Aloisia cast her gaze to the pulpit as Tristan approached it. She beamed as he peered out at those gathered, spotting her in their usual spot. His face was still a little pale and nervous, his dirty blonde hair appearing darker by comparison.
As everyone settled in their seats, a hush fell upon the nave.
“Blessed be,” Tristan said, his voice ringing in the silence. “We gather here today in the light of the Mother, the Father, the Huntress, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Bard, the Crone, the Mage, and the Child…”
As Tristan began his sermon, Aloisia’s attention slipped. She’d never particularly cared for sermons and rituals. If it weren’t for Tristan giving the sermon, and it being such a momentous day for him, she likely wouldn’t have showed up at all. Instead, her attention turned to the ceiling above and musings of the poor stonemasons who had built such a giant structure long ago. She stared at the ceiling and wondered many things.
