It’s a while before I see the telltale red roof of the temple, and much to my relief, the structure has remained untouched behind its wall. The building is two-storied and about the size of Thale’s establishment. It has no windows, in keeping with the Sooths’ belief that they must remain free of outside influence, and there’s a little extension out to one side, like a short hall that pierces its protective barrier.
I’ve heard that’s where people go to ask for help: No one is allowed inside the temple itself, but they will grant you an audience of conversation there, if they choose, with them staying behind their screening.
Underfoot, the ground cover crunches, and I can tell as I close in that my presence has registered because the smoke drifting out of their chimney changes from black to white. Perhaps it’s the noise I’m making. Maybe it’s some other monitoring I can’t begin to guess at.
White smoke means they will see me. And the fact that I’m going to them, when I’ve never respected the so-called truths they pronounce, is not lost on me.
Any port in my storm of confusion, I suppose.
Rounding my way to the querent door, I slide a panel back and step into a cool, dark space. For a split second, I can’t catch my breath from suffocation, especially as I contemplate shutting myself in here. But this is how it goes, I guess?
I slide the panel back into place and then I sit down on the bench—
A bell rings, my weight triggering the thing, and when I hear footsteps on the far side of what I guess is a thin wall, my heart jumps. In fear. With hope. In sadness.
I’m like a lightning rod attracting all manner of bolts.
In my head, I practice what I’ll say and just come up with jumbles. I’m not even sure why I’m here, and explaining my presence with “my magic compass told me to come” isn’t going to help.
And then nothing happens. There are no more footfalls or voices. No welcome of any kind.
As I continue to wait, I wonder if some of them haven’t abandoned the facility. They’re so close to my village—
There is a sliding noise and a thump, and suddenly the glow of a lantern, diffused through a metal screen of symbols—as well as a person draped in red from the crown of their head past their shoulders.
I’m reminded of the oculus and the Queen who didn’t only refuse to see me, she refused to be the warrior all of us need.
And then I’m not thinking about anything except the presence on the other side. It’s the strangest thing… it feels not like a whoever-it-is, but awhat.
When I’m not addressed, I clear my throat. “I… ah, I am from the village. But I wasn’t there when…”
“I know who you are.” The voice is female, and surprisingly melodic for the power that seems to pulse out of the form. “And I know everything about you.”
Tightening my hands on the lip of the wooden bench, I whisper, “Everything?”
“Yes. And you wish to be advised where you must go. I am to tell you that it is here. You are where you need to be.”
Frustration makes me fidget. “Well, yes. I suppose I must behereright at this moment to get advice. But I need to know where I go next—”
“Your village, you just went there.” The voice is so soft and hypnotic. “And your heart is broken.”
“Yes.” But come on, that’s no revelation. “And what I need to know is what I should do next—”
“It shall be broken further.”
Dropping my head, I resist the urge to yell. “I don’t see how that’s possible after I saw all those people who were sacrificed for nothing—”
“That is not how they died.”
I look at the delicate weave of the screen. “Yes, it was. I saw with my own eyes what was done to my village in the name of purification. They were slaughtered, in their homes, and everything was set afire—”
“We know. We heard the screams, and smelled the smoke.”
Fury licks into my gut, and I shake my head. “And you did nothing? Maybe if you’d gone out there, you could have stopped them. You who are here, in your little sequestered temple, who are supposed to be giving advice from some sacred source, could have actuallydonesomething for once!”
Getting to my feet, I turn away. “This was a waste of my time—”
“If you walk out that door, you will not get what you came for.”
