Another groused, “I drew second shortest.”
“Don’t you want to be here?” Wasn’t attending a Choosing considered a great honor? Lots less work than patrolling or any other duties at the barracks.
The first guard let out a disgusted snort, upper lip curling in distaste. “I’d rather watch my nephews and nieces for a sevenday—all thirteen of them—than this lot.”
The second guard grumbled in agreement.
Well then.
A trumpet sounded, quieting all conversations.
Heavily adorned novices entered from a side archway. Martin craned his neck, spotting Cere in the middle of the group.
Cere stepped past the masses, which parted to let the procession through, making his way to the central circle. Fourteen positions around the Lady’s image, draped in ribbons, lace, and the finest fabrics in every shade imaginable.
Should Martin pray to whatever deity that Cere remain a novice? No good came from promotion in this place.
In the background, a soft, thrum, thrum, thrumof a harp announced the beginning of the ceremony. Four priests and the high priestess climbed the stairs, heads appearing first, then the rest of them. Unlike Dmitri’s ilk, high-ranking priests and priestesses of the temple were usually only seen on holy days.
Or while hunting mages.
All wore white trousers, heavily embroidered with seed pearls, golden clasps securing their long capes to their shoulders.
The current Chosen were shirtless, both male and female, smooth chests gleaming with a shimmer of oil and sprinkled with gold dust. Whoever pleasured them later would be picking off the dust for days. The priests wore no shoes, their filmy trousers clearly displaying the muscular legs underneath.
So different from Father Dimitri’s sect. For a moment, Martin nearly laughed, imagining the man whose face he had never seen so blatantly flaunting his body.
Acolytes came behind, dressed similarly to the priests but in light blue, bearing a litter. A hush fell over the crowd.
The woman on the litter glittered with gold dust from her high-piled golden hair to her toenails. Naked, the embodiment of the Lady herself.
The oracle.
Ageless. Beautiful. Revered.
The voice of the Lady. Long silent.
To a slow drum beat, the acolytes lowered the litter and helped the oracle to her feet, careful to touch only the palms of her hands. To do so elsewhere would smear her gold. Holding still, she appeared a statue. Totally naked, with no hair on her body. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, ruining the illusion of an inanimate object.
The high priestess stood beside her, voice filling the room. “Today is a momentous occasion. Today our Lady will pick from her children for a greater purpose. This is a time-honored tradition, as old as history itself.”
Really? That wasn’t what Dmitri said.
The priestess continued, “For seasons they have grown and learned, worshipped the Lady as she saw fit.” She droned on and on about what an honor would be bestowed this day, the Lady’s greatness, and so on, until Martin’s eyes crossed. When the guards around him started grumbling, the priestess finally said, “Now, the time has come to select the worthy for further service. The Lady has many tasks for her faithful. Step forward for her selection.”
Shortly after the last Choosing, Martin knew from Cere, two acolytes died of fever, leaving two open places to fill. A Chosen had been drained of power for killing the countess. The oracle needed apprentices. The ever-swelling ranks required more teachers. Surely all fourteen in the circle would become Chosen this day.
“Our Lady will now make her selection.”
Priests stepped up from behind, one for each candidate, to comfort them if they failed or guide them in the Lady’s will upon her award. Cere had told Martin the process often enough.
The golden oracle stopped before a young woman, who’d seen perhaps nineteen birth seasons, and closed her eyes. A thrill ran through the crowd, an invisible wave of power.
Magic!
The oracle opened her eyes, lifting the woman’s head with two fingers under her chin. Voice soft and melodic, her words carried nevertheless. “I sense in you great faithfulness, a mind for education, and a heart of goodwill. With your patience, you will guide the novices, suiting them for my service.”
The young woman gave a tremulous smile, wiping an eye with the back of her hand. “Thank you, My Lady,” she murmured, gazing down again.
