The Annals of Orme: Book One

Chapter 5

Zaidna

The Empire of Judath

The Temple of Marin

After slipping past the crowds in the temple’s sunlit foyer, Kirin found the sanctuary of one of its smaller chapels and breathed deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of burning incense. The relative quiet of the chapel, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, did much to calm her frazzled nerves.

Careful to avoid the long, rectangular pillows that lined the blue tiled floor, she kept to the center of the empty chapel as she shuffled to its front, hopping awkwardly as she tried to keep her overflowing bag of books from pulling her off balance. Thank goodness she was still early.

Public religious lectures, which usually revolved around the goddess or the writings of previous Nassés, were held three times a week. Kirin could only imagine how mad Batem would be if she ever missed one, since he and all the other priests seemed to think that the study of religion was just as important as the study of ormé.

Kirin shifted to her right and sidled past several meditation pillows before singling out a plush-looking one right next to the wall in the front row. She gathered up her green skirts and spread them across her thighs as she knelt. Once comfortable, she pulled out a tablet of paper from her bag, as well as a thin, spiraled seashell filled with ink. Placing the tablet on her lap, she sighed.

These lectures hadn’t felt the same since Batem had used her to demonstrate the unquantifiable nature of shadow matter several weeks before. He hadn’t revisited the subject, but she hadn’t forgotten one second of it. Her dreams were steadily getting worse, too, and she could swear that shadow and the Goddess Forest were taking on larger roles night by night.

Kirin blinked, finding herself staring absentmindedly at her bare midriff. She picked a small piece of lint from her navel and dropped it into her bag. At least she could feel some peace here, in a quiet chapel of one of Naltena’s temples. She could almost smell the spirituality emanating from every incensed corner. And what other building boasted such fantastic works of art? Take that filigree on the wall. How was it that the artisan had managed to shape such thin gold wires into a depiction of the goddess giving life to the first of the high races? Kirin found herself wanting to trace each little wire with her fingers. Goodness, where did they all start?

“Ah, Kirin! Good, you are early!”

Kirin yelped and looked up to see Batem’s turquoise eyes examining her from the front of the room. She wasn’t sure when the old man had arrived; he had definitely not been standing on the dais when she came in. Hopefully he hadn’t seen her fussing with her navel!

“Hello, Batem,” Kirin stammered, calming herself. “Are you giving the lecture today?” Batem hobbled across the dais and knelt, with much groaning and back cracking, behind the box-like altar that stood at the dais’s center. The altar was made out of a solid block of white wood, with many glyphs and ornamental carvings of suns etched in its surface.

“Indeed, I am,” Batem replied. “Although this isn’t my usual day to teach. In any case, I am blessed to find you here. My projectionist was not able to attend on such short notice, so I thought that I might have to give my lecture without the use of visual aids.”

Kirin nodded. The work of the projectionists was the only reason she didn’t always fall asleep during these lectures. Their vivid, creative interpretations of the texts using light manipulation made boring subjects much more interesting.

“I wonder,” Batem mused, setting down a thick leather tome on the altar. “Might you be willing to fill in as my projectionist?” He opened his book to a section that was marked with a yellow tassel.

Kirin gripped her writing shell so tightly that it scraped across her tablet and left a jagged trail of ink behind. To project an image of light on a wall or screen would be simple; that only required a basic knowledge of ormé. But to project a scene based on someone else’s thoughts—that was another matter entirely. Kirin was totally unqualified. First, a projectionist had to be an artist with an adequate knowledge of anatomy, proportions, and how light played across surfaces. Second, a projectionist would need to be able to connect her thoughts to the lecturer to provide a direct and reliable link to the thoughts and images that he wanted her to convey. This was a far less trivial task, as any thought-manipulating pattern was very advanced and was generally only known to and practiced by members of the clergy.

“But Batem, trained projectionists are able to create very impressive images!” Kirin mumbled. “I can’t paint with ink and paper, let alone with light. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Nonsense! With your talent, it should be simple to pick up. After all, you are a daughter of the ninth house and are sure to be the Nassé one day. As for your artistic abilities, I have no doubt they’ll be sufficient.” Batem had obviously never seen Kirin’s crude doodles during class.

“All right,” Kirin sighed.

“Oh, good! Now why don’t you come up here and stand beside me? Worshipers will be arriving soon.” Batem tapped his fingers on the open book as he saw Kirin hesitate. “Come along now, we need a few moments to prepare.” He withdrew a pair of spectacles from the folds of his dalmatic and positioned them on the bridge of his nose.

Frowning, Kirin stuffed her tablet back into her bag and rose from the cushion. She adjusted her silk blouse and stepped up to the dais, looking back to make sure she’d be able to see her belongings on the pillow at all times. As she moved to stand behind Batem, she realized that she’d never seen the chapel from this perspective before. Each and every meditation cushion was visible, which meant that every person who attended the lecture would be able to see her looking like a fool.

Kirin cursed inwardly, causing her to curse again for the fact that she had sworn inside of the temple. This was a big mistake.

“I want you to shift focus,” Batem instructed once Kirin ceased her fidgeting. Kirin did as she was told and immediately saw the yellow-white sparkle of primal matter manifesting all around her. “Now, what I’m going to ask you to do requires deep concentration, so pay attention.

“We may not have needed to shift past the first degree of focus in your classes thus far, but the process to reach the second or third degrees is no more complex. It simply requires a deeper focus. Are you still able to see the primal matter in front of you?”

Kirin nodded in response. She was still able to make out the shape of Batem’s body, even though his figure was blurred, and when she squinted, she could almost make out the thousands of configurations of primal matter that made up his skin, his robes, and even some of his internal organs.

“Now, relax your eyes and look a little deeper.”

Excited to have permission to go beyond the first degree of focus for the first time, Kirin exhaled and relaxed, feeling her eyelids grow heavy and vision become a little darker. The colors bled out of Batem’s blurred form, replaced by a startling lack of clarity. Amongst the black and white blobs, she began to see traces of an odd purple aura flowing in waves around Batem’s body. “This is amazing!” she declared, nearly losing her newfound focus in her delight.

“Yes, spirit matter is lovely. It’s thought by some to be produced by the psyche, but we don’t understand its purpose and there is no way for us to manipulate it. Now, shift your focus deeper and stare at my forehead. Most of us priests use the third degree of focus to heal minds and share thoughts, but with skill, it can be used for so much more. When you become the Nassé, you will be called upon to view and interpret the dreams of the three emperors using thought matter. Let us see how you fare.”

Kirin concentrated on maintaining her focus in the second degree, and then sunk slowly into an even deeper focus. She stared intently at Batem’s temples until they faded completely from view, replaced by silver threads flowing loosely out from where his head had been.

“Well?” Batem asked. “Have you managed to switch focus?”

“Oh, Goddess!” Kirin whispered. She felt like she was floating, even though her feet could still feel the ground beneath her. The silver filaments of Batem’s thoughts danced before her like wriggling worms in water. She was afraid to even blink, worried that she could lose focus at any point.

“Don’t panic!” she heard Batem mutter from somewhere in front of her. “Just concentrate. Now, I know you cannot view primal matter like this, but please reach up and feel for the threads of thought about my head. I have released them for you to guide toward your own.”

Kirin swallowed nervously. She desperately wanted to succeed at this, but knew she had to maintain her composure to do so. She raised her hands and slowly began to use them to draw Batem’s thoughts toward her. She couldn’t feel anything in her fingers, but the silvery threads drifted as she beckoned.

“Once you have them, lift them up and try to attach them to your forehead,” Batem instructed.

Kirin drew the threads up toward her face and did as she was told, placing the ends of them against her forehead. Strangely, she could see them hanging over her eyes but couldn’t feel them against her brow. “I think I’ve done it?”

“Good! Let’s test it.” Almost at once, the darkness lit up, and she was standing in a wide green field. A large, wooly animal with long, white horns was lazily chomping on grass a few yards away from her.

Kirin gasped, shocked at this unbidden image. “It’s a poji!”

“Ah, good, it worked. I knew you’d be a natural. If only you were this good at arithmetic.” Kirin could hear Batem grinning. “Now, you may relax and resume normal focus.”

Only too eager to stop seeing Batem’s thoughts in front of her, Kirin did as she was told. Once again, she saw the old man, smiling sweetly up at her, but could still sense their mental connection. “I, uh, don’t suppose you can read my thoughts now, can you?” She blushed despite trying hard not to.

“Don’t be silly; a much more elaborate pattern is needed for that. This pattern allows me to send you images of what to project for the worshipers. That’s all. And don’t worry about damaging my thought strands, my dear; they only go so far. If you step off the dais they’ll come right back to me. As long as you don’t tangle my thought matter up in yours, you don’t have to worry about a thing. Now, when it’s time for you to project, just shift focus to view primal matter as you normally would and interpret my thoughts into images as you see fit.”

Kirin nodded, still uncertain. People had begun to enter the chapel in small groups. The farmers were dressed in plain, pressed linen, and the merchants wore their usual fine baubles and Chalei-imported silks. Lingering toward the back of the chapel huddled a group of young women who were giggling and cooing loudly at something at their center. Spoiled brats, Kirin thought, envious of their nice clothes. As the young women were called back to their seats by their parents, they dispersed, revealing the objects of their adoration.

Kirin gawked. There by the doors stood a young man and a young woman, with matching brown triangle crests tattooed on their foreheads. She couldn’t exactly place which family the crest signified, but based on the nobles’ obvious unease, they weren’t used to worshiping in a public temple.

Kirin watched as the pair moved down the center aisle, eventually slipping into the second row behind where her bag sat unattended. Their clothes were modest by noble standards, but easily rivalled the finest threads of any of the merchants in attendance.

“Oh my, what an honor!” Batem exclaimed as the nobles took their seats. “Why, your crests indicate you must be the western prince and princess! You are Javan and Anji Makivum, if I’m not mistaken?”

Oh, shit! No wonder their crest was familiar. Javan and Anji were the western king’s son and daughter, whose family, along with the eastern king’s, was second in power only to the emperor’s! The Makivums had a summer estate a dozen miles away, but Kirin had never seen any of them in public, much less at a religious lecture at the temple. What were they doing here?

Javan, the western prince, regarded Batem uncomfortably with bespectacled eyes. “Oh, uh, yes. We didn’t mean to make a scene. We heard about these lectures and thought that we might—”

Anji muttered something loudly under her breath, which caused Javan to glare at her.

“Oh, fantastic!” Batem clapped his hands. “I’ve never had the privilege of presenting to a high noble before. Your father must be here for the noble summit. Am I correct?” The western prince and princess nodded. “How splendid! Welcome, welcome! You are in for a treat today. Our little Kirin Toredath is filling in as the projectionist for my lecture. You are probably unaware, but she is a daughter of the ninth house and is currently in training to fulfill her future role as the next Nassé!” Anji and Javan looked at each other for a moment, then nodded back at Batem.

Oh, Batem, please shut up, Kirin thought. She wasn’t the only candidate for Nassé, and considering the fact that she was likely about to ruin Batem’s lecture with her lack of projecting skills, her chances of being permanently barred from the seminary were just as good as her becoming Nassé.

Batem cleared his throat. Kirin immediately averted her gaze from the two nobles and raised her hand in preparation. She shut her eyes, trying to breathe out her anxieties. She would not be distracted by the western prince or princess. She would not be distracted by the western prince or princess. She would not make a fool of herself in front of the western prince or princess. She shifted focus and the glitter of primal matter again filled her view.

Batem nodded approvingly and turned to face the kneeling audience. “Today’s lecture topic will be the Mother Star, and how it relates to our lives here on Zaidna.”

A vision of the night sky flashed in Kirin’s mind before it was gone in an instant. Almost instinctively, she moved to glide her fingers across the primal matter in front of her. She wove a cloud of vaporous light and kneaded it like dough until it became a thin, flat sheet.

She prodded at the sheet of light, using each finger to make portions of it vibrate at varying speeds until the mist shifted into a dark blue field, which she dappled with specks of white by tapping her fingers here and there. At the center of the scene, she traced a shining blue star. At first glance, she thought that this first projection of hers was not so bad. The points of the Mother Star were a little uneven, but it was not unpleasant to the eye.

Batem began describing the nature of the Mother Star, and how it was a fixed point in the center of the sky directly above Judath. While the sun and moon and all the other stars moved with the time of day, the Mother Star always stayed in the same place. Kirin hurriedly followed Batem’s mental commands and lightened her image to a pale blue and added a silver circle with some streamers coming out of it to represent the sun right next to the Mother Star. She had the impression that Batem wanted the sun to move across the sky of her projection, but that seemed a bit too hard to manage, so she drew an arrow.

Batem went on to explain that although Naltena once lived on Zaidna, she now lived within the Mother Star, watching her followers and sending them dreams from afar to help them lead worthy lives.

A painting of Naltena, sitting on a throne of gold, flared into Kirin’s mind. In the painting, a multitude of grateful worshipers sang praises at Naltena’s feet. Kirin frowned. She recognized the painting as the same one she saw every day hanging over Batem’s desk. It was nice that she knew the painting so well, but why did it have to be so complicated? There must have been a million people sitting in the clouds.

Batem cleared his throat, causing Kirin to jump. Unable to stall any longer, she quickly swept her previous drawing off the sheet of light and changed its color from dark blue to gold. Maybe just draw Naltena, she told herself as she brought her fingers up to the sheet. She started with a white oval for Naltena’s head and then added some blue circles for her eyes and a curved line for a smile. There! Now, how to draw someone sitting in a chair?

She had just started to trace Naltena’s legs when someone in the congregation giggled loudly, causing her to slip out of the first degree of focus. She blinked as her creation jittered into normal view. What an ugly mess! Everyone was going to think she was an idiot, or worse—blasphemous. She reddened further as she tried in vain to straighten the contours of Naltena’s bloated face.

Batem ignored Kirin’s embarrassing artwork and continued his lecture into the final judgment of Naltena over each of her people. Kirin hastily threw herself back into the first degree of focus as a quick succession of images came flooding into her mind. She formed a crude image of the Mother Star around Naltena’s throne, then speckled white dots to represent the psyches of the deceased who were traveling to it. She was very familiar with this part of the lecture. Naltena judged every Naltite as to how well they obeyed her will throughout their lives, inviting the valiant ones to live with her in the Mother Star. Those who closed off their minds or willfully ignored her promptings would be expelled from the Mother Star and jettisoned to where the long-dead Anoth dwelt in the—

Kirin was suddenly enveloped by a vision of white tree branches. No longer in the chapel, she found herself standing amongst the trees. She knew she was still in the first degree of focus, but everything around her was solid and filled with colors, albeit muted ones. After a few nervous moments, she became aware of a fair-haired man emerging from beneath a tall stone arch. His face and unusual clothing—everything about him was so real. He was pointing directly at her, saying something, but she could only hear the vague sound of Batem’s voice droning on. In an instant, the vision vanished and she found herself again falling out of the first degree of focus just in time to see her projection disintegrate into nothing.

“And it is in this Void that the disobedient will languish with no potential for—” Batem paused, noticing the failed projection. “What are you doing?” he hissed to Kirin as she cupped her face in horror.

Kirin’s lips trembled, struggling to find any words. “The Goddess Forest,” Kirin whispered back to Batem. “I think I just saw the Goddess Forest. There was a man in the trees.”

“Trees?” Batem’s eyes widened slightly behind his spectacles. “No, no, we are discussing the Void and Anoth’s place in it. Neither the goddess nor her forest has any place in the Void. Please try again.”

Kirin flinched as Batem sent her an image. This was another well-known painting, depicting the Void as a deluge of blackness, with a single shadowy figure at the center, half-shrouded in the dark haze, beckoning the viewer to join him. That would be the Dread God, with his usual mane of wild black hair and beady eyes. This was clearly the image that Batem wanted her to project; was she really so undisciplined that she couldn’t keep her daydreams at bay for ten minutes? She quickly rebuilt her projection slate and shakily drew the Void and the Dread God within it.

“Now, how do we avoid this dire fate and earn our places at Naltena’s side?” Batem inquired rhetorically. “Let us list the ways.”

Kirin moved to sweep the Dread God from her projection but only managed to smear the primal matter into a smudgy mess. Each additional attempt just made things worse until her projection screen was warped out of shape.

Kirin felt a sudden pinch at her forehead, and looked up to see Batem making a yanking motion with his fist. She blinked, unsure of what happened until she realized she was no longer receiving any images from his mind. He had severed their connection! She hung her head in shame. She had done so poorly that he was dismissing her on the spot. Humiliated, she began shuffling down the steps of the dais, looking through bleary eyes for the pillow on which her satchel sat. She plopped herself down, trying her hardest to ignore the sudden murmur of voices surrounding her.

Noticing that Batem hadn’t resumed his lecture, she looked up only to see him staring at her. There was another priest beside him whispering in his ear, and he nodded worriedly a few times before raising his hand to quiet the room.

“I’m afraid we must conclude today’s lecture a little early; you’re all free to leave. May the goddess accompany you in your travels.” He then turned to continue his conversation with the other priest and the congregation began slowly exiting the chapel.

Kirin gathered her satchel on her lap and tried not to move at all, hoping nobody would look at her on the way out. This was the worst day of her life.

Even though she could hear the crowd thinning, Kirin had the nagging feeling that someone was watching her. Was Batem ready to dress her down? She looked up just long enough to see Batem still engaged in a serious conversation with the other priest. Phew. She glanced at the chapel exit only to jump with a start as she noticed Anji, the western princess, staring at her fixedly from the row behind her. “Um,” Kirin stammered.

Anji didn’t avert her eyes. “So, that was interesting,” she commented as she stroked the length of her garnet-colored braid.

“It was my first time—I, uh, had never tried projecting before,” Kirin mumbled miserably.

Anji flipped her braid over her shoulder and extended her hand. “I’m Anji. You’re Kirin, right?”

Kirin nodded, accepting Anji’s handshake with a confused frown.

Anji smiled for the first time, but it seemed forced. She had to be just a little younger than Kirin, but her skin was unusually sallow, and she had large dark circles under her eyes. Still pretty, though. Anji gestured toward Batem with her chin. “Is it true what he said, that you’re that ninth house girl who lives in Marin?”

“I guess so?”

Anji’s smile intensified. “And you’re really next in line to be Nassé? My brother Javan seems to think so.”

Kirin’s face reddened. “Oh no, I think that would be the chronicler or one of the other priestesses. I don’t know why Batem would say that.”

“I see.” Anj’s expression soured slightly. “But surely you’ve met the Nassé. Isn’t there some training you have to go through to even be in consideration?”

Kirin shifted uncomfortably on her knees. “Nobody really gets to meet with the Nassé unless they’re emperors or their families. You’re a high noble. Hasn’t your family counseled with her before?”

Anji snorted. “I’m just the western princess. But not even Tirbeth has managed to see her, and she’s the emperor’s daughter!”

“I really don’t know about any of that.” Kirin quickly glanced at Batem, who was beginning to gather his things. She needed to make her escape before he had a chance to tear into her.

“But the Nassé does elucidate dreams, right? And that’s something that you learn how to do in seminary?”

This was starting to feel strange. “I’m sorry, I’m just an acolyte.” Kirin shrugged awkwardly and stood up, noting that Batem and the other priest had begun looking in her direction again. But before she could plan her exit route, she felt Anji suddenly gripping her arm and pulling it tightly to her chest. What the—? How was she so fast?

“Oh, do stay a little longer if you can,” Anji pressed, chuckling. “I know! You must meet Javan before you go. He’s the one who insisted that we come to this lecture.”

“Uh, okay,” Kirin mumbled, thoroughly confused.

Like a flash, Anji released Kirin’s arm and marched toward Javan, who was again boxed in by a pack of tittering girls. “Away from him, you twits!”

Kirin hesitated. What was all this about? She had never had a noble pay any attention to her before, but certainly didn’t want to be anywhere public for the rest of the day. She really just wanted to go home and take a thousand naps. Suddenly she felt a familiar bony finger tap her on the shoulder. Shit, she was too late!

“Well, Kirin,” Batem began, clearing his throat.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” Kirin interrupted, spinning around and bowing to Batem profusely.

Batem just looked at her with a bemused twinkle in his eye. “We can talk about your projection skills later. We have had a bit of an unusual request come in that resulted in us canceling this lecture. It appears, er, that the Nassé has requested your presence in her chambers. Immediately.”

“What?” Kirin’s mind raced. What had she done to incur the Nassé’s wrath? Had she blasphemed so terribly with her projections? How did the Nassé find out so quickly? “What does the prophetess want with me?”

“I am—not certain,” Batem replied, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “But Vasim here has brought this message directly from the chronicler.” The priest beside Batem nodded slightly, his feathered headdress bowing with him.

Uh oh. This was pretty official if they sent a high priest to interrupt a routine chapel lecture. “Okay. Do I just go there, or—I don’t know where to go!” Kirin began savagely picking at the clasp of her satchel with her fingers.

“Don’t fret,” Batem reassured. “Our instructions are to escort you up to the Chamber of Dreaming right now.”

Kirin opened her mouth in vain protest, but Anji managed to poke her head in between her and the priests first. “Oh no, you’re leaving already?” Anji said in obvious disappointment. “And here I was hoping to hear more about what you—oh! Uncle Vasim, you look so different in your headdress!”

“Shouldn’t you be in bed resting, young lady?” Uncle Vasim asked with a hint of exasperation.

Anji narrowed her eyes and completely ignored her uncle. “Anyway, Kirin, I wanted to get to know you a little better. Tirbeth and I have always been so curious about what it is that priestesses-in-training do. Javan, too!”

“Eh . . . I’m sorry, I really can’t right now,” Kirin stammered, her mind still spinning with the idea that the Nassé urgently wanted to meet with her.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Anji laughed nervously. “We can talk some other time. Maybe I can drop by the temple tomorrow. You’re here studying most of the time, aren’t you?”

Batem and Uncle Vasim gently led Kirin toward the chapel exit.

“We have to at least have lunch sometime,” Anji persisted. “I know of a snack bar that you would just love. I’ll arrange a time and send you an invitation!”

Kirin frowned. What a weirdo! As they neared the exit she chanced a glance over at Javan as they passed by him. He still had a horde of girls hanging all over him, but his bespectacled eyes met hers along with a shy smile. Their brief connection was broken as Kirin walked through the doorway and into the chapel lobby. Huh. Cinnamon-colored eyes.