Brave Story - Miyuki Miyabe [184]
“I think not. Why, the Tower of Destiny where the Goddess lives is surely a hundred, or even a thousand times more magnificent than this,” the chief replied. “The Goddess probably forbade the building of cathedrals to her because she didn’t think the many races she made capable of building anything sufficiently grand enough in the first place.”
The way he said it made it sound like he didn’t think much of the Goddess and her creations. At least not all of them.
“Shall we have a look inside? Get ready to be even more surprised!”
When they pushed open the great doors and walked inside the cathedral, it was like stepping into a sea of multicolored light. Sunlight coming in through the stained glass windows filled the cathedral, washing over Wataru.
On either side of the central aisle were set rows of pews for the faithful to sit while they prayed. At the end of the aisle sat an altar beneath a window of particularly brilliant stained glass. Before the altar stood a stone carving of Cistina. Fresh-cut flowers were heaped in a pile at the statue’s feet.
Here and there, young people sat with heads bowed. A few elderly sat in the pews, quietly reading from books. Walking softly so as not to make noise, Wataru walked up to the altar and examined the statue.
She was a maiden with long hair and a perfect face, wearing a robe with long sleeves and skirts. In her right hand was a scepter set with a gemstone. Her left hand gripped the handle of a mirror held upward toward the sky. The sleeve of her robe fell down almost to her elbow.
“That mirror reflects that which is beautiful and that which is ugly in every man’s heart,” the chief explained. “The scepter in her right hand serves to smite down those who would destroy beauty.”
Wataru took another step forward, his eyes going over the statue from head to toe—when he noticed something about her feet. Though it was hard to see through all the flowers, Cistina was definitely not standing upon the ground. Her surprisingly heavy-duty sandals were standing on something, or someone.
Wataru knelt and moved aside the flower stems. Looking up at him was the face of a waterkin. That looks just like Kee Keema! His expression was twisted in pain. Just behind him, a beastkin reminding Wataru of Trone lay in repose, his head tilted back, his mouth an agonized grimace.
The stone Cistina was treading on their faces, crushing their chests. Wataru abruptly stood. Pam put a hand on his shoulder from behind. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
Almost at the same time, another voice from the right of the altar said, “Branch Chief Pam! So good to see you here.” An elderly man in white robes carrying a silver scepter much like the one the statue held stepped toward them.
“I was remiss in not saying hello sooner,” the chief said. “This is Father Diamon. He’s the most important man in the cathedral.”
Father Diamon smiled brightly and returned the bow. He stood straight as a rail, his wide shoulders and clear eyes sparkling beneath bushy white eyebrows. His perfectly round head was smooth and hairless. Wataru felt overwhelmed. No matter how old this man looked, he certainly wasn’t old inside. Wataru sensed something in him—a fierce spirit. It was almost savage.
“Important? No, not at all. I merely do my best to humbly serve our Lady Cistina.”
“Of course, of course,” Pam said with a smile.
“I see we have a visitor,” Father Diamon said, looking at Wataru. His gaze was cool, calculating, just like the look Pam had given Wataru before.
When the chief introduced Wataru, the priest seemed quite surprised. “To become a Highlander at so young an age, that’s impressive indeed! I thought surely you’d come for an apprenticeship with one of our craftsmen.”
“Wataru is searching for a friend of his. He did say he wanted to visit Toni Fanlon’s workshop, of course, but I’d feel embarrassed for the town if he went away thinking we were all like that strange fellow.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Fanlon…” Father