Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [54]
Fragrant smoke rose.
The marble effigy knelt, streaked with traces of green moss, her head bowed in modesty.
We knelt, too.
I breathed through a cycle of the Five Styles, clearing my mind. I gave thanks to Eisheth for her gifts of healing and music, and for the kindness she had shown us in sending one of her priestesses to tend to my lady Jehanne’s daughter. I prayed that Eisheth would ever grant good health to Desirée. When we had finished, both Bao and I dipped our hands in the sacred pool and drank the healing waters with their acrid tang of minerals.
It felt good and right.
At the temple of martial Camael, I meditated on the battles I had seen, gave thanks for having survived them, and prayed that Desirée would ever be spared the horrors of war.
I felt myself humble at the Temple of Shemhazai, the greatest scholar among Elua’s Companions. I thanked him for his gifts, and prayed that he would grace Desirée with wisdom.
Bao gazed for a long time at the effigy of Azza, whose gift to the D’Angeline folk was pride and knowledge. Azza held a sextant with which to explore the world in one hand, the other raised in warning.
“What are you thinking?” I asked Bao.
“I am thinking that pride is a dangerous gift,” he murmured. “But betimes a necessary one.”
I prayed that Desirée would find pride in good measure.
At Anael’s temple, I gave thanks for the gift that the Good Steward had given me. I prayed that I might be worthy of it, whatever its ultimate purpose, and that the young princess might grow up to understand the worth of tending to the world with loving care.
We visited the great Temple of Naamah in the City, releasing doves beneath the dome of the temple and laughing, confident in the bright lady’s love. I thanked her for the gifts, so many gifts, that she had given me; and for allowing me to serve as the vessel for her blessing.
I prayed that Desirée would know it, too.
And I understood Kushiel’s worship far better than I had the first time when we visited his temple.
Expiation.
The penitents who sought out Kushiel’s untender mercies had cause. I gazed at the bronze-faced effigy with his rod and flail crossed on his breast, remembering the penance that the Patriarch of Riva had laid upon me. I had not found expiation in it, but nor had I believed myself guilty of sin. Valentina, who had freed me, told me she had found comfort in performing penance for her own sins; and I understood that it was a gift for those in need.
By the expression on his face, Bao was thinking similar thoughts. “I punished myself in Kurugiri,” he said somberly. “This way is better.”
“It is,” I agreed.
There, I prayed that Desirée would never be in need of such penance; but that if she did, she would find comfort in Kushiel’s mercy.
Lastly, on the eve of the ceremony, we paid a visit to the great Temple of Elua.
It was the oldest temple in the City. In the antechamber, a priest and priestess welcomed us with the kiss of greeting and accepted our tithes. A graceful acolyte knelt and removed our shoes and stockings that we might walk unshod in the presence of Blessed Elua, and gave us garlands of dried anemone flowers for our offering.
The ground was cold and hard beneath our bare feet, the autumn grass damp and yellow. Blessed Elua’s marble effigy towered atop an altar beneath the open sky, flanked by four roofless pillars and oak trees almost as ancient as Elua’s Oak in the square of the City.
The statue of Elua smiled down upon us, one hand extended in offering, the other cupped to reveal the mark of the wound he had inflicted upon himself in reply to the One God’s messenger.
My grandfather’s Heaven is bloodless, and I am not.
Without thinking, I summoned the twilight for the first time in many weeks, drawing it deep into my lungs and breathing it out, spinning it around Bao and myself like a cloak.
Bao