Treasures of Fantasy - Margaret Weis [70]
She lay in bed, thinking about Aylaen, about Raegar.
She rolled over, miserable. She woke to the sound of bells.
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The Priestess-Mother herself brought Treia a gown such as she had seen the other women wearing and a cloak. To Treia’s surprise, the Priestess-Mother, who had been cold and insulting last night, was warm and ingratiating this morning. Treia belted the thin woolen gown around her waist as she was instructed and draped the cloak over her shoulders, wrapping the cloth around one arm.
Accustomed to wearing several layers of clothing for warmth, Treia felt half-dressed as she joined the other women who were going to morning prayers.
The Priestess-Mother took Treia by the arm, acting as her personal escort to the Shrine of Aelon. The sun was yet only a pink glimmer in the sky.
Treia had thought they would be returning to the Temple, but the Priestess-Mother informed her that the Temple was where the “children” of Aelon worshipped.
“The common people, Sister,” she explained in response to Treia’s questioning look. The Priestess-Mother sniffed. “Those of us who have dedicated our lives to Aelon are privileged to come together for his worship in the Shrine of Aelon, a most holy place. No one is permitted inside except his faithful servants.”
The Priestess-Mother smiled. “Raegar tells me that you have been converted to the true faith, that you have given your heart and soul to Aelon.”
“I have, Priestess-Mother,” said Treia.
The Priest-Mother cast her a shrewd glance. “Aelon can see into your heart, Sister. If you are lying, he will not permit you to enter this holy place.”
“How would the god stop me?” Treia asked uneasily.
“If anyone who does not believe in Aelon dare to enter his shrine, a mighty wind will lift the heretic up to the heavens, that he may see the face of the god and tremble.”
“And if this person persists in his unbelief?” Treia asked.
“Death is the fate of the unbeliever,” said the Priestess-Mother sternly.
They followed winding paths across the grassy slopes. The paths were thronged. Everyone from the youngest novice to the eldest priest was required to attend morning prayers.
The Shrine was the strangest building Treia had ever seen. The large structure was built of brick and it was round in shape, looking like a kettle turned upside down. The top of the dome was covered in gold and gleamed brightly, making the sun goddess, Aylis, who was just rising, seem dull and shabby by contrast.
The Priestess-Mother said she was needed inside for the ceremonies and hurried off, leaving Treia alone to stare at the arched entryway of the domed Shrine. Treia could just barely make out carved symbols of the suns, held in the mouths of serpents. She recalled the Priestess-Mother’s words.
Death is the fate of the unbeliever.
Treia considered what to do. She was not a convert to Aelon. She thought well of him, but she did not put her faith in him or in any other god. She had given her heart to Raegar, but her soul was her own.
That said, Treia saw no reason to fear Aelon. To her way of thinking, the God of the New Light expended a lot of time and effort to bring her here. He must have a reason.
Aelon would be nice to her.
Treia walked confidently through the door of Aelon’s shrine.
The god did not disturb a hair on her head.
CHAPTER
5
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BOOK TWO
Treia gazed about the Shrine. A large hole in the roof, like an eye, stared down at the people crowded inside. The Priest-General conducted the service, which was extremely long. He stood on a spiral wooden staircase that placed him above the heads of the crowd so that everyone could see and hear him. His voice was loud and carrying. His exhortations roared through the building, his voice reverberating off the stone wall and rumbling down like thunder from the ceiling. The worshippers around her paid close attention and would often raise their voices in