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CHAPTER 6

I cannot argue what happens after death.  I have no knowledge of such.  But here on mortal soil, I know this: Religion can conquer submissive minds with an axiom that touches the heart, but it can only conquer free minds with an axe that touches the heart.

- Grentus,
Final words on the gallows

            Etyiam flinched slightly at the thump caused by the secretary closing the ponderous door behind her.  The girl now found herself seemingly alone in what she knew to be the senator's inner chambers.  The room was round, at least thirty paces across, and the vaulted ceiling was high enough to allow a game of hurdleball.  About a third of the circular room's perimeter, opposite the door from which she had entered, was a continuous bay of huge, scalloped windows that provided a spectacular view of the city beyond.  It was a city bathed in the deepening orange glow of winter twilight.  She could see many of the city's lights beginning to come up.  There were no lights turned on in the room and the only illumination came from the outside, from the orange tinted city.  Etyiam realized she was inside one of the enormous, ornate turrets that adorned the upper pavilions of the colossal senate building.

            She moved warily toward the center of the room, wondering where the senator was.  Etyiam was surprised to see that despite its vast size, the room was sparsely adorned, especially compared to the lavish outer rooms through which she had passed.  There were very few furnishings.  Centered along the panoramic casement gallery was a massive, but plain, wooden desk.  Its equally unadorned but comfortable looking chair stood behind it, vacant.

            Etyiam was drawn to the glorious view of Uron.  Even viewed from this great height, the capital city stretched to the visible horizon and beyond.

            "Magnificent, isn't it?"

            With a silent yelp, Etyiam spun around to face the voice from behind, but found no one there.  It took a second for her eyes to readjust to the dimness of the room after watching the dusk-bathed cityscape.  When they did, she noticed a small alcove in the wall, not far from the door through which she had first entered.  Inside, she could see the back of a kneeling figure facing the tiny altar within.  The individual was as still as any inanimate object in the room, so Etyiam had not noticed the person.  After a further moment of perfect stillness, the figure raised up its arms, a bit shakily, signifying the end of prayer.

            "Assist me, child," came the voice again.

            Etyiam hesitated for a second.  For an Ordinary like herself to have physical contact with a senator was simply prohibited, but the senator had also given her a direct order and disobeying such was an even greater offense.  The young girl moved to the kneeling figure, but stood idly by, not sure how to proceed.

            "Your hand, child...  give it here."  Etyiam extended her hand out and the old woman grasped it.  The younger female almost winced at the unexpectedly firm grip and had to fight to remain steadfast as the old woman used her arm as leverage to rise.

            When finally on her feet, Ampharix towered a head taller than the petite student, her ornate headdress adding to her already impressive stature.  Without a word of gratitude, or even a glance at her young helper, the great senator walked across the room, the purple silk of her voluminous cassock billowing behind.  She walked silently by her desk and stopped in front of one of the great windows, looking out, her back to Etyiam.

            Unsure what to do, Etyiam bowed, as demanded by etiquette, to the senator's back, though Ampharix likely did not see.  While trying to keep the appearance of respectfully downcast eyes, the young student regarded her superior, whose stoic features she could see profiled in the glimmering city lights.  Etyiam had seen photos of Ampharix when she was her age and recalled being struck by the young senator's beauty.  Even now, after almost a century of life, Ampharix was a striking figure indeed.  Her green Priat skin had held up well to time and didn't seem as thick and saggy as most saurian centenarians.  Though her earlier struggle to rise from prayer had indicated some infirmness, she yet cut a stately figure when upright.

            "Why are you here?" the old matron finally asked, not turning away from the remarkable vista outside the window.

            Etyiam was taken aback by the question.  Had the old politician gone senile?

            "Your matron-ship has summoned me," she answered.

            "Yes...  I do recall that," replied the aged senator, seeming almost contemplative, "My legs may not be what they were when I wore a student's gown such as yours...  but I have not yet lost my mind, child.  Not yet."  The towering Ampharix now turned to face Etyiam and the weight of her foreboding stare caused the young student to unconsciously gasp and take a step backwards.

            "I ask you again, girl," Ampharix sternly persisted, "Why are you here?"

            Etyiam swallowed hard.  She only had one answer, but she didn't want to use it.  Ampharix's cold gaze violated her like an x-ray and she felt naked under the matron's impatient glare.  "I can only assume I have offended my church," the young girl volunteered.

            "You assume..." mimicked Ampharix, not letting up, "and just how might you have offended your church?"

            Etyiam began to pant slightly, trying to cool herself from the temperature in the room, which she felt sure had jumped twenty degrees.  If she had sweat glands, her robes would have been saturated by now.

            "I have been associating with persons that the church has discarded," she hesitantly offered.  Etyiam didn't know why she should resist admitting these things.  It was apparent the senator was well informed of her activities.

            Ampharix seemed to soften a touch; satisfied she had gotten the girl to confess.

            "Why have you done this, young Etyiam?" the senator asked, using the girl's name for the first time, "Why have you shamed your church so?  Why did you do this?"  The old matron produced from the capacious sleeve of her garment a copy of Etyiam's application to be Sarwin's assistant.

            Etyiam looked down at the floor.  She felt genuine shame and could not face the older matron.  "I meant no harm," she eventually choked out, "I only wished to hear what they had to say.  I had no intentions of straying from the ways of church.  I swear on my mother's life I did not."

            If this swayed Ampharix at all, she gave no hint.  "You have no idea who your mother is, child.  You are an orphan.  The church raised you.  The church is your family.  And if the church is your family, then I am your mother."  The old matron gave this a moment to sink in, "...and as such, you remain a part of this family at my sufferance," she concluded, her voice as icy as a stone out of Scoggast.

            Etyiam grew flush at the thinly veiled threat.  Excommunication would be as awful as death to her and perhaps not as kind.  Without the church's authority, her existence would be no better than any other gray-skinned Ordinary; low pay, low respect, low life.  As if that wasn't pain enough, Etyiam truly believed in the goodness of T'Chen.  To be separated from her Goddess by an edict of the church would tear her soul apart.

            "Please," she implored, "I beg your matronship... do not discard me from the ranks of the faithful.  I swear I will reject those whom the church has rejected...  I will pledge my life and my soul to T'Chen.  I will renew my vows and adhere to any penance you see fit.  Please...  I beseech you."

            "Any penance I see fit," repeated Ampharix, "We shall see.  Do you believe in the Goddess, child?"

            "As heaven is my witness, your matronship!" exclaimed the student without hesitation, glad to get a question she was happy to answer.

            "And do you believe in the divine will of the Temple?"

            "To where the church leads, so shall I faithfully follow," replied the girl.  Two easy questions!

            But Ampharix was unmoved.  She held out the application.  "Then what of this?" she asked.

            "I shall tear it to bits and never again share the same air as a heretic!" exclaimed the girl, reaching for the document.

            The senator snatched it away before Etyiam could touch it.  "You will do no such thing, child," she said, turning away from the student and resuming her gaze upon the now nighttime city.

            Etyiam was bewildered.  "I don't understand, your matronship," said the girl, "I wish to serve you faithfully.  Please let me destroy that odious paper and rid my memory of my foolish acts."

            "If you wish to serve me faithfully, then you will proceed as you were.  You will continue to associate with the heretical Sarwin and his profane supporters," instructed Ampharix, "...and you will become his assistant, just as you wished to."

            "I don't understand," argued the girl, "I do not wish to associate with these people."  This was not entirely true, but it was what she thought the matriarch would want to hear.

            The tall senator turned around to face the young student.  "Whether that is true or not is unimportant," answered Ampharix, as if she could sense even the slightest hint of deception, "But you will do what I tell you, regardless."

            "But I do not wish to be excommunicated, my matronship..."

            "Refuse what I ask and you will be cast out for sure!" bellowed the matriarch, losing patience, "Do what I say and I can assure you a profitable future in the priesthood.  There are those more conservative than I who would see you banished to the hinterlands of Garath.  I can protect you from them, if you do my bidding.  Do I make myself clear?  Can I count on you to do as I...  request?"

            Etyiam's mind raced.  Certainly, this was not a request in any sense of the word.  Furthermore, she had to admit to herself that the prospect of socializing with Sarwin, with not only the church's blessing, but also its very decree, was not the worst punishment the old matriarch could have meted out.  This was too good to be true.  There had to be a price.

            "I will obey my church," she finally answered, "though I do not understand."

            "Your understanding is not important, child," replied Ampharix, "only your obedience."

            "I will obey your matronship."

            "Excellent," said the old Priat, with what almost looked like a smile, "I have one other request of you..."

            Here it comes, thought Etyiam.

            "Yes, my Matronship?"

            "It pleases the church to know what its adversaries are up to," explained Ampharix, "Where they go, who they talk to, what they say behind closed doors.  As the heretic's assistant, you would be privy too much of this information.  You will keep me... informed.  And you will tell no one of this.  No one.  Do you understand?"

            A spy!  The ancient matriarch wanted her to be a spy!  She should have seen this coming.  Etyiam was troubled by the notion.  Spying was a form of treachery and the Scrolls were very explicit about treachery.  Considering the power the old senator had over the young student, she should have just accepted the assignment without question, but this concerned her soul and that was the paramount concern.

            "I am troubled, great matron," she said, trying to sound humble and choosing her words carefully, "the Scrolls tell me that deceit, in any form, is forbidden; yet the Scrolls also insist I follow the commands of my church.  Before today, I have never known a situation in which one part of scripture conflicted with another."

            Etyiam had expected the old Priat to explode in fury, but instead Ampharix seemed reflective.  "You are young yet, Etyiam," she said, turning to look back out the window, "and your inclination is to read the Scrolls literally.  Yes, the Scrolls were inspired by the word of T'Chen herself, but the Scrolls were actually written by matrons, who are as infallible as you or I.  How could they not fail to grasp every nuance of meaning in God's great plan?  Try as they might, our language is quite insufficient to capture the thoughts of a God.  Do you see?"

            "I think so," stammered Etyiam, though not really sure.

            "I doubt that," said the senator, "but this is bigger than your understanding, child.  What you need to know is that true, unspeakable evil exists in this universe, young Etyiam, and it is the church's duty to fight it, and to fight it with any means at its disposal.  The future of our people depends on it."

            Ampharix turned and looked at the young student.  Perhaps she could see the doubt in the girl's expression.

            "I mean that literally," the old matron continued, "tell me, child.  Have you ever seen a Vartyiar?  I have.  I don't mean I saw some vision of a demon in a dream, I mean I saw one with awakened eyes.  I felt its horrid hair with these very hands.  Its stink filled my nostrils.  Trust me, child, there is a Scoggast.  It is very real and if we are not careful, it will take over the World.  I mean that in the sincerest possible way."

            Etyiam regarded the old Priat matron.  It was obvious she was telling the truth.  At least, the truth as she believed it.  Etyiam thought hard.  Who was she, a mere child of nineteen years to question the wisdom and knowledge of this great matron?  If she said that spying on a heretic was necessary to ensure the safety of the World, who was she to argue?  Besides, the choice between living as an excommunicated exile, or in the company of the charming Sarwin was an easy choice, once the philosophical concerns were put to rest.

            "I will do as my matronship requests," she finally said, with a slight bow, "but it is still possible I may not be selected to assist the heretic."

            "Don't concern yourself with that," replied the matron, "I assure you that you will be received by him."

            The fix must be in, thought the young girl.  "As you say, my matron," she replied, with another slight bow.

            Ampharix pushed a button on her desk.  Within seconds, the senator's secretary opened the door through which Etyiam had first entered and stood there, waiting for her to exit.

            "Go now, child, and remember our agreement," commanded the senator, "I will expect to see you again soon, when you have something to tell me."

            "By your leave, good matron," said the gray-skinned girl with another bow and then turning, followed the secretary out of the room.

            Passing though the center room with the stolid secretary, Etyiam had to fight to keep the joy she felt from bubbling childishly to the surface.  Though she felt the urge to skip and sing, she mimicked the dignified pace of the senator's assistant.  What luck!  Not only could she openly fraternize with Sarwin under the church's blessing, she was helping save the World from evil to boot!

            In the outer room, she passed the same Ordinary hand servant who had first let her in.  She grinned at him, but he looked away, pretending not to notice the young girl's smile.  Etyiam shrugged and walked out the door.  It was a big city and the evening was on.  She would find someone who would appreciate her good mood.

 

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