Chapter Eleven: On Taagsnit Eve
Not everybody had their papers, but you were supposed to have them. They were more or less the same for all of the countries along the northern Sudren coast, and so you could travel from country to country without much trouble, so long as you had your papers.
Usually, the authorities wouldn't ask for your papers unless you were crossing a border or buying property, filing paperwork for a business, and so on - that is, international travel, plus anything that needed a record for tax purposes. However, they would ask in times of strife and civil unrest. Thus, it was important for you to have them available - and, if you were in certain lines of business, to have a set of false papers. Though it was wise to only have one set on you at any given time, because having forged papers was a pretty serious offense in of itself.
Val had never had papers, though she'd seen them often enough. While they included a written description of what you looked like, they were also supposed to include a picture of you. There was a whole cottage industry of artists who would draw a flattering but reasonably-recognizable picture of you for a shilling or two. There was an artist in the Green Procession who made her living doing just that. You were supposed to get both the picture and the description updated every five years, though a lot of people went a lot longer than that. And beyond those first two pages were information about your parentage, your religion, what property you owned, and where you'd traveled.
Val had never thought much about any of that on account of her being an orphan. It had never occurred to her that, for instance, whatever gods there might be might also care what religion you marked above the notarized stamp. Whether or not the gods, if they were real, actually cared, their followers certainly thought they did. When she told Sabine that she was unbaptized, and thus unmarked by the Pale God, the old bondswoman had taken it upon herself to see to Val's proper religious education.
+++++
Val awoke to the smell of baked bread. Her stomach grumbled and she rolled right off of the couch, hopping into her trousers. Actually, they were closer to breeches than trousers, but she'd got everything a bit big so she could grow into them. Once they fit properly, she planned on getting tall boots with silvery buckles, like the kind Ginn sometimes wore.
She'd slept on a couch in Sabine's little storage room. It wasn't as nice as Galvan's bed, but it was far nicer than anywhere she'd crashed in an orphanage. Sabine had enough space for ten more bedrooms, but she'd never bothered inhabiting most of her place.
The bondswoman owned a large building, an old city manse that a petty lord could be proud of, but most of it was dilapidated and completely unfurnished. She had a training arena set up on the roof and some more equipment on the mostly-empty floor below that. In all, it was probably twenty times the area of the little training area Ette managed in his basement back in Wayfair. Below that was another mostly-empty floor, followed by the main floor, which contained all of the living space and business space that Sabine needed, and then there was a basement that, aside from the bathing room, nobody but her was allowed inside. Val desperately wanted to go inside.
Ette and Sabine were in the kitchen cooking up far too much for the four of them. They stood side-by-side in front of two large iron cauldrons, preparing doughballs and dumplings to fry or boil, respectively, while ribbing one another. Sabine was three or four inches taller than Ette and was far from being a dainty willow, but he was broad enough that he probably outweighed her by fifty pounds.
Sabine rubbed at her elbow. "Weather's coming in… it always gives my elbow fits. Good gods, Ette… Is that how they teach you to make dumplings in Wayfair? No wonder the cuisine has a bad reputation," Sabine said.
"And all you're doing is balling up dough and throwing it in oil," Ette said. He apportioned spiced vegetables and a bit of minced meat on the dough, pinched off an ounce worth of dumpling, and tossed it into the boiling water. "And you're not even consistent with the sizes…"
"In case people want different amounts of fry bread…"
"No, because you're shit at rolling dough. Notice how every one of my dumplings looks exactly the same?"
"And each tastes exactly like shite, no doubt," Sabine said. "Let's see which the sept eats more of…"
"You're saturating those balls with spice and sugar. The kids and their immature palates will snatch them up - we'll see which the adults prefer."
"Val, which would you prefer?" Sabine asked. Val thought she'd been pretty inconspicuous about sidling up.
Val wondered whether that was where Ette had got his uncanny ability to tell when somebody was creeping up on him, because it was a trait that both master and pupil demonstrated. She hoped it was something that could be taught, because it would be plenty useful to be able to do.
"I thought we were getting my papers today," Val said.
"Not today," Ette said. "Not on Taagsnit - we're not likely to find a notary or scribe who'll do it for anything less than double the price."
"Oh…"
Val had heard of Taagsnit, of course, but she didn't know much about it beyond that it was an ancient holiday. Nobody made much of a deal out of it in Wayfair, but it was apparently pretty popular in Verdenlecht - Val was starting to realize that religion played a very different role in the two cities, with the Pale Order dominating religious life in Wayfair while several religions jockeyed for position within the duchy.
She helped herself to a dumpling and a ball of fry bread, crisped dough and granules of spiced sugar crunching between her teeth. She reached for another.
"What do you think?" the bondswoman asked.
"They're good… not as good as the ones at the Green Procession, but good enough."
"Good enough?" Sabine laughed. "In that case, you can get the rest of your breakfast at the Green Procession. Go on!"
Val shot in to grab another ball of fry bread, prompting Ette and Sabine to both slap her hand away - but they were evenly-matched for speed and ended up smacking with one another's hands, giving Val enough of an opening to make off with two more balls before scampering away out of range. Laughing, Sabine threw a spoon at her, but she'd been expecting it and dodged.
"What sort of manners have you been teaching that girl?" Sabine said.
"Plenty, but they don't seem to take," Ette laughed. "Want some dumplings to round out that breakfast?"
"Yes, please," Val said. "Your dumplings are pretty good, too. They definitely don't taste like shite."
"High praise, I'm sure."
Val left them to finish their cooking - that was part of their offering for Taagsnit. Each household was expected to offer three gifts: food for the celebration, money for the sept, and people for the community. At first, Val suspected that might mean a human sacrifice, since she didn't really know anything about the old religion beyond all of the stories of gods, queens, kings, and heroes. But Sabine explained that each household was expected to offer their labor or assistance in sept affairs, either to assist the temple itself or, more often, to assist a member of the sept at the priestess's request.
Sabine's twin sister, Oestel, was the priestess of the sept, which was what the Old Sudren religion called their congregations. That seemed like an odd dichotomy - a priestess and a bondswoman as twin sisters. But Val wasn't used to there being priestesses at all. If they didn't bugger little kids, then they had a leg up on the priests of the Pale Order.
She made her way to the back of Sabine's where Ginn was at work hardening some of Sabine's leather. Chem-hardening was actually a sort of magic that required the Gift, so Val couldn't do that part, but she could do everything else, from scuffing the leather and inscribing the symbols of power into the surface (which she did on a piece of practice leather) to preparing the chem and slathering it over every accessible surface of the leather. That was important because whatever didn't get it wouldn't harden. They had to use treated gloves for that bit because the chem would burn your skin, and the fumes burned Val's sinuses even with their cloth face masks.
"Once we've got the chem everywhere good and even, it's time for the real trick," Ginn said. She closed her eyes and said the incantation before jabbing the heel of her palm with a needle and dabbing a single drop onto the armor.
Val felt the word of power, as she always did - an almost-whispered voice reverberating in the back of her head. She'd asked Ginn about that bit previously, to which Ginn replied that she'd never heard the words of power, but it probably meant that Val would be getting the Gift soon. But, she always emphasized, Val shouldn't assume that she would be Gifted, because it was just that: a gift. It was up to the gods to decide who ought to be blessed.
"Then why do they give it to the Pale Order?" Val had asked.
Ginn shrugged. "The Pale God is a god, too. He's just not the only one, no matter how much his devout insists to the contrary."
Val had nodded at the time, but she thought it a lot more likely that the process was random and the gods, if they even existed, just didn't care much about what mortals did. It would explain a lot. But if they were real, she sure hoped they Gifted her soon.
As the day wore on, the weather turned and any thoughts of venturing outside that day were abandoned. As the cold front swept into the city, it brought a cold rain that turned to slush and then to snow. By early-afternoon, the sky was a roil of dark gray tossing down snowflakes and an inch was already on the ground.
Val curled up with a cup of tea and a book on the Old Sudren religion, the religion of the old gods. It was one of the books in Sabine's modest library. Fully half of the books pertained to combat, weapons, and other parts of her job. There was a modest leather-bound book titled 'How to Track' that had been bookmarked a hundred times and the leather had worn from handling. Val would get to reading that one later - she needed to learn about the old ways today, because Sabine had invited her to the sept's Taagsnit festivities and she wanted to know what she was getting into.
Taagsnit is the night of giving thanks, when the followers of the Way thank the gods as well as one another. It is traditional on the evening of the night that each household in the sept should bring offerings of sustenance (food), of maintenance (coin), and of effort (work) to the gathering for the survival and growth of the sept. It is traditional that children of eleven be anointed and inducted into the sept on this night, if they be ready. It is said that on this night, one of the gods will touch the child.
The induction is considered the household's gift of effort, as considerable work will be expected of the child during their training. The children are considered initiates for two and a half years, at which point there is a celebration of manhood or womanhood welcoming the youth as a full member of the sept. At this ceremony, the youth declares with confidence which god or goddess touched them during their anointment and receives a small tattoo of that deity somewhere on their body. The location varies between septs, but in purist septs, the location is on the top of the head and the youth is shaved bald on the dawn of solstice day, said to represent rebirth.
Val ran her fingers through her hair. She liked her hair. Especially now that she was washing it regularly and freely sampling from Ginn's array of products. It was glossy, fiery, and just wavy enough to be noticeable. She hoped Sabine's sept wouldn't make her shave…
That thought gave her a start, because it implied that she had committed to joining the sept. She wasn't even sure the gods were real…
But she'd have two and a half years to learn which goddess had touched her. That would be proof enough if older-Val could confidently declare who had blessed her. Maybe she'd learn when she got the Gift… Ginn had said it would probably be soon.
As Val continued to flip through the book, she realized that her heart was racing, her fingers felt numb, and she hadn't taken in anything from the last three pages. Her mind was racing, because she realized that this was happening. Somehow, it seemed like a bigger deal than all of the craziness of the past three weeks, even though it was just a holiday dinner and a boring ceremony. She realized that Ginn was standing in the doorway, that she'd stood there for a minute or two already. Her hair was braided far more elaborately than usual, with dark coils and twists that wouldn't look out of place on an ancient queen.
"You'd best take a bath now," Ginn said. "I've had your dress cleaned and mended and laid out nearby. Assuming you still want to go."
"Wouldn't want to miss all that food," Val said.
"This is serious, child," Ginn said.
Val set her book down and shot Ginn her best serious expression. "I know. I'm just a little nervous is all. It'll make you happy if I go, right?"
Ginn looked uncertain. "I would be. But you have to do this because it feels like the right thing and not because you want to please me."
Val bit her lip and mulled it over, feeling Ginn's gaze upon her. What did that mean, feel like the right thing? She figured she'd already committed to it in her mind, which must mean it was right for her. "It feels right," she said. "I'll go take that bath."
+++++
They walked through the dark and through the snow. It was only a few blocks, but it felt like a lot further. Eventually, Val discovered that following right behind Ette was a good way to shield herself against the blustery gusts that blew snow into your face. She also hadn't ever gone through the snow in a dress before and felt vaguely absurd having to hike it up a few inches to avoid getting the hem soaked. She had to manage it while carrying a big pot of dumplings, too.
They saw a few other people on the streets, and Sabine recognized most of them, waving and calling out greetings between rushes of wind. Eventually, they found their way to a largish building. It wasn't nearly as fine as the white marble church the Pale Order had erected half a mile to the south - the stone was gray and old and the top half of the building resembled a big pine lodge with a single great chimney billowing smoke against the snow.
Val stepped inside behind Ette and immediately sighed. The air inside warmed her cheeks and the smell of woodsmoke and roasted meat hit her nose.
"Good evening, sis," Sabine said.
The priestess greeting the sept members nodded. "Hullo, Sab. Looks like we've got guests?"
Sabine's sister, the Priestess Oestel, didn't look much like a twin to Val. Where Sabine was big and well-muscled, the priestess was petite and quite slender, though they shared the same braided gray hair. Val wondered whether the style was a cultural thing because she doubted the priestess was a fighting woman. The difference between the Bonnikin twins was even more amazing when Val heard the whole story behind them.
Sabine and Oestel had always been fraternal twins, which meant they were like sisters who happened to be exactly the same age. Except Oestel had been born a boy named Uthre, except she'd been born in the wrong body - this was how Oestel explained it to Val much later. On the night of her initiation at Taagsnit, when she and Sabine were both eleven years old, she'd had a vision of the goddess (also named Oestel), who spoke to her and said that she'd heard Uthre's prayers and would grant a blessing.
At the time, most had been skeptical of young Uthre, though they stopped short of calling her story blasphemous. Then, over the course of several weeks, Uthre slowly changed until her body matched what she felt. The priest declared this proof of her blessing by the gods and, when he asked Uthre what goddess or god had touched her, she confidently stated that it had been Oestel, who was goddess of motherhood, springtime, and the hearth.
Upon hearing this, the priest declared that she would henceforth be known as Oestel so that all would know that the goddess had blessed her. In time, she became his assistant and eventually ascended to become the priestess of the sept. It was hard to deny somebody who had been so visibly blessed by the gods.
If true, that story would go a long way toward addressing Val's doubts about the gods. She wondered whether she would have a vision, too. And she hoped she wouldn't be transformed, unless the goddess wanted to give her a little size so she wouldn't be constantly mistaken for somebody a year or two younger.
Val realized she'd been hesitating at the entryway and letting cold air in when Ette nudged her back. "Go on in. Nobody's going to bite."
She took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold - it felt like a big decision.
OvidLemma
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-Ovid
Chapter Eleven: On Taagsnit Eve
Not everybody had their papers, but you were supposed to have them. They were more or less the same for all of the countries along the northern Sudren coast, and so you could travel from country to country without much trouble, so long as you had your papers.
Usually, the authorities wouldn't ask for your papers unless you were crossing a border or buying property, filing paperwork for a business, and so on - that is, international travel, plus anything that needed a record for tax purposes. However, they would ask in times of strife and civil unrest. Thus, it was important for you to have them available - and, if you were in certain lines of business, to have a set of false papers. Though it was wise to only have one set on you at any given time, because having forged papers was a pretty serious offense in of itself.
Val had never had papers, though she'd seen them often enough. While they included a written description of what you looked like, they were also supposed to include a picture of you. There was a whole cottage industry of artists who would draw a flattering but reasonably-recognizable picture of you for a shilling or two. There was an artist in the Green Procession who made her living doing just that. You were supposed to get both the picture and the description updated every five years, though a lot of people went a lot longer than that. And beyond those first two pages were information about your parentage, your religion, what property you owned, and where you'd traveled.
Val had never thought much about any of that on account of her being an orphan. It had never occurred to her that, for instance, whatever gods there might be might also care what religion you marked above the notarized stamp. Whether or not the gods, if they were real, actually cared, their followers certainly thought they did. When she told Sabine that she was unbaptized, and thus unmarked by the Pale God, the old bondswoman had taken it upon herself to see to Val's proper religious education.
+++++
Val awoke to the smell of baked bread. Her stomach grumbled and she rolled right off of the couch, hopping into her trousers. Actually, they were closer to breeches than trousers, but she'd got everything a bit big so she could grow into them. Once they fit properly, she planned on getting tall boots with silvery buckles, like the kind Ginn sometimes wore.
She'd slept on a couch in Sabine's little storage room. It wasn't as nice as Galvan's bed, but it was far nicer than anywhere she'd crashed in an orphanage. Sabine had enough space for ten more bedrooms, but she'd never bothered inhabiting most of her place.
The bondswoman owned a large building, an old city manse that a petty lord could be proud of, but most of it was dilapidated and completely unfurnished. She had a training arena set up on the roof and some more equipment on the mostly-empty floor below that. In all, it was probably twenty times the area of the little training area Ette managed in his basement back in Wayfair. Below that was another mostly-empty floor, followed by the main floor, which contained all of the living space and business space that Sabine needed, and then there was a basement that, aside from the bathing room, nobody but her was allowed inside. Val desperately wanted to go inside.
Ette and Sabine were in the kitchen cooking up far too much for the four of them. They stood side-by-side in front of two large iron cauldrons, preparing doughballs and dumplings to fry or boil, respectively, while ribbing one another. Sabine was three or four inches taller than Ette and was far from being a dainty willow, but he was broad enough that he probably outweighed her by fifty pounds.
Sabine rubbed at her elbow. "Weather's coming in… it always gives my elbow fits. Good gods, Ette… Is that how they teach you to make dumplings in Wayfair? No wonder the cuisine has a bad reputation," Sabine said.
"And all you're doing is balling up dough and throwing it in oil," Ette said. He apportioned spiced vegetables and a bit of minced meat on the dough, pinched off an ounce worth of dumpling, and tossed it into the boiling water. "And you're not even consistent with the sizes…"
"In case people want different amounts of fry bread…"
"No, because you're shit at rolling dough. Notice how every one of my dumplings looks exactly the same?"
"And each tastes exactly like shite, no doubt," Sabine said. "Let's see which the sept eats more of…"
"You're saturating those balls with spice and sugar. The kids and their immature palates will snatch them up - we'll see which the adults prefer."
"Val, which would you prefer?" Sabine asked. Val thought she'd been pretty inconspicuous about sidling up.
Val wondered whether that was where Ette had got his uncanny ability to tell when somebody was creeping up on him, because it was a trait that both master and pupil demonstrated. She hoped it was something that could be taught, because it would be plenty useful to be able to do.
"I thought we were getting my papers today," Val said.
"Not today," Ette said. "Not on Taagsnit - we're not likely to find a notary or scribe who'll do it for anything less than double the price."
"Oh…"
Val had heard of Taagsnit, of course, but she didn't know much about it beyond that it was an ancient holiday. Nobody made much of a deal out of it in Wayfair, but it was apparently pretty popular in Verdenlecht - Val was starting to realize that religion played a very different role in the two cities, with the Pale Order dominating religious life in Wayfair while several religions jockeyed for position within the duchy.
She helped herself to a dumpling and a ball of fry bread, crisped dough and granules of spiced sugar crunching between her teeth. She reached for another.
"What do you think?" the bondswoman asked.
"They're good… not as good as the ones at the Green Procession, but good enough."
"Good enough?" Sabine laughed. "In that case, you can get the rest of your breakfast at the Green Procession. Go on!"
Val shot in to grab another ball of fry bread, prompting Ette and Sabine to both slap her hand away - but they were evenly-matched for speed and ended up smacking with one another's hands, giving Val enough of an opening to make off with two more balls before scampering away out of range. Laughing, Sabine threw a spoon at her, but she'd been expecting it and dodged.
"What sort of manners have you been teaching that girl?" Sabine said.
"Plenty, but they don't seem to take," Ette laughed. "Want some dumplings to round out that breakfast?"
"Yes, please," Val said. "Your dumplings are pretty good, too. They definitely don't taste like shite."
"High praise, I'm sure."
Val left them to finish their cooking - that was part of their offering for Taagsnit. Each household was expected to offer three gifts: food for the celebration, money for the sept, and people for the community. At first, Val suspected that might mean a human sacrifice, since she didn't really know anything about the old religion beyond all of the stories of gods, queens, kings, and heroes. But Sabine explained that each household was expected to offer their labor or assistance in sept affairs, either to assist the temple itself or, more often, to assist a member of the sept at the priestess's request.
Sabine's twin sister, Oestel, was the priestess of the sept, which was what the Old Sudren religion called their congregations. That seemed like an odd dichotomy - a priestess and a bondswoman as twin sisters. But Val wasn't used to there being priestesses at all. If they didn't bugger little kids, then they had a leg up on the priests of the Pale Order.
She made her way to the back of Sabine's where Ginn was at work hardening some of Sabine's leather. Chem-hardening was actually a sort of magic that required the Gift, so Val couldn't do that part, but she could do everything else, from scuffing the leather and inscribing the symbols of power into the surface (which she did on a piece of practice leather) to preparing the chem and slathering it over every accessible surface of the leather. That was important because whatever didn't get it wouldn't harden. They had to use treated gloves for that bit because the chem would burn your skin, and the fumes burned Val's sinuses even with their cloth face masks.
"Once we've got the chem everywhere good and even, it's time for the real trick," Ginn said. She closed her eyes and said the incantation before jabbing the heel of her palm with a needle and dabbing a single drop onto the armor.
Val felt the word of power, as she always did - an almost-whispered voice reverberating in the back of her head. She'd asked Ginn about that bit previously, to which Ginn replied that she'd never heard the words of power, but it probably meant that Val would be getting the Gift soon. But, she always emphasized, Val shouldn't assume that she would be Gifted, because it was just that: a gift. It was up to the gods to decide who ought to be blessed.
"Then why do they give it to the Pale Order?" Val had asked.
Ginn shrugged. "The Pale God is a god, too. He's just not the only one, no matter how much his devout insists to the contrary."
Val had nodded at the time, but she thought it a lot more likely that the process was random and the gods, if they even existed, just didn't care much about what mortals did. It would explain a lot. But if they were real, she sure hoped they Gifted her soon.
As the day wore on, the weather turned and any thoughts of venturing outside that day were abandoned. As the cold front swept into the city, it brought a cold rain that turned to slush and then to snow. By early-afternoon, the sky was a roil of dark gray tossing down snowflakes and an inch was already on the ground.
Val curled up with a cup of tea and a book on the Old Sudren religion, the religion of the old gods. It was one of the books in Sabine's modest library. Fully half of the books pertained to combat, weapons, and other parts of her job. There was a modest leather-bound book titled 'How to Track' that had been bookmarked a hundred times and the leather had worn from handling. Val would get to reading that one later - she needed to learn about the old ways today, because Sabine had invited her to the sept's Taagsnit festivities and she wanted to know what she was getting into.
Taagsnit is the night of giving thanks, when the followers of the Way thank the gods as well as one another. It is traditional on the evening of the night that each household in the sept should bring offerings of sustenance (food), of maintenance (coin), and of effort (work) to the gathering for the survival and growth of the sept. It is traditional that children of eleven be anointed and inducted into the sept on this night, if they be ready. It is said that on this night, one of the gods will touch the child.
The induction is considered the household's gift of effort, as considerable work will be expected of the child during their training. The children are considered initiates for two and a half years, at which point there is a celebration of manhood or womanhood welcoming the youth as a full member of the sept. At this ceremony, the youth declares with confidence which god or goddess touched them during their anointment and receives a small tattoo of that deity somewhere on their body. The location varies between septs, but in purist septs, the location is on the top of the head and the youth is shaved bald on the dawn of solstice day, said to represent rebirth.
Val ran her fingers through her hair. She liked her hair. Especially now that she was washing it regularly and freely sampling from Ginn's array of products. It was glossy, fiery, and just wavy enough to be noticeable. She hoped Sabine's sept wouldn't make her shave…
That thought gave her a start, because it implied that she had committed to joining the sept. She wasn't even sure the gods were real…
But she'd have two and a half years to learn which goddess had touched her. That would be proof enough if older-Val could confidently declare who had blessed her. Maybe she'd learn when she got the Gift… Ginn had said it would probably be soon.
As Val continued to flip through the book, she realized that her heart was racing, her fingers felt numb, and she hadn't taken in anything from the last three pages. Her mind was racing, because she realized that this was happening. Somehow, it seemed like a bigger deal than all of the craziness of the past three weeks, even though it was just a holiday dinner and a boring ceremony. She realized that Ginn was standing in the doorway, that she'd stood there for a minute or two already. Her hair was braided far more elaborately than usual, with dark coils and twists that wouldn't look out of place on an ancient queen.
"You'd best take a bath now," Ginn said. "I've had your dress cleaned and mended and laid out nearby. Assuming you still want to go."
"Wouldn't want to miss all that food," Val said.
"This is serious, child," Ginn said.
Val set her book down and shot Ginn her best serious expression. "I know. I'm just a little nervous is all. It'll make you happy if I go, right?"
Ginn looked uncertain. "I would be. But you have to do this because it feels like the right thing and not because you want to please me."
Val bit her lip and mulled it over, feeling Ginn's gaze upon her. What did that mean, feel like the right thing? She figured she'd already committed to it in her mind, which must mean it was right for her. "It feels right," she said. "I'll go take that bath."
+++++
They walked through the dark and through the snow. It was only a few blocks, but it felt like a lot further. Eventually, Val discovered that following right behind Ette was a good way to shield herself against the blustery gusts that blew snow into your face. She also hadn't ever gone through the snow in a dress before and felt vaguely absurd having to hike it up a few inches to avoid getting the hem soaked. She had to manage it while carrying a big pot of dumplings, too.
They saw a few other people on the streets, and Sabine recognized most of them, waving and calling out greetings between rushes of wind. Eventually, they found their way to a largish building. It wasn't nearly as fine as the white marble church the Pale Order had erected half a mile to the south - the stone was gray and old and the top half of the building resembled a big pine lodge with a single great chimney billowing smoke against the snow.
Val stepped inside behind Ette and immediately sighed. The air inside warmed her cheeks and the smell of woodsmoke and roasted meat hit her nose.
"Good evening, sis," Sabine said.
The priestess greeting the sept members nodded. "Hullo, Sab. Looks like we've got guests?"
Sabine's sister, the Priestess Oestel, didn't look much like a twin to Val. Where Sabine was big and well-muscled, the priestess was petite and quite slender, though they shared the same braided gray hair. Val wondered whether the style was a cultural thing because she doubted the priestess was a fighting woman. The difference between the Bonnikin twins was even more amazing when Val heard the whole story behind them.
Sabine and Oestel had always been fraternal twins, which meant they were like sisters who happened to be exactly the same age. Except Oestel had been born a boy named Uthre, except she'd been born in the wrong body - this was how Oestel explained it to Val much later. On the night of her initiation at Taagsnit, when she and Sabine were both eleven years old, she'd had a vision of the goddess (also named Oestel), who spoke to her and said that she'd heard Uthre's prayers and would grant a blessing.
At the time, most had been skeptical of young Uthre, though they stopped short of calling her story blasphemous. Then, over the course of several weeks, Uthre slowly changed until her body matched what she felt. The priest declared this proof of her blessing by the gods and, when he asked Uthre what goddess or god had touched her, she confidently stated that it had been Oestel, who was goddess of motherhood, springtime, and the hearth.
Upon hearing this, the priest declared that she would henceforth be known as Oestel so that all would know that the goddess had blessed her. In time, she became his assistant and eventually ascended to become the priestess of the sept. It was hard to deny somebody who had been so visibly blessed by the gods.
If true, that story would go a long way toward addressing Val's doubts about the gods. She wondered whether she would have a vision, too. And she hoped she wouldn't be transformed, unless the goddess wanted to give her a little size so she wouldn't be constantly mistaken for somebody a year or two younger.
Val realized she'd been hesitating at the entryway and letting cold air in when Ette nudged her back. "Go on in. Nobody's going to bite."
She took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold - it felt like a big decision.
OvidLemma
As always, please leave a comment below! Preferably in some sort of poetic format! I love to hear from my readers!
Thanks for reading, and make sure you follow me here to catch my latest releases! I plan on releasing chapters of this story about three times a week, but I haven't decided on what days yet. Advance chapters are available on my Patreon. If you liked this story, don't forget to check out my many other stories Scribble Hub, Patreon, or Amazon (free with Kindle Unlimited)!
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-Ovid
