A/N: Answers some questions about Jinglenob and Kienta's muteness, at least a little, in this chapter. Also WARNING! Connotations to religion, and religious World Building in this chapter!
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The Journal of
Kienta Bails
Tuesday, April 7, 246
Despite going to bed early yestereve, as the Court Day meant us Evening Watch Dogs and Puppies wouldn't be walking our Watch, I woke up at four of the morning on my day off, Jinglenob yawning in my face, with a case of morning breath so foul I wondered if he'd been eating scummer all his life.
Escaping that nasty surprise, I stumbled about my rooms, and managed to dress myself in simple brown leggings and a gray tunic, before gathering all the Player's garb I'd worn the week previous, and dumping it into a linen bag. I'd drop it off at Mama's when I stopped by to pick up my Priestess robes, so that they'd be clean and ready tomorrow.
"C'mon, Jinglenob," I muttered, yawning, and I pulled on my uniform boots and flung the linen bag over my shoulder, grabbing my brute's rope as I led him out of the lodgings. Not many were up and about, this time of day. Drunkards were staggering and stumbling their ways to somewhere they could sleep, stall owners and food shops were just beginning to start cooking their fare. Night Watch Dogs wandered aimlessly, boredly, without even the courteously of a greeting nod in my direction. An unlucky few were stumbling their way down towards the Waterfront District, to begin their Dockwork, or looking for said work.
Mama's house was dark, but I'd barely stepped onto the path when the front door opened, and Mama stood there with a sleepy smile, my robe's in hand, the black cloth looking bulkier than I'd last seen. I arched a brow at that, and set my linen bag down next to her feet.
"Ye've got a Novice ta be takin' wich'ya now, Sweetling," she said, and pulled an odd contraption of Black God Priestley wear from my own. She handed me my robes and, bemused, I neatly pulled them on, tucking my bright hair under a sheer black scarf to turn the ice-blond strands gray, to match the Priestess gray hems that lined the arms and underside of my Temple garb. I turned and watched as she neatly dressed Jinglenob up, his cord curled up on the ground where she'd left it.
Strang black leggings enfolded his four legs, held up by a black-dyed strap of leather across his shoulders and lower back. A black scarf wrapped around his neck lightly, and a homemade black robe, edged in Novice white, tied snuggly at the base of his throat, the hood hooking over his ears neatly, and the attached black veil sliding loosely over his muzzle in proper fashion for a true Priest, as my dog stared up at me with a peculiar, somber expression.
"Now 'e's fit fer Temple," Mama declared, before she stood and turned to give me a hug, kissing my cheek. "Black God bless, Kienta," she murmured, pulling my hood up and blinking tear-bright eyes.
"Black God bless, Mama," I murmured, and kissed her cheek in reply, before I gently closed my own veil, dressed now as a proper Black God Priestess, on business (were I not on business, both veil and hood would be drawn down.). Nodding my head to her, I tucked my hands into my sleeves, and led the way silently towards the Temple District, Jinglenob walking silently at my side.
"You're a bit God-Touched, aren't you," I murmured to him as we walked, watching as early morning mots and coves moved quickly but respectfully from my path, sending confused, disbelieving looks at my dog as we moved through the streets. Jinglenob made a low, huffing sound, and I hummed, not wanting to question further while still feeling inordinately curious.
If you poke at the Gods doings, they're liable to poke you back.
Still, it would explain both his intelligence and his sudden taking to me, as most fighting dogs were more likely to bite you then let you near them.
Mayhaps I should have given him a better name.
The main roads I take to the Temple District, lead me through the end of Patten, and the end of Upmarket, before a slow incline through higher-class streets leveled out to the guarded gates of my destination. I nodded silently at the guards, Warriors of one Temple or another, and they let me through with cordial nods in reply, though their eyes lingered on Jinglenob. They said nothing, however, and we carried on. Pass the Wavewalker's blue Temple, and several others from all over Tortall, even groups of shrines for the various Trickster Gods, as none were foolish enough to risk the wrath of whichever Trickster they'd insult by claiming to be their Priest or Priestess.
At last, the Black Gods Temple stood before me, a dark, gray-marbled Temple, with veins of obsidian coiling through it in whirls and angled lines, like lightning and dust-spinners etched into the stone.
"Friend Bails," a low, soothing voice greeted, forcing me to pull my wondering eyes from the depictions in my Temples walls. Standing in the open doorway of the Temple was the High Priest, Tomlyn Locks, his hood down and veil unworn, stating he had no current business. Quickly, I lowered my own hood and veil, and inclined my head deeply.
"Friend Locks," I greeted respectfully; his deep-set green eyes watched me serenely, before lowering to observe Jinglenob, who had somehow undone his own veil and knocked back his hood (the God Touched belief has grown stronger, and I am mostly sold upon that idea).
"You have brought with you one who wishes to join our ranks?" Locks asked gently; I inclined my head.
"My companion, Jinglenob Bails," I introduced; Locks' slightly-full lips twitched beneath his sharp nose, and he inclined his head.
"Welcome, then, Novice Bails," he greeted, before gesturing the two of us into the Temple. "We have work to be done." I nodded, and pulled both my hood and veil back into place, doing the same quickly for Jinglenob, before we followed the High Priest inside.
The smell of incense was familiar and soothing from where it wafted from the prayer stalls just inside the doorway. There, one could buy prayers, incense, and small prayer-candles, and light them in the ritual basins that lined the room, for personal prayers and silent contemplation. If those grieving did not wish to be alone, they could join the Novices and occasional Adepts upon the wooden pews farther into the room, before a small dais, where the High Priest or Priestess (Lady Oswen Stonuels of Tusaine, second daughter to Duke Addicus Stonuels, who owned a very impressive number of quarries where criminals were sentenced) would give a sermon upon the Peaceful Realms, and the Mercy and Kindness of the Black God.
Two doors were placed beyond the dais, hidden mostly in shadow. One led to the Cleansing Hall, where the dead were taken to be washed, and prepared for their burial, should someone pay for it. Unclaimed dead, or those who cannot afford a burial, are cremated, to prevent the spread of diseases and plague. Should the family, loved ones, or friends be unable or unwanting to do the cleaning themselves, or if the dead has no one to claim them, then it is the job of myself and the other Priests and Priestesses to do so. Adepts were allowed to observe, and only expected to assist when the number of dead grew too high for us to proceed.
The second door lead to the Private Sanctum, where those who wished to follow the Black Gods' Option, but did not want their family or any other to deal with finding them, could die in comfort and security, and trust that their body would be well taken care of.
There would be no sermon for a long while, however, as it was moving into late spring, and the number of bodies being brought in from the Lower City and Cesspool, as well as other Districts, was steadily rising higher.
"Novice Bails, please join your brothers and sisters to begin your lessons," Locks ordered Jinglenob gently, and my dog huffed out an agreeing sound quietly, before leaving my side to join his fellow Novices, most of them little lads and gixies of but twelve-years-old, the youngest one can begin training as one of the Black Gods' worshipers.
I followed on, as Locks led me into the Cleansing Room, which held a large, empty space and a metal table in the center, with a smaller table covered in a neat pile of folded linen sheets and a box which held several tools to help keep the dead from falling apart set directly next to it. The floor held several small grates, for draining the water as the bodies were cleaned. at one end of the metal table was a barrel, which was regularly refilled by Adepts with water from the well behind the Temple. There were two doors here, as well. One I knew led to the Cold Room, a magic'd room where the bodies were placed so that they did not rot any longer, until they could be seen to. The other door was the Closet, where the donated clothes was.
(Often the nobles feel like they've done some good deed that absolves them of all wrong, when they leave their fancy cast-offs for the dead. I just think that, if more of their coin went to helping the living, mayhaps not so many dead would need the donated clothes.)
"You'll be needed here for a while, I'm afraid," Locks informed me as he handed me the Black God's Assistant's Medallion (A simple, obsidian circle, magic'd so nothing would stick to them that wore it. It meant that no blood or scummer or elsewise nasty business would dirty up my robes.) "Several of our fellow worshippers have deigned from showing, as of late." I nodded, and watched as he disappeared back into the main chamber.
Taking a deep breath, I entered the Cold Room, and grimaced at the seven bodies laying already in there. Four were mumpers, and well on their way to rotting. Two were river dodgers, and looked like they'd both gone out in a fight. The last was a young mot who looked to have taken the Black God's Option, her wrists slit and dressed in her best wool dress and slippers.
She reminded me too much of those two nameless mots in the alleys, so I quickly turned my attention to the mumpers, moving one into the Cleansing Room, and onto the metal table.
The poor cove I'd picked was a rotting mess, and I would always be grimly grateful for the amount of magic that kept the smell from the bodies once they entered the Temple.
"May the Black God guide you swiftly to the Peaceful Realms, my friend," I murmured to the corpse. "You deserve the rest." With a sigh, I got to work.
I wont write about the time I spent, cleansing the dead. It isn't work one speaks of, not for embarrassment or any such fool thing, but out of respect for those who've gone on to the Peaceful Realms. The body is naught but a shell, once the soul has left it, but it t'was a shell that had cradled and cared for that soul. 'Tis disrespectful, to speak of it, when you strip from it the signs of its trials.
Instead, I shall tell you that I spent many hours in that room, and more dead then those seven came to me. For a short time, High Priest Locks brought in the newer Adepts, so that they could observe a proper Cleansing. I paused near-abouts ten of the morning to eat some food with High Priestess Stonuels when she arrived to take over the Novices.
When noon came, I prepared to take my leave, ready to go and assist my Mama and siblings with the baking, when a new body came in. This one was a gixie, no older than seven, journeying with her weeping mother, and older brother (he looked to be about ten, mayhaps eleven years of age).
The mot looked so lost in her grief, the lad shaking and shell-shocked, and the poor gixie had been roughed up, I didn't hesitate to step forward and clasp the mot's hands gently in mine.
"Mother, she is safe within the Peaceful Realms, now," I told her softly, as her brown, teary eyes stared at me. "What lies before you is naught but the shell that cradled her here. The Black God is both kind and merciful. She knows no pain, sorry, or fear now. She is safe." The mot shuddered, and closed her eyes. I glanced at the lad, and nodded him softly towards the door. He stumbled over there shakily, and I knew he'd be cared for, either pulled as a visiter into the Novices, or comforted by one of the other Friends, most probably Priestess Bellona Reed, who was a kind, matronly woman who always took the grieving in hand, especially the children.
"Would you like help, in cleansing her?" I asked the mot kindly; she nodded jerkily, and I led her carefully to the table.
"H-her name is Siana," the mot whispered, as she stood, shaking hands curled into her gixies bloody hair.
"A pretty name," I murmured; the mot would be no help, as most were when their children lay here. I listened to her, however, as she spoke of her child's life, while I washed the dirt and blood from her small body, removed her stained and filthy Cesspool garb, and replaced it with a soft white dress and loincloth from the Closet. The gixie had been blond, her untangled hair (which her mother had slowly brushed while telling me shakily about how much little Siana had loved the action) reached her shoulders. Her mother braided it with a white ribbon, and I set a headband with a tiny row of flowers onto her head.
Her bruised covered by magic'd creams, cleaner and better dressed than she'd been in her entire short life, little Siana looked like she'd have been the happiest little gixie in all of Corus.
I hoped the Black God has flowers in the Peaceful Realms, because little Siana looked like she'd enjoy a field of them to play in while she rested.
"Thank you," her mother, who's name I finally learned was Gioney Nettlebind, whispered. I bowed my head to her, before I left her to go retrieve her little lad.
I found him sitting with the Novices, arms curled around my Jinglenob's shoulders, and listening intently to what High Priestess Stonuels was teaching them. I walked over and gently touched the lad's shoulder, kneeling down to hold his eyes. They were dark blue, with some gray in them, like the sea with a storm on the horizon.
"Your sister is ready, young Gary," i told him softly; he looked down, but nodded, reluctantly releasing his hold on Jinglenob. I took his hand in mine and led him toward the Cleansing Room.
"T'was an acciden'," he told me quietly as we neared the door; I looked down at him with a blink. He looked inordinately somber for a young lad, though he'd all rights to be. "We was playin', and Sia', she's al'ays goin' abou', tryin' ta be bigg'r 'en she is, y'see? She though' she t'was big enou' ta be roughin' wi' us lads, but we sen' 'er 'ome instead. She go' mad, 'n ran down th' stree', sayin' she was gonna be tellin' ta Ma. She tripped, on th' cobbles, an' 'it 'er nob on th' corner." Tears slipped down his face as he looked up at her. "I carried 'er 'ome as fas' I could, an' she was still breathin' an' th' like, but, by th' time we was in th' Goddesses Temple, she was wi' th' Black God." I set a hand on his shoulder, and stopped him before the door of the Cleansing Room. I knelt down, and turned him towards me, holding his eyes with mine.
"Things like that happen, lad," I told him quietly, and slipped into Cesspool cant myself, relaxing him further. "Little'uns play an' git hurt an' me God comes an' leads 'em on ta the Peaceful Realms ta rest. Is apar' o' life, little lad, an' no more yer fault th'n mine." He sniffled, and swiped his sleeve over his face.
"D'ye, d'ye tink th' Black God'll le' me play wi' 'er, wh'n I d-die?" He asked me; I pulled him gently into a hug, stroking his dusty hair softly as he wrapped his arms around my neck and buried his filthy, tear-streaked face against my shoulder.
"Aye, lad," I murmured. "Th' Black God is th' Kindest, an' the mos' Merciful. He trea's little'uns th' kindes'. I tink 'e'd le' y'play wi' 'er agin, no doubt 'bout it, lad." He nodded, and clung tighter to me.
"W-when I ge' ta bein' twelve," he whispered. "I tink I may come 'ere, an', an' be one o' th' Novices."
"If ye wish it, ye'd be welcome, lad," I told him; he took a deep breath, and pulled back, wiping his face firmly and straightening up. I stood, and stroked a hand through his hair again, before opening the Cleansing Room door, and leaving him and his mother to grieve in peace.
After I sent little Siana to be cremated, and gave her mother a pretty clay vase to hold her ashes, I bought a handful of prayers and incense, and shared them with the Nettlebind family. Once I finished praying, for the dead I dealt with on Watch, the dead I'd cleaned today, and the Nettlebinds themselves, I put back my Cleansing charm and gathered Jinglenob. Our hoods and veils down, we walked home.
It's a honorable work, being a Priestess, a Friend, of the Black God. Hard, and hurtful, at times, but honorable. I regret nothing of my work there. Ever since I was a babe, and Papa would take me to the Temple with him and a few of my older siblings, while Mama worked with the rest of said siblings, I'd found peace and happiness there. I think it's one of the reasons for my self-made muteness, because there was something awe inspiring about the serenity and solemn, soothing way of the Temple. Silence made it easier for the Black God to find you, for death is naught but the silencing of life.
Yet, despite all that, there's something to be said about the feeling of taking off the habit, and being just Kienta again. Mama and my siblings, they never bother me on Temple days. Instead, they let me work off the hurt, the energy, and bury my hands in dough and mix and selling to customers. Jinglenob found quick work in pulling a small wagon about filled with goods, while Tinsle and Siarana and their Rusher guard traveled about the Market and street with him, using their young Player abilities to gather customers and sell.
It's refreshing, to be standing behind the counter, and worry naught about Rats or murderers or the dead, and just about money and food. I made a point of checking the rare silver that came across our counter, but not many thought much of it. After all, most of our goods could be bought in coppers, with the rare copper noble, and silver, while wanted, wasn't often seen.
"Three cheese'n meat fritters, a raston, and four cinnamon pastries, Bails," a familiar voice ordered; I blinked up, gawping at Finch and Ferrows as the two stood there, smirking at me. They were dressed in clean tunics and breeches, dressed for comfort on their own day off. I stared a moment longer at my Dogs, blinking, before I cleared my throat and nodded.
"That'll be a copper noble an' three coppers, please," Jesebel informed them, tossing her beautiful red hair automatically, though it was held back in a bun. Flour smudged her freckled nose, and she grinned impishly up at my Dogs while I gathered their treats and settled them into a linen-lined basket. "And fer two more coppers, y'can keep the basket. Elsewise, y' gotta return it. They're all magic'd until they're bought, so no'un will forget ta return 'em." Finch raised his eyebrow at me, and I just shrugged and smiled easily. Ferrows paid, absently scratching at the scar on his forehead, before the two of them wandered easily off to the side, obviously deciding they'd stay about, most probably to watch me.
"Them is Kienta's Dogs," Jorath said absently; I nodded and Jesebel shrugged. He gave my sister a confused look. "An' you charged 'em full price?" She smirked slightly, and I rolled my eyes.
"They's not Dogs t'day, now is they?" She asked, once again making the motion to toss her hair, before she stopped with an irritated huff.
Just then, Maggie and Fintel showed with the next cart of goods, there magic all a'glow and keeping the wonderful smelling haul warm. Quickly, Jorath and I moved to move the food into the building, while Jesebel manned the counter. Just as we were finishing, Siarana and Tinsle and their guard (today is was Kindle's friend Mylir Thrust, who worked for the Chief of Patten District, Gaves.) returned to refill their cart, Jinglenob panting away, happy as a pup playing fetch.
"Kienta, my love, my darling!" Mylir declared dramatically, moving to try and wrap an arm about my waist, even as I dodge with a playful wink. He was a handsome cove, with honey-brown hair and dark brown eyes and a lean body that spoke of speed and the sword on his hip. "It's so rare to see your beautiful face, when you're always so busy trying to bash in the nobs of my mates and me!"
"Mayhaps if your mates and you didn't play with the Rogue and that Chief of yours, you'd see her more often, Mylir," Jesebel called teasingly, while the Rusher gave a dramatic sigh and slumped dejectedly against the wall of our bakery, artfully showing off his muscles as his tunic tightened against his belly. I eyed him appreciatively as I placed baskets of food on the little sisters wagon and slipped Jinglenob half of a meat pie I'd been absently nibbling on. From Mylir's smirk, he knew I was looking, but come now, there's no trouble in looking.
Kindle would kill him, though, and I've no wish to hobble my Papa, or see him dancing on Executioner's Hill, so all I'd do was look.
"Move on, you lout," Jorath ordered the Rusher, pointing over as Jinglenob began to pull his loaded wagon off. Mylir winked at me and strutted off.
I enjoyed the view from behind, as well.
"Bad, bad Kienta," Jesebel teased, even as she eyed him appreciatively as well. I sent her a stern look. I might look as I like, but Jesebel was twelve, and wasn't to be even thinking about looking 'til she'd reached at least fifteen. Jesebel huffed, knowing my thoughts, and moved back into the kitchen as I replaced her behind the counter.
"Popular, ain't'cha, Bails?" Ferrows asked as he put their empty basket on the counter, munching on his raston while Finch carried their cinnamon pastries. I couldn't help but wink up at him with a wicked grin, and he laughed harshly, while Finch smirked.
"See you for Watch, Bails," the black-haired cove said, before he led his blond partner off.
"I heard they was bardashes t'gether," Jesebel murmured to me once they were well out of hearing. "But tha' they'd no mindin' of sharin' a mot between 'em, occasionally." I rolled my eyes, and made a firm gesture at her.
It's no business of yours. She huffed but got back to work.
It was a good day, with plenty of profit, and we returned home to Mama's with only two baskets of food as we swapped out with Nikolai, Oriver, and Cail for the Nightmarket handling. Mama had us set the left overs on the counter, to be sold for a single copper the next day. She handed me my linen bag of now-clean Player's garb, and I took Jinglenob home, and set down here to write this as the night grows dark. I will sleep now, as Jinglenob has already moved to do, and hope tomorrow has no truly nasty surprises awaiting me or my Dogs.
Black God bless and watch over us.
A/N: This chapter was harder to write than I thought it would be. It's easy to keep in character when you're just writing certain scenes from the actual book, just from anoter character's point of view, but just writing that character as is, in their own setting, and working with information that's not expounded on in the actual book? It's kinda difficult.
Anyways, please review!
VOCAB
Bardash - Male homosexual
Black God's Option - Suicide
Friend - Proper Title for all Priests and Priestesses (High and Not) of the Black God.
Black God's Temple
In order from lowest echelon to highest
Novice - Apprentice. Youngest age they're allowed to join is twelve, but can join at any age thereafter. Required to visit the Temple four times a week for two years. Sit through sermons and lessons with the High Priest or Priestess. Do chores around the Temple.
Adept - Journeyman. Required to visit the Temple twice a week for a year. They may observe only during Priestly duties (such as the Cleansing of the Dead), and are allowed to sell the Prayers, incenses, and prayer candles of the Temple. Also required to organize the Closet, and mentor the Novices.
Priest(ess) - Intermediary. Not required to visit weekly, but it's prefered. They are the ones who Cleanse the Dead, give comfort to the grieving, and provide advice to those who ask of the Black God and his Peaceful Realm.
High Priest(ess) - Master. To have become such, the Priest(ess) must have lived at the Temple for two years, and performed a pilgrimage to another country for a year. Most go to Carthak, and its large universities. Their jobs are to teach the Novices, mentor the Adepts, give the Priest(esse)s' their duties of the day, keep the Temple's moneys in order, visit the other Temples when needed, pray at the burials (especially for fallen Dogs and Nobles, along with the High Priest(ess) of Mirthos and the Goddess Temples), give prayers to those sentenced to Execution, give sermons, guard and watch over those who choose to follow the Black God's Option, and generally spread the word of the Black God.
In general, those who follow the Black God care for the Dead and Dying, and do not judge or mock others, while they wear their robes. They offer forgiveness, peace, serenity, and a quiet atmosphere in which the grieving find comfort, and the lost find a place to rest. Often the beggars and homeless can find a warm place to sleep and some food within the Black God's Temple, though it's rare that it is so, as it is the Death God's Temple, and many fear death.
Kienta is a Priestess, and Jinglenob is a Novice. Jinglenob is allowed to be so, despite not being human, because 1.) he's God Touched, and 2.) The Black God takes all souls to the Peaceful Realms. Even animals. So, having an animal work within the Temple, while unusual, is acceptable.