“Whatever wisdom I have, Father Berin, comes mostly from knowledge of my own limitations. I have no knowledge of this artefact, nor its meaning to the people of Petrodor. Tell me what you think I should do.”
Berin looked at Kessligh for a long moment, his head faintly to one side. “And how is it that you became so lapsed in your faith, Yuan Kessligh?” His manner suddenly wise and assured, as though he now found his slippered feet upon confident ground. “I know a little of your upbringing amongst these alleys. Your childhood was hard, but no harder than many others.”
Kessligh folded his arms. Sasha watched curiously. Searching his face for signs that she alone might notice. “The faith and I had a little disagreement,” Kessligh said simply.
Father Berin nodded, lips pursed. “Please tell.”
“The Nasi-Keth offered solutions. The priests offered prayer. I preferred solutions.”
“But prayer itself is a solution, Yuan Kessligh. And most of your Nasi-Keth brethren insist that Verenthane and Nasi-Keth teachings each complement the other. The Nasi-Keth teach knowledge that improves people's lives, and prayer gives the Nasi-Keth members a sense of how to implement such knowledge so that it shall best serve the will of the gods.”
“Exactly,” Kessligh said firmly. “There should be no division. The Nasi-Keth are not just a society of useful skills, Father Berin. We are not merely a collection of scholarly learnings on medicines and advanced trades. We exist to expand minds, Father. What is the use of wise and clever hands, when the head remains as clumsy and stupid as before?”
“Ah!” said Father Berin, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “So this is the source of your contention-your brethren should believe what you believe, or else they are stupid. How does this make your beliefs more enlightened than my faith?” Sasha grinned, and smothered it behind her hand. Berin glanced at her, smiling. “Your uma is familiar with this train of debate, I see.”
“You have no idea,” said Sasha, with feeling.
“Of course they should not believe what I believe,” Kessligh replied, as calmly as he'd ever instructed his argumentative uma. “The Nasi-Keth have no dogma, that's the whole point.”
“No dogma except that they should ideally not be Verenthanes,” Berin countered. “Which is a dogmatic view, no?”
“A philosophy of tolerance cannot be tolerant of all things, Father,” said Kessligh, with an edge to his voice. “A philosophy of tolerance cannot tolerate intolerance. A philosophy of freedom cannot tolerate slavery. A philosophy of plenty cannot tolerate starvation and a philosophy of abstinence cannot tolerate gluttony. That would be to welcome the wolf into the chicken coop, to encourage the very thing that would be the philosophy's destruction. I promise you, the day that the leaders of the Verenthane faith can prove to me that the faith need not be dogmatic, I shall become more tolerant of your beliefs. Until then, we are helplessly at odds.”
“Tell me, have you seen the beautiful paintings Master Berloni puts on the ceiling of my temple?” asked Father Berin. “Ah, they are marvellous. Such free expression, such unrestrained artistry and creativity. There are freedoms of expression within the faith that you fail to credit us with.”
“They are very pretty,” Sasha agreed. Father Berin favoured her with a smile.
“And they would not exist should the high-slopes priesthood care even a little what goes on in a lower-slopes temple, and what adorns its ceiling,” Kessligh said firmly. “And they should not exist had the inspiration not first arrived from the Saalshen Bacosh, where the faith and the serrin have mingled so much more forcefully than here.”
Father Berin shrugged. “Even so.”
“Could you refuse the archbishop?” Kessligh asked, bluntly. “Could you defy his instruction, in any matter?”
“The archbishop rarely gives such instruction,” Berin replied, somewhat less ebullient than before. “Such is not how the parishes function, we are-”
“You could not,” Kessligh answered for him. “He is your lord, and you owe him your obeisance. And you claim an absence of dogma in your faith? A freedom of thought? Do you see why I can't let you have the star, Father Berin? Why it would be profoundly foolish of me?”
Father Berin sighed and scratched at his beard. From the docks below, the sounds of human commotion seemed even louder-argument and conversation, and many people pressed close together.
“The people grow restless, Father,” said Kessligh. “What do they want?”
Father Berin pursed his lips. Tested the grip upon his cane, adjusting his weight and stance. “To know why,” he said at last. “Fate is a precarious matter in calamitous times. They wish to know their fate. They wish to know if they have been blessed, or cursed. They fear for their families, especially for the little ones. And so they look for a sign.”
“And of course, I have to give them this sign,” Kessligh added, with evident sarcasm. “As if it were from the gods themselves; who are evidently far too tardy and bored with human concerns to offer one themselves.”
Another priest might have taken offence. Father Berin smiled. “The gods will show what the gods will show. If you feel the need to make a sign, that is their will. If you feel no need and curse them to the stars, that is also their will.”
“My will is my own,” Kessligh replied, irritated.
“If you say so,” said Father Berin, still smiling. “Yuan Kessligh, do not fear the flock at your door. Neither insult them, nor patronise them as you now patronise me…” and he paused for an impish smile. Kessligh looked unimpressed. “And nor should you think them stupid or unwise. They follow their path as you follow yours. Is it not a serrin saying that two paths, separated by half the world, may still arrive at the same destination?”
“No,” said Kessligh. “If two paths continue for far enough, they will inevitably arrive at the same destination. The world is round, Father Berin.”
Father Berin blinked at him. “Round?” And shook his head briefly in bafflement. “A figure of speech, no doubt. Serrin are so clever with their wordplay, no?”
“If you say so,” said Kessligh, with a faint smile.
“I'm sorry about Kessligh,” Sasha told Father Berin as she helped him down the narrow stairs. “He's not always subtle.”
“He is a man who says what he means, and does what he says,” Berin replied. “The gods admire such a man, whether he follows them or not.”
Downstairs was filled with Velo relatives and neighbours, seated about the dining table or standing, while Mariesa and her daughter Frasesca served them with grapes, cheese and bread. Sasha knew grapes and cheese did not come cheaply to the Velos. But most of the relatives seemed unconcerned, talking loudly amongst themselves, mostly about the crowd outside. It occurred to Sasha that not everyone would view the coming of Verenthane's most holy artefact as a curse.
All rose as Father Berin entered and he blessed the household, and in particular the agitated Mariesa. The Velo boys, Valenti and Rasconi, were probably out preparing the boat for the afternoon trip. The boat stuck in Sasha's mind. A memory of Yulia seated by the mast on that last trip to the Cliff of the Dead, the sun across her face.
On an impulse Sasha took Father Berin's arm just as he was about to open the door. “Father,” she said quietly, “can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course, Sasha,” the priest replied in surprise. And added, as it occurred to him, “Would you like to speak in private?” Sasha nodded. Father Berin excused them both and walked to the rear door beneath the stairs. Some odd looks followed them, but animated conversation continued as before.
The rear door led to a dark little courtyard between neighbouring buildings. No one else moved in the lanes-Kessligh had posted Nasi-Keth guards at the ends, locals who knew other locals by name.
Father Berin looked at Sasha expectantly as she pulled the door closed behind her. Sasha took a deep breath. “I'm…I'm not very good at this,” she admitted. “I haven't seen a priest in…well, not since I was little.”
Father Berin nodded slowly. “But…you think of yourself as Goeren-yai. Do you not? I mean, that is what I'd heard and everyone…”
Sasha rolled her eyes. Everytime she had to make that a formal declaration, to a man of authority like Father Berin, it still felt like a risk. Or a dangerous blasphemy. “Yes, it's true,” she said shortly.
Father Berin folded his hands before him. “Then why do you need a priest?”
Sasha blinked at him. “Oh no, wait, wait…” she held up both hands. “I don't need a priest.” Father Berin just looked at her, mild and curious. “I mean, I do…” she stopped, took another breath and looked away down a lane, hands on hips. “Yulia Delin. She died.”
“I heard,” said the priest. “I knew her and her family only a little. I'm very sorry.”
“I killed her.”
Berin just looked at her. Waiting for her to amend the statement. Clearly he didn't believe her. Past the lump in her throat, she felt a surge of affection for the plump, limping priest. “She shouldn't have been there. I asked her specifically. I knew she lacked confidence. I knew she wasn't all that good, honestly. But I needed a partner to cover my meeting, and she was all that was available. She thought highly of me. I knew she'd agree, if I pushed. She shouldn't have been there, and now she's dead, and it's my fault.”
Father Berin sighed, and leaned on his cane. “I'm not certain I understand what you need a priest for.”
“I said I don't need a priest,” Sasha retorted.
Berin gave a small, helpless smile. “Then why am I here? Why not talk to someone else?”
“Yulia Delin is dead, Father!” Sasha snapped. “One of your flock, and this pagan holds herself responsible. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Don't you…I don't know…don't you have something to say about that?”
“Sasha,” Father Berin said gently, “what do you want? I mean truly. You feel guilty, and that is good. You should feel guilty.” Sasha swallowed hard. “Not because you are to blame, but because it shows you have a good soul. Do you wish me to absolve you? I cannot do that-we each must live with our sins, Sasha. And besides, you declare you are Goeren-yai…that makes you answerable to your spirits, not to my gods. Of what use to you is absolution from me?”