“O BLESSED FLAME, WE PRAY THAT YOU WILL REMAIN constant in your strength. Fear not that we of the Priory will let your light fail, for as long as our virtue remains unblemished and we are pledged to your everlasting light, your spirit will endure. For wherever your flame lives, so too does the immense power of the Vagaries. In your name and toward that end I deliver this spell of strength.”
Her prayer finished, the Femiculi of the Priory of Virtue remained on her knees with bowed head and closed eyes. Now she would perform the second and final part of the all-important ritual. Slowly she opened her eyes and looked up.
As it had done for aeons, a great flame burned in an enormous marble bowl in the Rotunda of the Priory. Like the woman who knelt before it, the flame was pure, serene, and powerful. It burned without heat, smoke, or sound-just a flame so high that it reached halfway to the occulum, the circular hole in the apex of the chamber’s domed ceiling.
As the firelight burst through the occulum into the dark night, it reassured Ellistiumites moving about the city that their precious flame still lived. Viewing the heavens above the rotunda each evening was the only way for the citizens to be sure, for admittance to the dome was strictly limited to the emperor, the empress, thePon Q’tar, and the twenty Priory virgins.
The magnificent Priory Rotunda sat atop one of seven hills that surrounded Ellistium. A host of krithian centurions, their weapons always at the ready, continuously prowled the Rotunda’s beautifully landscaped grounds.
The Rotunda served three purposes. It housed the eternal flame, provided sanctuary for the women who had dedicated their lives and their chastity to ensure that the flame never died, and housed the ritual known as the auguries. It was believed that the sacred flame empowered the Vagaries. If the flame died, so would the side of the craft worshipped by all Rustannicans. Should the Vagaries die, so too would the nation, for the barbaric Shashidans would surely succeed in crossing the Borderlands and wiping out all that the Rustannicans held dear. ThePon Q’tar had commissioned the construction of the Rotunda long ago, soon after Rustannica had seceded from Shashida. Legend had it that another perpetual flame burning in Shashida empowered the Vigors.
It was also said that during the first tenuous days of the empire, thePon Q’tar clerics stole the Vagaries flame just before announcing Rustannica’s independence. Those brave clerics had also tried to extinguish the Vigors flame at the same moment, but failed, and thus the civil war began. With the coming of Vespasian and his supremely endowed blood, everyone believed that final victory would soon be within their reach.
Before starting the needed spell, the Femiculi took a moment to look around the Rotunda. She had been a member of the Priory since she was twenty years old. That had been twelve years ago, and even now she remained awed by the structure that was her home.
The massive dome was fifty meters wide at its base and more than thirty meters high. The occulum in the dome’s center was ten meters across, and its circumference was ringed with gold. When the flame was at its lowest ebb, stars could be seen sparkling through the occulum. The interior of the dome was made of pure ivory blocks. As the firelight struck the blocks it created shimmering shadows of red, silver, and white.
The huge black altar that supported the bowl and the flame sat in the middle of the floor. A freestanding fluted column of pure gold rose from each of the altar’s four corners, and each column was topped by a jewel-studded capital. The floor surrounding the altar was made of highly polished rose and black quartz checkerboard squares.
A second, smaller altar stood between the Femiculi and the bowl. As she looked at it, she shuddered, trying not to think about its grisly purpose.
Now it was time for Julia Idaeus, the reigning Femiculi of the Priory, to commence the spell that would empower the flame through another moon. Slowly she came to her feet and raised her arms. Then she closed her eyes and summoned the craft.
Some said that the wind she summoned had a life of its own, and that it wandered the world as it chose until being called forth on each new moon. Others insisted that each time it came, it drifted to the Rotunda from a secret sanctuary nestled somewhere among the dark peaks of the enchanted Tolenka Mountains. Only thePon Q’tar knew for certain, yet it remained a part of the legend that they refused to share. Nor did it matter, for no one dared to question the clerics’ wisdom.
Wherever it came from, the wind always served the same purpose: It fanned the embers at the base of the flame, allowing the flame to burn brightly again for another full moon.
As she called the craft, Julia watched the familiar azure glow fill the Rotunda. She heard the haunting wind arrive and swirl down through the occulum. As it neared her, it parted the folds of her white gown and stirred her hair. Soon the gathering tempest howled so loudly that it hurt her ears and its power nearly took her off her feet. Then the wind turned to fan the flame’s embers.
As Julia struggled to control the tempest, her arms shook and her power began to ebb. Soon the embers at the base of the flame glowed brightly again, as if they had been reborn.
The flame strengthened and grew higher. With the last of her powers Julia forced the wind to caress the embers one last time. Then she slumped to the floor. Its job done, the wind whistled hauntingly as it soared back through the occulum and left the Rotunda for parts unknown.
Julia heard footsteps approaching. As she struggled to her knees, several other Priory virgins came to help her up. Agrippina Sertorius, Julia’s most trusted Priory Sister, gave her a worried look. Unlike when they appeared in public, inside the Rotunda the women were allowed to go without their veils. Agrippina was five years Julia’s junior, with brown eyes and short red ringlets.
“It is done?” Agrippina asked.
Julia looked back at the flame to see that it again roared with life, nearly reaching the occulum. She nodded to her friend. Over the next month the embers surrounding the base of the flame would again dim and the flame would fade, forcing Julia once again to perform the sacred rite of the wind. The ritual had been performed thousands upon thousands of times here in this same place, by Priory Femiculi too numerous to name.
Because the Priory virgins were not protected by time enchantments, Julia would one day become too old to perform the ritual. When that day came, Agrippina Sertorius or another Priory virgin like her would be selected to become the reigning Femiculi. According to custom, Julia would be freed from her duties to live her final days as a highborn Rustannican krithian, with a substantial pension to provide for her living expenses and if she chose, she would be free to marry.
“Let us help you back to your quarters,” Agrippina said. “We need our rest-you above all. Vespasian’s meeting is to start in less than eight hours. He will want our counsel.”
Julia nodded. “I know,” she said. As she recalled the day’s occurrences, a pensive look crossed her face. “Vespasian seemed different today,” she said. “Did you notice? I suspect that he has some important issue that he wishes to discuss.” She sighed. “In any event, we will know soon enough.”
Agrippina and three other Priory Sisters escorted Julia to the single doorway that led to their quarters. Julia paused to confirm that the flame roared strongly in the center of the beautifully constructed dome.
Satisfied, she left the Rotunda at last.