The Numen's temple is, usually, the most gaudy and big building of a city, barring the capital.
Every temple was unique, but they all sheared two fundamental characteristics: a big, square, paned window depicting the triumph of the Numens on the horrors of the Night, in all their glory, flanked by two enormous columns with painted carvings narrating the stories of the saints and heroes of the faith, and a series of nooks, each containing a statue of one of the ten Numens, with their respective hue.
The first and the tenth were the brightest, in their gold and silver shine.
Today, this colorful temple had two fierce competitors.
“Are you sure this is going to work?”
Liliane looked at his husband. He wore a flat gray cap, his face was somewhat paler, and his gray eyes were now a deep green. His hair was tucked underneath the cap, and what could be seen was a dirty blonde color. He wore a bright orange shirt, coupled with tight red pants.
“It did. So, so many times it did. I'm positive this is going to work, Liliane.”
“Well, what if it doesn't? And where's this city you keep talking about?”
“We're already excommunicated, what are they going to do? Get us another Numenuptial and excommunicate us again? Put us in a galley for public ridicule? Get us to work as temple staff until osteoporosis does us in?”
“I'm still not convinced.”
“It worked with the Knights of the evening, it will work with an old cleric. It's one of my best tricks.”
“I feel really self conscious wearing this… Disguise.”
The old man looked at his scowling wife, who looked really uncomfortable inside the wide, yellow dress which covered her neck to ankles, coupled with a flowery handkerchief on her head and a pair of big, thick glasses.
“Oh, come on, I've seen you wearing worse stuff and still look extremely pretty.”
“Sure but that was back home, not in public! I have a reputation to uphold.”
“And since these are disguising us, you'll keep your reputation. Now, once again. Who are we?”
Liliane hesitated for a second, then spoke in a low voice.
“We are Mr and Mrs Goodcat, from… Ugh… Horsington, and we are doing a tour?”
“A pilgrimage”, Lazar gently corrected, “yes, to all the Numen's temples of the region, to thank them for saving our son, Lucky.”
“And we would love nothing more than to pray in the temple and, if possible, take a look at the tomes in the library because we heard so many good things about it in the last one we visited.”
“Even knowing only the clerics and those with a special dispensation from a noble can enter them?”
“We just need to ask, it does not matter what his answer will be.”
The old woman looked pensive,and kept shifting her weight from one leg to the other.
“I just hope old Willgamber will have forgotten our faces, even if we have makeup on.”
“It's been years, Liliane, do you really think he would still be hung up on… That?”
— — —
Edramund Willgamber had been the only priest at the Numen's temple for more than thirty moons. Since his mentor passed away, after the… accident, he was led alone in the only temple of this little village. He relished in being the spiritual guide of the place, the one so many looked toward with reverence. The best of the chosen ones.
He was cleaning the holy relics for the upcoming Numenuptials, where he, hopefully, would not have to ordain a new colleague, and he would bring all of the two ten years old inside the flock of the Numen’s loved ones, as probationary husbands and wives.
Stolen novel; please report.
He regarded the sacred chalice looking longingly at its glorious, unknowable inscriptions, and basked in its amber tinted hue.
This chalice was pretty new compared to the other relics, but how could it be different? As that couple of miscreants, no, nightspawns had spoiled and broken the last one? He still had the image of their faces, laughing and dancing in the temple, the shards of glass everywhere, burned into his retinas…
No. He had to stop thinking about that. He never even saw them again in the temple, or at the market, or heard about them from the gossip of the supplicants. “Happy thoughts”, he mumbled, “happy thoughts”.
All of a sudden, three knocks could be heard from the door of the temple. It was indeed quite strange, since there would be no celebration during the day, and the time for the collective prayers had ended at least one hour ago.
He went, unhurried, to open the door, and the light of the Small sun blinded him for a second.
He was greeted by a husky voice with a thick eastern accent.
“Hello revered cleric, we're Mrs and Mr Goodcat from Horsington, and we would really like - “
“We are on a pilgrimage”
“Yes, we are on a pilgrimage and we would be so, so grateful if it would be possible -”
“We know it's not time for the communal prayers”.
“Yes dear, it's not, but we wanted to ask if it would be possible to pray now, since we will have to get back on the road after midday, but heard so much good about this temple, especially its well curated library.”
“In short - forgive my husband, he is a bit long winded - we'd like, if possible, to pray and consult the library. We are interested in Numenology and would hate to lose such a precious opportunity to expand our knowledge.”
“We'd obviously make a donation for your goodwill, revered cleric.”
The two shook the hand of the stunned Willgamber, and entered the temple without waiting for an answer, splitting up and kneeling on two benches on the left and right side of the temple.
The old cleric tried to turn around, or say something to the oddly familiar couple, when a thunderous boom could be heard from outside. A flash of light made the day even more bright than usual, and from the light, he saw a figure emerge. A face he dearly wished he could forget,the scoundrel that almost ruined his reputation and brought chaos and strife everywhere he went. And he was half naked, his hair fluttering seducingly in the air, stuck in a suggestive pose, a pair of golden shorts with pictures of… Were they pictures of the Numens? Such a blasphemy! This could not be allowed to pass!
He ran out of the temple, his face morphing into a mask of rage, holy chants beginning to resound in the air.
“Lazar! You, vile nightspawn! Wasn't desecrating the temple enough for you! Did you really need to defile the sacred images of the Numens with your antics? I'll smite you where you stand with the power bestowed to me by our divine consorts!”
The scantily dressed man flexed, showing his wiry body, without uttering a word. His perfectly sculpted physique made him appear similar to one of the statues held in the temple. His perfect proportions were a sight to behold, and his poses were made exactly to make them shine brighter.
All of this did nothing more than make the cleric grow even more furious, if possible.
“Oh Cjiren above you who judges the wicked" he started chanting in a hurried voice “lend me your fire to cleanse evil from the world!”
A column of fire engulfed Lazar's figure. It burned, the surroundings scalded by the heat of such a powerful devotion. A chunk of hair fell from the head of Willgamber. He took a deep breath, regarding the place where that stain on his life used to be: all was well now. He wouldn't tarnish the floors of the temple anymore.
He fell on his knees.
“Thank you Numen's. Thank you for delivering him to me, so that I could remedy my errors.”
He was weeping, full of joy and relief, not doubting for a second that his actions were justified, and sanctioned by the gods above.
He got up, wiping his face with the sleeve of his green-red tunic, and turned back to check on the couple he left alone. The poor old folks may be seriously scared by all the chaos! And they only wanted to pray and read!
He entered the temple, finding the couple still where he left them. The man on the right, the woman on the left. They were both muttering, almost whispering their prayers. The woman, especially, seemed to be in deep focus, almost in a trance, her mouth repeating the same movements over and over. Must be a pretty lengthy prayer.
He went near the man, rousing him from his chanting.
“Good sir, I am deeply sorry for the commotion. It won't happen again. Ever again. Thank you so much for visiting our beloved temple, but I must tell you that the library isn't accessible for the uninitiated. We have, however, a smaller one, my private collection of chants and hymns, that I would be delighted to share with you two.”
Mr Goodcat lifted his head for a moment.
“Thank you all the same, dear minister. I just ask you not to disturb my wife while she prays. She has special needs about her prayer, and they can get really… deep and personal.” he said, and lowering his head he started muttering again.
“Do not worry, Mr Goodcat. If you need me for the library, just come in the room to the left of the altar. You'll find me there.”
The cleric, slowly, turned around and went back into his office, closing the door behind himself.
Sitting on the bench, Lazar breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness he didn’t talk with Liliane first” he thought, looking at the flickering image of his wife, growing more concrete as he kept on casting his spell.