Alfric took a moment to make the signs of the six gods, a quick motion for each, honoring them. In Dondrian, each of the gods had their own temple, one devoted wholly to each particular god, with a whole host of clerics and services that the devout attended weekly. His parents had done what many did, rotating temples each week, which allowed a deeper, fuller understanding of each god and their existence, for good and ill. He had always favored Xuphin, God of Infinity, whose doctrine seemed most sensible, but he had a healthy respect for all six gods.
Mizuki brushed past him as he was looking at the statues. “Are you taking point, or am I?” she asked.
“I will,” said Alfric. “First, can I ask why this temple is so big?”
“What do you mean?” asked Mizuki. “How big should it be?”
“It was my understanding that for a town the size of Pucklechurch, there should be shrines instead, with maybe a small room of worship for those with a cleric,” said Alfric. He was looking around. “Much of this space isn’t used.” With the seating brought down, the place could easily have sat five hundred.
“I’ve never really thought about it,” said Mizuki, shrugging. “Well, come on, chop chop.”
Alfric moved toward the statue of Garos, done here in his animal form, a mighty stag whose antlers had fractal prongs. The room behind the statue could be reached by going around it to the left or right, and when they were close enough, Alfric could see that the room was symmetrically arranged, not just with the chairs, table, and benches aligned with each other, but so that most of the floor was mirrored in the ceiling, both of them tile, and the trim on the walls was the same along the top and bottom. The plants within the foyer were all sculpted, their branches forking at regular intervals, styled so that their left and right halves were identical.
Three people stood within, one in simple clothes and the other two in
clerical chasubles. The clerics were decidedly
“Garos’ blessin’. Might I help you?” she asked. There was a brightness to her eyes and a lilt to her voice, which Alfric found refreshing, maybe because Mizuki and Verity had been so slow to rise, and Isra had been, as the shopkeeper had warned, comparatively cold.
“Have you ever been in a dungeon?” he asked.
Hannah’s eyes widened slightly. “Ay,” she replied. “I mean no, I haven’t, not properly, but I’d like ta—are you askin’, ay?” Her accent was pronounced.
“I am,” said Alfric. “It’s a one-fifth share—”
But Hannah had already rushed away and interrupted the foyer conversation for a quick chat with the other cleric, and as soon as that was done, with a glance back at Alfric, she went through a door in the back wall, disappearing from sight for just a moment before returning with a packed bag. She’d thrown off her chasuble, revealing very functional trousers and a buttoned-down shirt that must have been beneath it. She rolled up the sleeves as she hustled back over to Alfric. “Ready to go,” she said, smiling. “You were sayin’ a fifth share?”
“I—yes,” said Alfric. “Don’t you need to make arrangements?”
“Arrangements made,” replied Hannah, waving a dismissive hand toward the other cleric. “When do we go, ay?” She had a thick accent with rounded vowels, which was all that marked her as not being a native of Pucklechurch. Alfric suspected that she hailed from far south.
“Er,” said Alfric. “Not earlier than sixth bell.”
“Can I help you prepare?” she asked. “And who are we with, ay? You, me, and who else?” She looked over at Mizuki, who was standing off to one side. “Her?” she asked, frowning slightly.
“Hi, Hannah,” said Mizuki.
“Had to run her out of the temple a few weeks back, she was doin’ her magic,” said Hannah with a scowl.
“There was
“Your magic was the only thing dangerous,” said Hannah. “But still, if that’s who it’s to be, no arguments from me. You said the sixth bell?” She looked Alfric up and down. “And is that what you’ll be wearin’?”
“Sorry,” said Alfric, “it
