“I know you think that, but if you can’t prove her existence to the government, we have to classify her as fictitious.” Justin’s tone wasn’t unkind, but he spoke in a way that told Mae he’d had to explain this point many, many times. He waved a dismissive hand at his reader. “Now, I’ve got all the official jargon here, but I’d love to hear about your group in your own words. What you believe. How you operate.”
He’d put on that friendly air again, and Claude lit up at the chance to explain his beliefs. “We worship the Goddess of Nine Faces in her scholarly guise. She gives us understanding and insight into the world, allowing us to pursue all sorts of knowledge.”
“And wisdom,” added Justin.
Claude gave him a gentle smile, and now it was his turn to explain one of his well-worn fields of expertise. “Knowledge is not the same as wisdom, as I’m sure you can understand. A scholar who is always learning and striving to excel in their field possesses knowledge. A ninety-year-old-man who has lived a fulfilling life possesses wisdom. Wisdom is pursued by those who worship our goddess as the Lady of Keys. Despite our different paths, we do have much in common with them, however, and we’ve been trying to forge connections between our groups. There’s a Lady of Keys congregation a hundred kilometers from here that we’ve begun to be in contact with.”
“Ah,” said Justin, smiling and nodding along in understanding. “Now I see.”
There was no way a servitor wouldn’t know every established religion inside and out, especially one as widespread as the Nine-Faced Goddess. Justin most certainly understood the difference between the Lady of the Book and the Lady of Keys. He was still the perfect picture of pleasantness and amiability, but as Mae watched, she could see a cunningness in his dark eyes as Claude spoke. Justin was taking in every intonation, every gesture, and every turn of phrase. Coaxing Claude to talk about the goddess he loved simply allowed Justin to gather more data. It was his technique in action: Find out what means the most to someone and exploit it. Like, for example, the blue mood of a woman visiting Panama.
When prompted, the priest was equally happy to explain how they worshipped. “Many of our meetings simply involve being together and reading whatever we like. Afterward, we share our knowledge and try to learn more from each other through enlightened discussions. Our main weekly service usually focuses on a book the entire group is reading. I write my sermons based on lessons learned from the reading, but of course, all opinions are welcomed, and we urge respectful analysis. Worship of the Lady herself is present too. We sing songs and prayers to her, bedeck her with flowers, and give our blessings to scholars seeking her aid. We read stories and myths of her many guises, as well as those of the other gods. There’s enlightenment in learning about the truth of others.”
Justin had his reader in hand again and proceeded to go over operating, financial, and tax paperwork with Claude. Mae couldn’t see the screen but followed along with it as best she could. It gave her a new appreciation for the many facets of a servitor’s job: scholar, psychologist, detective, accountant. She found herself drawn in by the intensity in his already captivating features. It was a single-minded focus she understood.
“I don’t even have to study these records to see how well you’re doing,” said Justin. He paused to look around and admire the room before returning to his reader. “Your congregation’s at…one hundred and fifty?”
Claude’s head bobbed up and down. He was clearly delighted at how well this was going. “Yes, yes. It’s quite wonderful. We were only around seventy-five at our last licensing.”
The speed at which Justin looked up was Mae’s only indication that he was shocked. “You’ve doubled in a year?” He turned back to the reader and scanned a list. “There it is. You certainly have.”
They talked about ten minutes more, and at last, Justin stood up and shook Claude’s hand again. “Well, it’s been very nice speaking with you.”
“Likewise,” said Claude. The priest was beaming. “I’m so pleased you were able to see all the wonderful things we do here.”
“Me too,” said Justin. “And I’m sorry I can’t renew your license.”
Claude froze mid-handshake. “I…I beg your pardon?”
Justin shook his head in sympathy but amazingly still managed to have that upbeat look on his face. “I’m not renewing your license. You’ll have to suspend all operations immediately.”
Claude’s mouth hung open, and he said nothing for almost thirty seconds. “But…but we aren’t dangerous! We aren’t violating any of the country’s religious dictates.”
“You’re violating our tax dictates. That statue may have been a gift, but it’s an expensive one and still has to be reported as an asset and filed under your income. As income, it would be subject to taxes—which you haven’t paid.”
“We were never told of anything like that!”
“It’s the law, Mr. Diaz, which you’re responsible for knowing. Ignorance is not an excuse.”