Esofi hurried forward, pausing only to curtsy briefly, before beginning to speak animatedly to the holy women. Adale glanced over at Daphene. Despite being dressed and upright, she still seemed to be asleep. Mireille was bright and awake, but her eyes had a sort of glazed look to them as well.
She’d forgotten how uncomfortable she always felt in temples. Even before Albion’s death, she’d never quite felt as though she belonged in them. Now, it felt like the entire temple had been constructed specifically to mock her.
Glancing around, Adale felt that familiar old resentment rising up in her chest. Foolish. It was all foolish. If the gods were still watching, if they hadn’t wandered off to do whatever the gods did before they’d created mankind, they were probably laughing at the antics of their children.
But… Adale hesitated. It had not been so when she’d spoken to Esofi about the Temple of Adranus. She had meant what she said, that she believed the gods wanted mankind to think and understand. Or at least, she’d meant it at the time. When she was next to Esofi, she could believe that maybe the gods were something other than malicious and mocking.
But when she was standing in a temple, with its cold stone walls and blatantly materialistic displays, it was hard to believe that she had ever felt anything other than disdain.
The archpriestess was now indicating something off in another direction, probably telling Esofi about the size of the temple’s lands. Adale knew she should be listening, but it was hard enough to keep her breathing from coming in jagged, heavy spurts without having to think about Esofi’s hypothetical university.
The University of Esofi. Adale gave a short, awkward sound that was less of a laugh and more of a sharp exhale. Fortunately, Esofi and the priestesses did not seem to notice.
Adale had the sudden need to move, to run. She began to walk the length of the courtyard, leaving the two waiting ladies to stare after her in confusion. Carved into the courtyard’s inner walls were scenes of forests under moonlight, complete with wolves and deer and rabbits. There was something odd in the marble clouds, too. Adale paused to give it a hard stare and realized that it was a dragon.
Adale found it strange that such a violent and destructive creature would be depicted in any temple. Perhaps Esofi would have an explanation, if Adale asked.
The priestesses were leading Esofi in the direction of the inner temple, where services would be held, and Adale hurried after them. The archpriestess was saying something about the size of their congregations, and Esofi was nodding with rapt interest.
Inside the temple was not unlike any other temple, dimly lit and silent and a little bit musty. Adale had been inside this temple many times before for Talcia’s holy days, and it looked more or less unchanged. Perhaps the priestesses had rearranged some statues or furniture out of boredom, or perhaps Adale’s memory was simply failing her.
“Our temple seats approximately one thousand,” the archpriestess was saying. “Though we only fill that many spots on the holy days, and then of course, we are terribly overcrowded. Do you attend the lunar services?”
“Always,” said Esofi lightly. Lunar services were not quite holy days, but they weren’t quite ordinary either. Unlike Iolar’s sunrise and sunset services, which were held once a week, the lunar service took place only once a month on the night of the full moon. Adale had not attended one since childhood.
“Then perhaps our numbers will increase,” said the archpriestess. Adale had a feeling she was right. Once people found out that the princess was a regular visitor to the temple, they would flood in simply to be seen in the same location.
“How many of Talcia’s temples are there in Birsgen?” asked Esofi.
“Four, including this one,” the archpriestess said.
“A small number, for such a large city,” murmured Esofi. “And you take in students for the study of magic?”
“When they come to us.” The archpriestess gave a shrug. “We’ve had none this year, and most of the ones we’ve had in the past turn out to have Adranus’s gifts instead. Even the girls. It is a pity, but we’ve come to accept it.”
Esofi went quiet, apparently deep in thought.
“It will have to do for now,” she said at last. “I am confident that things will change soon enough, though. If the building of the new university gets her attention…”
“It will still be a decade before any new mages are old enough to come to us for training.” The archpriestess’s eyes were hard, unimpressed. “Maybe longer.”
“Better a decade than never,” Esofi replied calmly. “And, once news of the university spreads, perhaps we will find some of our magically inclined citizens reconsidering their neglect of the gift.”
The archpriestess said nothing, and Adale thought she understood how the old woman felt. After what had to be decades of silence and inattention, mustering up even the smallest spark of hope probably felt like a waste of effort, doomed to end in nothing more than disappointment.
“Some of the mages I’ve brought with me from Rhodia are trained as teachers,” Esofi continued. “They are prepared to serve under your supervision and educate our new students. I have already approved their curriculum, but perhaps you would like to review it as well.”
The archpriestess gave a small nod but said nothing more. Esofi made a quiet humming noise to herself and began to move quietly through the temple, exploring. Adale noticed that even though the archpriestess seemed unmoved, the other priestesses were whispering eagerly to each other.
Fortunately, the visit did not drag on for as long as Adale had feared it might. Soon enough, they were back in the courtyard and descending the steps to the street. Esofi was quieter than Adale would have expected—she’d thought Esofi would be chattering animatedly about all her plans and hopes for the future, but this was not the case.
“In Rhodia,” she said at last, “the ceiling of the Temple of Talcia is made of glass. They uncover it for the lunar services, and it’s indescribably lovely. I think I would like to do something similar here.”
“Oh,” said Adale, but she supposed it was still better than burning it to the ground.
When they arrived back at the castle, it was past lunchtime, but Adale told Esofi not to worry about that and asked her to meet her in the courtyard at the same place they’d taken tea with Queen Saski. Esofi agreed, and Adale set off to the kitchens to see what leftovers she could find for them.
When Adale went out to the gardens, she saw that Esofi and Mireille were sitting at the table, as planned. But, to her horror, Svana and Brandt were there as well, sitting in chairs on either side of the princess. Svana was holding flowers, and Brandt had a small silk box.
Adale cleared her throat and set the “borrowed” dishes down on the table. Esofi smiled brightly at her.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. “I’ve finally met your cousins!”
“I see,” said Adale unhappily. “Brandt, what do you have there?”
“Just a simple gift to welcome Princess Esofi to our nation,” he said, smiling wide enough to show teeth. “We were so disappointed when we learned she had already gone out for the day.”
“I imagine you were,” said Adale. “Well, as we missed the noontime meal, I—”
“Oh, do not banish us so quickly, cousin.” Svana was now threading flowers from the bouquet into Esofi’s hair. To Adale’s horror, Esofi did not appear to be irritated by it, but was smiling as brightly as ever. “We’ve not been to court in so long. Tell us how you’ve been occupying yourself.”
Adale grabbed a tiny sandwich off the dish and gestured to some servants, signaling them to bring drinks.
“There is little to tell,” she began. “I—”
“As we suspected,” sighed Brandt.
“Princess Esofi,” said Svana, apparently forgetting that she’d only a moment ago asked Adale a question. “I have heard that you play the violin.”
Adale was about to object—she had never heard such a thing, and she was the one who actually lived in the castle!—but Esofi nodded vigorously around her mouthful of food.