"I want to hear you say it, Tarrin. Do you forgive me?"
"Of course I forgive you," he told her emphatically. "You're my Goddess. I know you love me. You wouldn't do anything like that to me unless you really had no other choice."
He could palpably sense the surge of power that flowed into that statue, flowed through it. She had once told him, long ago, that even Elder gods gained power from the worship of mortals, though Elder gods didn't depend on the worship of mortals for their existence the way the Younger gods did.
"If you can forgive me, then you must forgive the Keeper," she told him gently. "She was acting on my orders. The Council was only doing my bidding. It's wrong for you to blame them for things they had no choice but to do."
"My reasons for not forgiving them go beyond just what they did, Mother," he growled.
"No, kitten," she told him gently. "Everything they did was because of what I told them. You must find it in your heart to forgive them. They have suffered just as you have."
He squirmed a bit under that gaze. To forgive his Goddess was one thing, but to forgive the Keeper and the Council went against his instincts. "I'll, I'll think about it," he hedged.
"For now, that's enough," she smiled. "The others are in the maze," she announced, looking over his shoulder. "It's time for me to go back to being a decoration, kitten. The others may understand what I am, but I think they'll be too overwhelmed to do what they need to do if they see my icon moving. Dar especially may have a problem with it," she said with a slightly mishievious smile.
Tarrin blushed furiously. "I really hope that didn't offend you," he said immediately. "You weren't, uh, you weren't really here when I did that, were you?"
"I'm always here, kitten," she grinned. "But I'm even harder to embarass than you are, so be assured that I didn't take offense. I knew that you didn't know what I was at the time. You were pawing a statue, after all." She stood up, still keeping hold of his paws. "Actually, it impressed me. I needed a champion with courage and strength, but I also needed one that was willing to go beyond the bounds of normal thinking. What you did proved to me that you had both of those qualities."
He still felt mortified, not willing to look her in the eye. That made the statue laugh, that same cascade of silvery bells. "Dar's problem with it is because he had something of a crush on me, kitten," she confided to him. "He was absolutely struck by the appearance of my icon. But he's gotten over it. A certain mid-grade Initiate has caught his fancy now," she said with a wink.
"I hope it's Tiella. She has a crush on him."
"Of course it is," the statue affirmed. "I've been urging them to notice each other for a while now. Tiella was very receptive to it, but Dar was a bit harder to reach. He still fears that his parents are going to show up with a pre-arranged bride for him," she chuckled.
"Why?" he asked curiously.
"Why not?" she asked winsomely. "I may be a god, but first and foremost, I'm a woman, my kitten. Women like to see their children find good husbands and wives. Dar and Tiella will be very happy together. They are a match. When I see that two of my children will be a match, I bring them together. Their happiness is my happiness."
"That, and their children will also be Sorcerers," he realized.
"That may be true, but I gain much more from the happiness of my children than by the children they bear." She looked over his head. "Allia ever was swift," she chuckled. "It's time for me to return, kitten."
"Alright. It was good to actually talk to you, Mother. I mean face to face."
"There is a peculiar form of satsifaction in it, isn't there?" she agreed with a curious expression. "We'll have to talk again like this soon."
He let go of her hands, and she returned to her place on the base, spread her arms out, and resumed the sober expression. And then she moved no more.
Tarrin sighed, looking up into the stone face of his Goddess, and then turned and waded back out of the fountain. It was always good to talk to her, even if it wasn't important. Especially if it wasn't important. It only showed him that she did really love him, if she was willing to give him her time for no real reason other than to talk to him. He stepped out of the fountain and sat down on the lip, looking over to the crystalline dome that covered the tent they'd erected. Inside that tent, somewhere, were the answers they were looking for. All they had to do was find it.
The dome. Of course.
"Uh, Mother," he called.
"I've already taken care of it, kitten," the statue replied audibly. "Just press your paws against it, and you'll be pulled inside. Oh, and don't worry about running out of time. I've taken care of that too."
"What do you mean?" he asked, turning to look at the statue.
You'll see, came the impish mental response, though the statue's expression did get a bit whimsical before resetting into its deceptive mask.
That piqued his curiosity, and little could motivate him more than that. He was just as curious as the cat he resembled. He padded over to the crystalline dome, and then fearlessly put his paws against it, just as he heard rustling in the hedges that told him that the others were entering the courtyard. The crystal seemed to be warm to the touch, and then he felt it part, give way for him, even as he felt it suddenly pull at him like hands grabbing his paws and dragging him inside. The pull was gentle, but it was absolutely irresistable, and he found himself being dragged through the crystal wall of the dome before he realized what was going on. He stumbled a bit on the other side, blinking, and then turned and looked back out. It was a perfect image through the crystal, just as it was a perfect view from the other side. He turned and looked at the tent, then stepped through the flap, ducking down to do so, and stepping inside.
It had been over a year, nearly two, since last he set foot in there, but absolutely nothing had changed. The table was still in the middle of the rather large tent, and against the wall of the tent were chests, four of them, all of them holding books and scrolls and individual sheets of parchment that they had plundered from the forgotten chamber in the Cathedral of Karas. Throw pillows surrounded the table and three chairs, extra seats for visitors. A glass Keritanima had brought in still sat on the table, and he realized that there was no dust on it. No dust anywhere.
That was when he noticed the silence. The absolute, utter, impenetrable silence. The only sound there was was the sound he was making. The sound of him moving, breathing, the beating of his heart. That was it. Someone had been rustling the hedges before he entered the dome, but that sound wasn't there. He went back outside the tent and looked to see who it was, but there was no one out there. He looked to the choked opening, and realized that there was someone there. The furry hand of Keritanima was visible coming through the hedge wall, but he could only see her arm, and it wasn't moving. What was she waiting on? He stood there and waited, and waited, and waited some more, but Keritanima's arm did not move. Not even a finger.
Now he was a little concerned. Keritanima had been stock-still for a good long moment. Something had to be wrong. He put his hands against the crystal of the dome, and again he felt it suddenly pull at him. He was pulled through it quickly, and as soon as he pulled free of it, he heard the rustling of the hedge, the sound of a gust of wind, and Keritanima crashed through the hedge, laughing as she looked back behind her.
Tarrin was startled. Did the dome stop time? He quickly pulled back until his back touched the dome, and he felt it drag him back through. As soon as he was completely clear of it, Keritanima suddenly froze in place, as if she too was a statue.
It did stop time! That was what the Goddess meant when she told him that they didn't have to worry about running out of time!
Not stop, just slow down a great deal, the voice of the Goddess touched him, obviously entertained by his little experiment. For every hour that passes within the dome, a minute passes outside. My father owed me a favor, so he set it up for me.