"I'm sorry,” she muttered. “I didn't mean ... Well, I did, but—"
"I did not bring you here to admire art, Singer,” Kollwin growled, but he was fighting back a smile.
"Oh, but ... Gim? Look at me."
Gim looked up, redder than a bloodfruit in the dim light. He smiled a little...
The likeness was exact! Or would be. He was not quite old enough, but the faces were already the same. Gim seemed taller only because he was wearing boots; otherwise he would be the same height as the god stepping out of the wall.
"An older brother, Kollwin Sculptor? Or did you imagine him as he will be in another couple of years?"
"My son was not the model. I never use models."
She could only stare from the god's inscrutable smile to Gim's scarlet embarrassment and back again.
"Tell her, Father. Please?"
"I carved the blessed likeness long ago,” Kollwin said in his ponderous way. “The night I completed it I thanked the god and went up to the house and was told my wife was in labor."
She dared another glance at Gim, and he was redder yet, but wearing an idiotic grin now.
"Then the god?...” The god had fashioned the boy to the statue!
"The carving is the older,” the sculptor said. “Gim takes after his mother and I was very much in love with her—and still am, of course. That may explain any resemblance you see, but we came here to give thanks, not to discuss art."
Eleal was about to kneel, then saw that Kollwin had more dissertations to intone.
"I think you are old enough to keep a secret, Eleal Singer. I will risk a word of explanation, if you will swear never to carry it outside this holy place."
She swore, anxious to learn the purpose of a covert shrine. This was almost as exciting as escaping down a wall in the middle of the night and much less nightmarish.
He rubbed his chin with a raspy noise. “I am not sure how much I may say, though."
Gim was staying very quiet.
"The Tion Fellowship?” she prompted.
Kollwin's eyes glinted; his swarthy face seemed to darken.
Error? “All I know,” she said hastily, “is that Trong Impresario and his son came, er, went to a meeting two nights ago. A mutual friend said they belonged to some club he called the Tion Fellowship. They did not mention it themselves.” But now she knew where they had come.
The sculptor sniffed grudgingly. “The Tion Mystery is not a club! But, yes, they asked their brethren of the Narsh Lodge for aid. Of course we offered prayer and sacrifice on their behalf, both here and in the Lady's temple. Our pleas seemed to be heard.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking up at the god. “We know what happened, because we had one of our local brothers in the temple anyway."
Doing what, she wondered? But of course special dedication to one god would not reduce anyone's obligations to worship all the others also. The ceremony had been public.
Kollwin smiled—a slow process like sunshine moving on mountains. “We sent along someone who would understand the ancient speech, just to be on the safe side. The priests did not reveal everything the oracle had said, but they did not distort the holy words unduly. The goddess specifically directed that you were to be taken into her clergy. She insisted you be kept locked up and guarded for a fortnight. She said the rest of the troupe must contribute a hundred stars to her temple treasury, either by donation or service, and then should be run out of town as soon as possible.
"So it seemed that the Lady had turned aside her anger and all but one of the troupe was free to leave.” The sculptor cleared his throat harshly. “Frankly, that one seemed of very little importance to us. The youngest, dispensable.... One cracked egg in a dozen is not a disaster. We thought the problem had been solved.
"But Holy Tion did not think so! He looks after those who serve him, as we should have remembered. It so happened—and this is what I ask you not to repeat—that my son had begun his initiation into the Tion Mystery.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “The ceremony includes a period of prayer and fasting, which concludes when Kirb'l next appears. That night the skies were clear and Kirb'l appeared."
"I saw him.” Eleal stole a glance at Gim. He smiled down at her shyly.
"At the conclusion of the ceremony,” his father continued, “the initiate sleeps before the figure of the god. Here, on the floor, Gim was vouchsafed a remarkable dream, indeed a vision. Tell her, lad."
Gim rubbed his upper lip with a knuckle. His blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “I saw myself on a black dragon, riding to the temple.” His voice rose in excitement. “Just as it happened! I knew which window, and exactly what to do with the rope. It all came true! And I knew it wasn't just an ordinary dream! I mean, I've never even touched a dragon before! So I told Father and—"
The older Sculptor chuckled. “He hauled my bedcovers off at dawn! Understand: Gim was not present when the actors came! He had not been told of the oracle, or of Eleal Singer. Yet here he was babbling about rescuing a girl held against her will in the Lady's temple! I knew then that the god had heard our prayers and issued instructions. We inquired and learned that there was a dragon trader in town, so we went to talk with him. And he did have a black dragon in his herd. And he knew you personally."
This was something out of one of Piol Poet's dramas! “And?” Eleal demanded.
Kollwin Sculptor chuckled. “And I think he should be in on the rest of the telling. Your soup must be ready. My wife will skin me. You know enough now to know who to thank."
"It was the god who rescued you, Eleal,” Gim said modestly.
Yes. But why why why?
And which aspect of Tion had answered the prayers? Dropping to her knees, Eleal took a harder look at the image that so much resembled the young man now kneeling beside her. The enigma in the smile, she decided, came from the turn of the head and eyes—lips smiling in one direction, eyes in another. He held Tion's pipes, but a god who would steal a girl away from a goddess's temple by sending a dragon and a boy who had never ridden one before might well be the same god who was causing that boy to grow up as an exact replica of his father's masterpiece—Kirb'l, the Joker.
Kollwin had somehow contrived to put her in the center. It was his shrine, so she waited for him to begin. One of the nice things about the Youth was that he spurned written texts. There were red, green, white, and blue scriptures, but no yellow.
While she was preparing words in her head, Kollwin addressed the god. Even in conversation with mortals he sounded as if he were reading a text; his prayer was a monumental inscription. “Lord of art and youth and beauty, I thank you for the safe return of my son this night, for the trust you have shown in us, and for the chance to be of service. As always, I am grateful for the blessings of the day passed and the opportunities of the day ahead. Amen."
Gim said, “Amen,” so Eleal did also. This intimate sharing of religion was unfamiliar to her, but obviously it was her turn now. She looked up at the god; his eyes smiled back with infinite patience and the same mysterious amusement as before.
"Thank you, Holy Tion, for rescuing me from the most disgusting, degr—"
The sculptor barked, “Careful! You must not blaspheme against the Lady!"
Eleal took a deep breath and began again. “Then I'll just say that I am very grateful for being rescued.... Thank you, Lord.” She paused, the others waited. “And I promise to serve, er, the lord of art and beauty as well as I can.” She thought of the festival, and tried to imagine Uthiam mounting the steps in the great temple to receive a scarlet rose from the hand of the god. “And I ask you to look after my friends, because they have suffered because of me, and, well, I'd like them to do well in your festival. To your honor, of course. Amen."