It was shortly after dinner when Miriam left the Bouncing Beholder. Her long robe fluttered behind her as she walked down the twisty alleys. She swiftly passed a strolling couple, ignoring their greetings, taking the second street on the right. Striding past a terrace where waiters served steamy dishes to small groups of people she turned left past a small copse of trees. She hurried along for a good hundred yards and realized then she was lost. She jerked her head round to get her bearings. If only she had listened when that greedy innkeeper had given her directions! True, she had been in a hurry to get away from the dirty fellow with his unpleasant leer. "Can I help you, milady?" The cityguard startled her. "The fountain. There must be a marble fountain here because its a hundred paces past the trees and from there its the big street on the..." "Slow down, milady. Where do you want to go?" Miriam almost blushed. She was babbling like a headless chick. "The Temple of Eesyan. I need to get to the Temple." "The Temple is the other way, milady," the guard said, almost apologetic. After a few minutes of explaining she went on her way. Slowing her pace, she gathered her wits. Calm and dignified. The Temple square looked almost the same as the one in Korinth. Even the Temple guards looked familiar. For all she knew they rotated Temple guards between the cities. The guards gave no sign of recognition, just a curt nod when she showed them her holy symbol. She walked the steps up to the main building. Momentarily at a loss, she stood and watched the apprentices and acolytes walk down the hall. An elder priest with a sad face, who had been talking to an acolyte, turned to her and asked: "Can I help you, sister?" Miriam looked up at the bearded priest and his sad, grey eyes. "I'm Miriam, father. I am looking for my Senior." "And who is your Senior, sister?" "Gdansk, Gdansk of Korinth. He..." She struggled. Could she trust this old man? Then she realized, what did it matter? The Temple knew everything, had Eyes everywhere. "He was summoned to a formal hearing, father," she finished softly. The priest nodded in understanding, raised a bony hand and motioned to the nearest apprentice. As the young girl hurriedly approached them, a second apprentice, a freckled boy, came skidding to a halt across the marble floor. Both said at the same time: "Yes, Father Anton?" The priest chuckled at the overeagerness of the youngsters. "Go see if the Master Scribe is still in his chambers?" he asked. "Not you, you rascal," he gently chided the freckled boy. "You saw me point at Lenara. You are lucky Brother Dermentius didn't see you run through the halls. Off you go." He send the apprentices on their way. "I don't know what I did to deserve such adoration," the priest told her. Miriam stared at him. "But you are Anton Reeva..." The priest nodded sadly. When Miriam opened her mouth again he interrupted her: "I am a servant of Eesyan, just as everyone else in this building, sister Miriam. Why they insist on relating my exploits to the apprentices each year is beyond me." Miriam felt small next to the legendary healer. Over sixty years ago, during the Great Plague and the time of the Orc Raids, when the Temple was weak in number, one young priest roamed the battlefields and tirelessly worked among the sick and wounded. Having survived the plague as a child, Anton Reeva was said to have saved more lives and healed more people than anyone else in the history of the Temple. "This way, sister." They strolled down the long hall and Miriam felt the apprentices' eyes on her, watching her with envy for having some reason to walk with Father Anton. She walked along, silently, wanting to tell them they had nothing to be jealous about. "Father Anton!" came a loud bass voice. A hulking man, huffing under the load of five books, came out of a side room towards them. "Brother D'Nomo, was there a formal hearing scheduled today?" Father Anton asked softly. The Master Scribe lowered his voice and said: "There was, Father." He squinted and looked at Miriam. "Are you Miriam of Korinth?" he asked. Miriam nodded hesitantly. "Follow me, please. Thank you, Father, for bringing her here." D'Nomo walked back into his room. Miriam looked at Anton Reeva, non-plussed. He just nodded and said: "Bless you, sister Miriam." She mumbled her thanks and went inside. The big priest put a leather cylinder in her hands and started rummaging through the papers on his desk. Miriam just stood there with the scroll case in her hands. After two minutes she scraped her throat and started: "Excuse me, father, but..." "Yes, yes, just one minute. I'm looking for the teacher's addendum." With a triumphant sound he produced another scroll. He rolled it carefully and gave it to her. "These are the notes with the current curriculum, which you will find in the scroll case. Classes start at eight in the morning." Now she was really confused. "Father, I'm here looking for my Senior." Father D'Nomo gestured with his large hands. "Sister, when you serve in the Temple you /have/ no Senior. Just a Mentor, which is me, by the way." Realization of what was happening trickled down. A shiver ran up her spine. Classes. Curriculum. They had recalled her! "Well, is there anything you want to ask me?" Father D'Nomo prompted her. "To be sure, I am to teach the apprentices tomorrow at eight?" she said slowly. Acolyte's work. They reassigned her for acolyte's work. The priest scratched his nearly bald skull. "Is there a problem with that?" As the cityguards cursed and yelled at her to move, she slowly turned towards Gdansk, who absentmindedly tripped a mercenary with the tip of his polearm. Moving her gaze from the back of the scrawny Half-Orc, climbing out the window, to Gdansk, who was apologizing to the mercenary, Miriam felt confident. It felt right, making a change, however small, in the wretched life of that halfblood. "Are you alright, Sister?" It still felt right. And standing in the richly decorated, almost pompous chamber of the Master Scribe, did not. The only thing she was ready admit doing wrong was praying more to Shilohin lately than Eesyan. Father D'Nomo interrupted her train of thought. "Sister, sometimes a reassignment is not what one expected. Nevertheless one should endeavour..." Something snapped inside her. She dropped the scroll case on the floor. "I will be reassigned only when my Senior tells me to!" she yelled at him. "As I'm sure he will once I find him!!" The Master Scribe's eyes widened. "You haven't spoken to him yet?" he asked, his voice rising in alarm. Miriam felt like stomping her foot on the floor, but crossed her arms instead and said vehemently: "No, I haven't!!" The Master Scribe grasped his head with both hands and groaned. A soft cough turned their heads towards the door. Anton Reeva strolled in, hands clasped behind his back, and spoke almost casually: "Reason begets Calm and Calm begets Dignity." Turning to Miriam he added: "Sister, you raised your voice against an elder. That is inexcusable under any circumstance. You will take a vow of silence for a full moon." The sad expression of his eyes had not changed, but the sternness in his voice was unmistakable. "I accept the vow of silence for a full moon," Miriam whispered, her eyes downcast. "I assume you have a room in an inn somewhere," Anton Reeva continued. "Go back there and return here tomorrow before midday. Bring your Senior along when you find him." She nodded and kneeled before him. He lightly tapped first her right, then her left shoulder. "Go now." Trying to look calm and collected with legs turned to jelly she walked out the Master Scribe's chamber. The main room of the Bouncing Beholder was smoky and noisy. Patrons were singing along a rendition of 'the Lobster and the Octopus'. A young bard with a goatee set the rhythm by stomping on the floor with his foot and strumming a lute. Jarvis himself was clapping and laughing. She thanked Koriel that he didn't notice her coming in. Slowly she made her way towards the stairs, patiently waiting for a waitress to gather empty mugs from the table and clearing the way across the packed room. She wished her eyes were watering from Taplow Blue smoke rings instead of the anguish she felt inside. With each stair the sounds of the main room grew softer, separating her from the rest of the world. Closing the door of her room behind her, she sighed. Slowly and deliberately she folded her robe and placed it next to her other belongings in the corner. Then she sat on the bed and let her thoughts roam free. So many moments. That first night in Peer Lesk's Tavern in Korinth, the meeting of all the misfits, the leftovers, the vows to form an adventuring party just to spite the veterans who'd pointed out that they weren't good enough. The Summer Solstice Parade in Hukarn which Milan had ruined by throwing a pie into the Mayor's face - not that the Mayor was angry, but the pie he threw back had hit Revelc instead; after that the mage had used his magic to make all nobles dance for half an hour. The fight with the Death Knight Tarhark Porphyriel and his minions, where the others stood in a circle around Dance and her, keeping the monsters at bay long enough for them to finish casting. The long nights around the campfire when they were on the road for weeks on end. The healing of the sick and wounded, helping out whenever possible, mostly only rewarded by gratitude. The laughs and jokes they had shared, right up until this morning. That was all over now. A burst of laughter from downstairs caused a stab of pain in her chest. For her mind's eye she floated away on a dark lake, while her friends and Dance stood on shore, watching in silence. The half-orc with a chunk of bread in her hand and the couple from Par Zedek stood at a distance, their faces obscured. Tomorrow she would leave it all behind and she wouldn't even be able to tell her friends why. Or tell Dance that... Abruptly she knelt before the bed, grasped her ankh and prayed. I stand before You, Eesyan the Wise... Father of Reason, I need Your help. If Your law is for the common good, why do I feel this emptiness? Should we not strive to include everyone in the Cycle of Order? Even those who have strayed but inches from the Road? If craving begets Chaos then shouldn't we end suffering? Help me understand why what I have done wrong feels so right. Help me to find reason in all of this. And if I serve You better without, help me banish the love from this mortal heart. Help me understand this pain. The emptiness remained. Why didn't anyone tell me about this, she thought bitterly. You knew, a voice inside her replied. You knew this could happen the day you became an Apprentice. Unbidden, the thought sprang to life that this might be a test for her. She immediately dismissed the thought. Eesyan was not this cruel. And if He was, Shilohin would hardly put Her spells on her just to test her faith. Wouldn't She? She sighed. Come on now, she scolded herself. You're not the first Junior ever to be recalled. And it was not as if the Temple recalled her just to spite her. Was it? Stop whining, she scolded herself. Think about Dance for a second. He will need your support when he gets back from the hearing. The hearing! Her pulse quickened when the awful truth dawned upon her. Her recall was Dance's punishment. It hadn't been to spite her, but /him/. Tears started rolling down her face. This was her fault, and hers alone. Just because she had wanted to flaunt her rank to a few stupid cityguards they were now going to be separated. Gods, what have I done, she thought. How can I make this right? Her hands still holding on to the ankh, as if she could squeeze comfort from the holy symbol, she cried herself to sleep. She dreamt of going back to the Temple, only the streets seemed to run into different directions and people kept trying to keep her from reaching her destination. First, a freckled apprentice offered her a banana from a fruit basket. She just smiled and shook her head. Turning the corner, she bumped into the cityguard who had given her directions. Running his fingers over the blade of his halberd, he whispered: "Where do you want to go, milady?" Stumbling over her own feet, she nearly crashed into a copse of trees, growing inside the West Gate. Three cityguards were discussing how to get rid of the obstacles as she ran her hand down the bark of the tree. A potatoe rolled against her right ankle and as she turned round, she saw Dlanor overturning a fruit cart, burying her in fruit and vegetables, only they turned into tiny pebbles as soon as they hit her. Dlanor held a large pebble up against the light and said: "Look at this pebble... high quality!" Then he skipped merrily down the road, laughing hysterically. A hand pulled her out of the pebbles; it was Gdansk. He comforted her and held her close. As their faces moved together his features suddenly changed into Jarvis's. Screaming in fright she pulled herself from his embrace and ran away. Only a few steps later, she was tripped by a polearm and she slided across the marble hall. Bewildered, she looked up and saw Anton Reeva looking down at her, waggling a bony finger. "No running in the halls, sister," he chided her. Sighing, she stood up and caught the polished skull of a half-orc, thrown to her Father D'Nomo. She opened her mouth to protest but no sound came out. "We took your voice," Father D'Nomo said gravelly. "There it goes." A small, headless chick came running down the hall, trying to evade a group of apprentices who tried to stomp on it. The madness continued. She saw herself being reunited with Gdansk. They were both old and grey; Anton Reeva like a walking skeleton with a two-handed sword, a crowd cheering at her; Milan presenting a rat from his belt-pouch and bursting into tears because it was dead. "Sister?" She groaned. Another priest wanting to teach her a lesson. "Miriam?" She blinked her eyes. From the small window the first sunrays were creeping on the floor. It was morning. Gdansk was sitting on her bed. He looked haggard. "Sis? I have to tell you something," he said softly. Miriam sat up. She smelled a faint tinge of ale. Had he been up all night, drinking? "I ah... I went to the hearing... and..." She raised her hand to stop him and nodded. Tears blurred her vision. "What?" he asked. She held out her right hand and walked over it with two fingers. Then she formed the symbol for Temple. "Is there something wrong with your voice?" Gdansk asked worriedly. She sighed, gave up and bluntly pulled him to her in a comforting hold. "Miriam, I..." Gdansk stopped as a sudden thought hit him. "Did someone make you take a vow of silence?" he asked her. She nodded. Gdansk gently pulled away from her embrace. He wanted to look her in the eyes when he told her. Her hair tousled and her eyes running, she had never looked lovelier. He strained to keep his voice under control. "I lost my right of assistence, Sis," he told her. I lost you. Miriam raised her hand and signalled: yes, I know. He looked at her, his eyes suspiciously bright around the edges. His hand came up and wiped away a few tears from her eyes. "I have... I..." He coughed and cleared his throat. "I want you to know you..." He wanted to take her hand but discovered she had already taken his. "You're the... best assistant anyone could wish for. And..." He waved his hand in a helpless gesture. "I'm going to miss you, Miriam," he whispered. "I guess I always thought we'd... be together..." She nodded. The urge to lean over and kiss him was overwhelming. It would hardly matter, she rationalized. They'd already given her the duties of an Acolyte; they could hardly humiliate her any more. Besides, they would never see eachother again after today. Gdansk's eyes unfocussed. "Wait a minute..." he said softly. "You knew?" She nodded, confused. "What? How?" he asked. "I'm the one who has to tell you. How...?" Even as he spoke those words he knew that that didn't matter. Someone had broken the chain of authority. And that meant... "We can appeal," he said slowly. Miriam brushed a tear off her cheek with her sleeve. She shrugged, still not comprehending. "We can appeal to Eesyan," Gdansk repeated. "And how was I supposed to know she hadn't been released yet?" D'Nomo asked tersely as he refilled his cup. "He asked if we had had any hearings scheduled. He didn't say that the girl was looking for her Senior!" "Well, well..." Talken Tobit said slowly. He sniffed. "And you told her she was reassigned before she had spoken to her Senior?" The big man sighed and shrugged. "Yes," he admitted. "Alright. So they get to appeal. It won't make any difference. We'll schedule the ceremony after the midday meal and then she can teach the rest of the afternoon." "Oh, did I mention that Anton gave her a vow of silence?" D'Nomo said sarcastically. "For a full month. She's useless now!" Talken Tobit scowled. That clever bastard. "We should've given him the First Trial when we had the chance," he spoke quietly. D'Nomo squinted and took a sip from the winecup. "Can't we still do that?" "Are you mad!?" the High Priest asked in a shrill voice. "With the yearly donations of the nobles due next month? You know the Duke dotes on him. And a word from the Duke still goes a long way in Carlin." D'Nomo sighed and shook his head. He finished his cup and stood up to leave the room. "Cancel the first classes in the afternoon. It's a good opportunity for the Apprentices to see what happens to those who oppose the Temple." D'Nomo bowed briefly and replied: "It will be done." Talken Tobit solemnly raised his hands. The crowd went quiet. He nodded towards Gdansk and Miriam who were standing in the center of the hall. Gdansk nodded back. He and Miriam knelt and faced the floor. Then the High Priest knelt, the elders, the seniors, and so on, down to the 3rd grade apprentices and finally the Temple guards at the entrance, until every soul was in kneeling position. Gdansk recalled the words of one of his teachers: "When you are the one to start the prayer and you don't know how long to wait - wait a little longer. There is no such a thing as waiting 'too long' for the prayer to start." He spoke: "We, Gdansk of Korinth and Miriam of Korinth, are here today to appeal to you, Father of Reason. Guide us with Your hand. Give us Your Reason. Whether to overturn or confirm the Temple's verdict, Your word will be final. Order will prevail." During the hearing he had been so certain, so convinced that his actions had been right. And just now he felt the doubt creep up from behind and reach out to him. In the history of the Temple only two verdicts had ever been overturned by divine appeal. The last had been over two hundred years ago; the first was considered apochryphal. In both cases the acquitted priests had gone to perform miraculous feats of healing. They had become icons, examples of perfection. He had studied their lives and the tales surrounding them. He thought: how could I have been so certain? I'm not an icon. He glanced at Miriam. Her presence, even here, was soothing. Then the High Priest spoke. "Eesyan the Wise will speak to us through the Test of the Stones." Everybody rose. As Gdansk stood up Miriam tugged his sleeve. When he looked at her in surprise she pointed at her chest. He frowned in confusion. She quickly formed the symbol for 'self' in caster's cant. "Gdansk of Korinth, which of you will be tested?" the High Priest asked. Two Temple guards entered the Main Hall carrying a large basket covered with a heavy black cloth. Gdansk looked at the basket, then at Talken Tobit. Miriam tugged his sleeve again. There were a few chuckles from the crowd. Gdansk sighed and turned to her. Miriam pointed at herself again. She looked at him with pleading eyes. He had never been able to resist that look. Did she think she could pass this test? Well, she could hardly do worse than him. Mentally, Gdansk shrugged. He turned towards the High Priest. "Sister Miriam will be tested," he said. A senior holding a short black rod walked over to her and touched her shoulder with it. The ankh at her side started glowing until it was surrounded by a yellow aura. A ring on her right hand and Dlanor's necklace also lit up. Miriam took off the ring and the amber necklace and gave them to the priest. Reluctantly she removed the ankh, squeezing it a final time, as if to drawn strength from it. The priest held up his hand and slowly she handed him the holy symbol. She was led before the basket and knelt on the stone floor. Then someone put a specially designed hood over her head and shoulders, effectively shutting out all light. The hood was known as the Hood of Innocence. She heard the rustling of cloth as the black cloth was removed from the basket. "Begin!" she heard the muffled voice of the High Priest. She stretched out her hands until they touched the rim of the basket, reached inside and took out the first stone. Ten rocks, picked randomly from the gardens, were painted in the colours of the spectrum. In order to pass the Test of Stones, all she had to do was align the rocks on the floor in order of ascending colours. An unnatural calmness had taken hold of her. It's impossible, a voice inside of her said. You can't possibly know the order! Unfazed, she continued to empty the basket until all the stones were piled up before her. She picked up a stone and turned it over in her hands. Its surface was smooth and elongated. The image of a freckled boy flashed through her. Suppressing a sigh she put the piece down again and took another, much bigger piece. It was rounded at one end and tapered into sharpness at the other side. Someone coughed. She thought it was the fat Master Scribe. Intense disgust welled up inside her at the prospect of him being her Mentor for a long time to come. She saw him before her again, as in her dream, telling her: "We took your voice. There it goes." She took another rock and winced; she had cut the fingers of her right hand on the sharp end. She felt blood starting to seep down her fingers and hands. It wouldn't do to wipe her hand off on her clothes, let alone on the Hood of Innocence. She was in the middle of a ceremony. There was nothing to do but hurry. Panic threatened to rise again, a strong undercurrent in a sea of tranquility. Once she had finished placing the stones, they would take him away and she would not see him again. She calmed herself again. For now they were still together. He would be standing behind her, to the left, watching. A little blood on the floor or on the stones didn't matter. She would take all the time she needed. The cityguard of her dream peered at her again, asking: "Where do you want to go?" His eyes looked murderous as he fingered the sharp end of his weapon. Something inside her clicked. Gingerly she ran her fingers over the curve of the stone in her hand. It was shaped just like the blade of an axe. Or a halberd. Her hands froze. The dream. Gods, it would show... she could... they would... Becoming aware she was holding her breath, she released it in a sob. She felt lightheaded with relief. Tears rolled down her cheeks in gratitude. Then the sea calmed down again. She wasn't there yet. The key to the correct order was in the dream. She focussed on the various images of her dream. Recalling them was easy. First, the freckled apprentice had offered her a banana. Her hands dropped the blade-shaped stone and searched for the smooth elongated piece. She placed it to the utmost left of her. The cityguard with his blade came next. Slowly she arranged the stones in a row in front of her, her excitement mounting as she progressed. With the last stone in her right hand she went through the order one more time. Once she let go of the last stone, the test was over, for better or worse. Wait, she chided herself. I have plenty of time. Did the orc skull come before the headless chick or after? Before, she decided. It simply had to work. Her hand moved down to release the last stone. My fate is in your hands, my Lord, she thought. She put down the stone at the end of the row, lifted her hand and sat up. Her right hand felt wet. The hall was silent. Miriam grew nervous when noone spoke. What if she had been wrong after all? What if she had seen answers that weren't there? Picked from her twisted dreams, her nightmares. At last someone whispered: "This can't be!" It was as if a spell had been broken; people gasped, some broke out in prayer. A few of the less disciplined apprentices cried out in surprise. Behind her, to the left she heard someone fall down. Dance! Unable to contain herself any longer, she yanked off the hood and looked behind her. Gdansk was on his knees, hands flat on the floor, as if in worship. She started to rise, annoyed with his theatrics. About ready to pull him up she was startled to see the two assisting priests kneel in similiar position. She glanced before her at the row of stones. Her throat went dry. Crimson, saffron, lemon, silver, lead. Jet, cinnamon, lavender, indigo and olive. The colors of the spectrum in order of ascent. At the back of the Hall Anton Reeve was the first to stand up from his seat and kneel down. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the other priests followed. Miriam's gaze met the High Priest's. She saw a number of things in his expression, but awe was not one of them. He knelt down briefly and proceeded with the ceremony. In a flat tone he announced: "Eesyan has spoken. The verdict has been overturned. Let us thank our Lord who graces us with his presence." What followed was a short prayer but for all Miriam concerned it could've been a shoppinglist for groceries. She looked at the stones again and the people who were kneeling before her. It wasn't me, she wanted to tell them. Please get up. I didn't do anything. It was in my dream. Eesyan spoke to me in a dream. A God spoke to me, she thought. The thought overwhelmed her. The room started to spin and she slipped into unconsciousness.