Regi's Goddess, chapter 5 (Patreon)

Alb filled the uneasy silence. “All gods are equal, but certain heretics do enjoy exalting one god or a small cadre of gods above others. The followers of Gavd are rabid in their respect for all gods because the god of justice would accept nothing less. But among those who have been rejected from Gavd’s service, there are those who believe that the god of justice is more significant and should be given more respect than other gods. The Lady Jinja, goddess of the unknowable, is sometimes upheld as the most revered, and others believe Retav, Lord of retribution is the primary god.”

“Others believe those three are the sacred marriage from which all other gods descended,” Sibja added. “Jinja, the wife with her two husbands, although I find it interesting that heretics cannot agree on whether Gavd or Retav is the da-husband.”

“Which Gimi calls proof that all heretics are fools who try to make the gods so like Kowri that they would have marriages as we do.” Alb didn’t hide her disgust. “When there is no proof for which of two options is correct, one should reevaluate whether one has overlooked a third alternative or whether one might be so lost as to no longer be able to form a rational question. It does not take a follower of Lady Onidba to have that much logic at one’s disposal.”

“I assume Lady Divashi is not as popular,” Dante guessed. The man did possess keen insight.

“The Lady of poisons is unpopular, although she has followers, unlike Poque. I believe Regi a’Divashi was the last Kowri to leave sacrifices for that grand lady who once led the Kowri Empire to expand across space.” Alb gave Regi a look that was too full of devilry and condescension. It was as if Regi’s mother had taught Alb that exact expression. “When Kowri were first reaching for the stars, she was more beloved than Gavd. Young people flocked to leave offerings for her frim in the hopes that she would choose them for some grand adventure.”

“For young people, the grand adventure is more important than the god,” Dante muttered. Sibja drew in a quick breath and her ears tilted backwards. Dante’s head jerked up. “No offense, ma'am. I suppose I'm speaking more for my people than yours, since I don't know yours well. But I do know that throughout history, there been any number of times that young people have flocked towards some adventure whether it be a new world or a new war, and some of them invoked God's name, less for God than to justify what they wanted.”

Alb chuckled. “Sibja a’Iloxot, you don't need to feign dismay for a class full of first-year temple acolytes. You and I both know he's right.”

Sibja huffed without saying anything to either agree with or contradict Alb. Regi reminded himself that he was an exalted with equal authority to these two ladies, but when an exalted of the Lady of punishment looked that distressed, Regi did devoutly wish for a task in another room.

“Young people are the same everywhere,” Alb said, humor now coloring her condescension. “Has Regi a’Divashi explained how he pledged himself to Poque and abandoned the temple?” Regi’s fur bristled, but he couldn’t defend himself from the truth. He had done that, and with the wisdom of hindsight, he knew he had been arrogant and angry and seeking to find a way to escape not just his home or his planet but his entire people. He had not been reasonable. However, once he had made his choice, he had never denied his Lady of wandering until a more deadly Lady had taken an interest in him.

“He has. I've known quite a few people who've done worse to get on one of the rockets to Mars.”

“Mars? That does not translate.”

“Our second planet. It's only been about thirty years since my people first set up a rudimentary settlement on Mars, so moving there is an adventure. Most young people dream of leaving Earth and braving the dangers of space to claim a spot on that world. Security is exceptionally tight, and despite that, there have been a few creative individuals who have found a way to steal someone's identity or stowaway among the livestock to reach Mars. Once they reach the settlement, it costs too much to send them back to Earth, and so they get their adventure.”

Alb clapped her hands delightedly. “I would love to record those stories. Very few still read the oldest of Oba’s sacred texts, but they include similar escapades. Young Kowri counted it as a grand triumph to reach a new world when they had been denied the blessing of parents and temple. They say the gods favored those who took such risks, or certain gods did anyway.” Alb’s eyes again lost focus. Regi wondered whether failing eyesight or a love of old stories caused that sense that she sometimes drifted away.

“It is more likely the gods noticed those who did so. One cannot be exalted without first being noticed, although god-touched and god-chosen are two distinctly different paths,” Sibja said. She leaned back, her body language relaxing minutely. Regi’s shoulders loosened at a sign of success so small that it might exist only in his imagination. However, he believed they were on the best path. Alb had begun to see similarities between the early Kowri explores and huumans, and her word would go far to convince the scores of Kowri who remained silent on the matter of the Coalition crew and ship.

“Sitting in a room with others chosen by the gods, I can say it is the more difficult path,” Alb said. “I am fortunate for reaching my age; the god’s luck often outstrips our resources as exalteds before age can take us. But my Lady is the mildest of all the cold weather gods. I would say she chose the wrong season, but storytelling is a task for when the snow runs deep. What is the value of telling a story if everyone has too many tasks to sit and listen?”

“The librarian back home used to say that if someone wrote a story that no one ever read, it couldn't be rightly called the story,” Dante agreed.

Alb propped her chin up with a delicate fist. Age had started to carve away the fat leaving her as insubstantial as a tatbo tree swaying in the wind. “Do you believe your people possess followers of Oba or Divashi?” The question caught Regi off guard, and his gaze flew to Dante. The wrong answer could cross the boundary of impious and land in heretical territory.

“I am not up to the task of debating theology. If we can ever find my planet, there will be hundreds if not thousands of people who will happily debate the relationships between your gods and mine, but I have always made a point of avoiding any discussion of someone else's gods.”

Alb smiled. “That is a rare bit of good sense coming from someone so young.” She glanced in Regi's direction, and he was at a loss to interpret her gesture. She might be complimenting him on finding a reasonable outsider or implying that he lacked similar good sense. Her pale eyes pinned him to his seat with the power of a pulse weapon.

As a young man, Regi had found temple exalteds confusing and distressing. In more recent years, he had convinced himself that he had felt small in their presence only because he had been young. And that conclusion was utterly wrong because her studied gaze made Regi want to apologize for all his sins. Being an adult had not cured that.

“I'll be honest, I'm not sure what you or Regi expect I can do to help any of this,” Dante said with more volume than necessary in a small space.

Alb transferred her gaze to Dante, but her expression softened. “I expect you can help simply by proving that outsiders are capable of conversation that does not serve to insult the gods.”

“The gods cannot hear their insults to take offense to them,” Sibja said. She crossed her ankles and rotated one foot slowly, her gaze focused on that restless limb. “Iloxot is unbothered by insults, regardless of the source. I have listened to fathers condemn my Lady’s name after I passed judgement and I have seen women fall to the ground and beg her for a mercy that neither she nor I would grant because punishment had been earned, and I know that my Lady is disturbed by neither. However, Kowri are as quick to take offense as any sapient creature.”

“I always figured the good Lord was too great to get offended by any words I might say, although that did not prevent my grandmother from taking offense to those words,” Dante said with a smile.

Alb studied Dante. “I wonder if you are god-touched.”

Sibja snapped her head around to pin the woman with a horrified look.

Alb waved her hand as though dismissing Sibja as she might a stray flitt. “We are not in public and I know you have entertained the same thought. The boy handles dops. In any other circumstances, we would have tossed him into the temple to see if the sacred animals claimed him.”

Sitting bolt upright, Sibja appeared ready to fly into battle. “You cannot mean to take such a course of action.”

“Of course not. Allowing an outsider into the temple proper would be sacrilegious, but it would make a good story.” Her voice grew faint. “As a follower of the Lady Oba, I am allowed to seek good stories.”

“I would appreciate if this meeting were limited to topics more relevant to reality.” Sibja’s voice had a formality that made the hair of Regi’s arms ripple with distress. Alb may have just lost them critical support, and her eyes still had a distant, haunted emptiness that Regi feared might imply a feebleness of mind he had not noticed before.

After a second, Alb shook her head and pricked her ears so far forward that Regi could see the pink interior. “It would be a boon if we could get others to recognize that Dante is a reasonable being. Is there any excuse we could use for introducing Dante to a small society outside the temple?”

Dante looked to Regi with such hope that Regi swallowed all his protestations about the danger. In the city, Dante might cause a mob, and when people could hide their hand in a sea of arms, they would allow themselves to commit evils that would not survive the light of even a cloudy day. Regi would not put Dante in that sort of danger, and he did not believe it would improve their situation anyway. They needed Kowri to speak to Dante, not whisper about him. “He has wished to ride pebafri. That would allow him to speak with the stable master and those who toil in the stables.”

Sibja laughed. “I had thought you reasonable, Dante a’Texas. No one but children desperate to impress Gavd go near those great creatures.”

“No offense, ma’am, but I grew up riding a similar beast called a horse. I'm more comfortable getting around on a horse’s four feet than I am walking on my two.”

“Given the punishment he suffered in captivity, it would seem appropriate to allow him some leeway in exploring.” Alb emphasized the word punishment, and Sibja narrowed her eyes. If one counted slavery as a penance, that meant addressing any unfairness in the meting out of that suffering fell under the Lady Iloxot.

“There is not an exalted in the temple who is not going to know exactly what we’re doing,” she said.

“And yet, there is not an exalted in the temple who can stop you from doing it. You are the exalted of the Lady Iloxot and Jib will not contradict you.”

“Jig?” Dante’s voice danced as though he was amused by the name. Regi wished he had some godly insight into Dante’s thoughts, but huumans appeared to differ from much of the universe, and the other huuman slaves had either died at the hands of the slavers or found ways to kill themselves to avoid the torment of slavery. Only Dante had persisted. Perhaps the Lady Divashi had given him the strength to endure whatever had driven the other huuman slaves to their death. That was an impious thought that he would never speak aloud, but Dante was the only one caring for the dops, and the Lady did love her animals.

“Jig a’Iloxot,” Sibja said. “He believes your crew are victims of circumstances. He argues we should remove you from the ship, repair it with all haste and then toss the outsiders back across the border so they can return to their people. He is quite vociferous in his preferences, but we do not contradict each other, and he holds no animosity for any outsider.”

“Dante would have to learn the specifics of riding the pebafri, and that would allow him to speak to those in the stable.” Regi had taken lessons back when he had been one of those children hoping to impress Gavd. Stable masters were exacting in their care for the animals and would not allow anyone to ride until they had ensured that the rider could handle the pebafri without anyone dying, especially the pebafri. They worried more about animals being ridden over poor ground or allowed to eat noxious weeds than a rider breaking his neck.

Alb nodded slowly. “You would want to choose one of the stables on the outer edge of the town. Those more closely associated with the spaceport would be aligned with Bekdi a’Gavd, and he is not a fan of outsiders.”

That was an understatement. “The temple has provided a fari, so I can seek out an appropriate stable.”

“Fari?” Dante asked. Sometimes the translation matrix was inadequate, and Regi feared that it could fail at a critical time, but ironically it had, so far, handled discussion of gods with more facility than household items.

“A communication device that allows us to speak with those at a distance, like the communication relays on the pirate vessel allowed us to contact the Gavd ship.”

“Oh, a phone. Got it,” Dante said. “I guess the other slaves and I never talked about phones when we were on the ship so this matrix didn’t catch it.” Dante tapped the side of his head.

“But you discussed gods?” Regi asked.

Dante blew out a breath, a gesture Regi could not understand despite the similarity Dante’s displays of humor. “We talked about gods, cursed gods, debated gods. At one point, Richard, Sophie and I put God on trial and decided he was a real bastard for letting us get taken by those pirates.”

“Bastard?” Sibja asked.

“Huumans insult each other using bodily functions and references to marital status,” Regi explained. He didn’t understand the purpose of such insults because he would rather made factual statements about a person’s lack of intelligence or tact, but Ter had a similar preference for metaphorical insults.

“That we do,” Dante agreed. “And if I get to ride and alien horse and convince people I’m not a complete barbarian, that would be a win. I would like to avoid being killed by self-righteous bigots who think I’m not worth a tinker’s damn.”

Regi would have asked for help translating part of that, but Alb spoke first. “I would greatly like to avoid your death because you, Dante a’Texas, are an interesting person. And I am old enough to say without qualification that there are too few interesting people in this universe. Your death would be a tragedy.”

“That would be my opinion on the matter,” Dante said with a two finger touch to his forehead. Sibja startled and looked to Regi, and only then did Regi consider that others might consider the gesture a mockery of the god tribute. However, the gesture was Dante’s and Regi would not strip him of any part of himself he had maintained during his time in captivity.

Age had given Alb longer fur than a young Kowri might possess, and her smile grew so wide that the fur bunched at the corners of her eyes so she appeared to bristle like a dop. “Arrange for that, Regi a’Divashi. Let others see Dante for who he is, and perhaps we can change some Kowri minds.”