SABINA

“Epoptas Sabina. A word?”

Only a year of familiarity with the Mater Melior’s catlike movements about the Temple kept Sabina from jumping and gasping in fright at the woman’s sudden appearance beside her. She swallowed nervously and, smoothing her robes, followed the Mater to her office.

This, too, was becoming familiar.

The Mater sat behind her desk with a sigh. She didn’t invite Sabina to sit, so the priestess stood, waiting for the conversation she knew was coming, that she could repeat verbatim in her head.

“You’ve been here with us a year, now.”

“Yes, Mater.”

“Dedicated to Norcia.”

It wasn’t a question, but Sabina answered anyway. “Yes, Mater.”

“You’re an Epoptas, yet you continue to work in the main Temple.”

Still no question, but Sabina sensed if she said anything right now it would not serve her best interests in leaving this room unscathed. She pressed her lips together, willing herself not to react.

“Why did you dedicate if you had no intentions to specialize?”

Sabina cleared her throat. “I was asked to, Mater.”

“By Norcia.” Disbelief laced the woman’s tone.

“I believe so, yes.” Sabina had long ago learned it was better to phrase it this way, rather than to say the truth: Norcia had sent her clear visions and instructions for over ten years.

“And Norcia doesn’t want you working in Her Temple? We have openings in the Temple of Destiny right now, and with the Prani delegation here on the station we could use another Epoptas in those ranks.”

Sabina couldn’t help the beat her heart skip, or the excitement that thrummed through her, though she hoped she kept it hidden. “The Prani delegation has arrived?” When? How had she missed it?

“Last night.” The Mater waved her hand, as if it were not important, but it was the most important thing she’d said. “The Sybilline Sisterhood could use you, Sabina,” she continued. “Their Mater Melior keeps breathing down my neck about your reticence. You know I can’t force you…”

…but you can give me every terrible assignment the Temple has.

“…so I hope you’ll at least consider joining the Sybilline. You could be a powerful Sybil. Maybe even a Pythia.”

Sabina could hear the lie in that last sentence; the Mater had no such faith in her abilities. It wouldn’t have been warranted anyway. The role of a Pythia—or even a Sybil—was not Sabina’s path.

But she made herself nod meekly, casting her eyes downwards in a show of submission. “I will consider it, Mater,” she said, infusing her words with as much truth as she could muster, which, considering the subject, was not much.

“Good,” the Mater said, clearly hearing all the truth Sabina had said. “Dismissed.”

Sabina gave a short bow, and made herself walk at a normal pace through the Temple, grateful beyond words her shift was already over.

It was finally time to follow the path her goddess had set her on.

***

DRAIVARYA

Draivarya S’madhara hated Irkalla Station already.

One night spent with his fellow mantrs, drinking at the bar instead of getting a good night’s sleep after their all-day shuttle ride from Maya, had led to a hangover he could have done without. If that had been all it was, well, he would have survived.

But the station stank in the way even the city didn’t. Six greenspaces to keep the air fresh and it still smelled stale and recycled, mixed in with even more offensive odors: sweat. Waste. Cooking meat.

The press of bodies, the feel of so many people around him…he’d always been more attuned to psychic noise than his peers. In specific circumstances, being so sensitive was almost pleasurable. Here and now it was torture; a cacophony against his already-aching head.

At the very least, his accommodations were sufficient. The Aradians hadn’t quite figured out how to truly make room for the Prani, who tended, as a species, to be taller—even Pudgala-caste—but his bed was long enough for his Adharma frame, which was nothing short of a miracle.

The room itself was small, but he wasn’t banging his head, and he had access to ostensibly fresh water…though that was restricted by a water ration. Something completely alien to a man from a planet that hadn’t known drought in centuries.

Everything about the Aradians was alien to him, yet somehow he had to court them diplomatically. He couldn’t help but feel he’d made a massive mistake, running for mantr. Never had he imagined he’d get it, but here he was, representing his planet to a bunch of theocrats who saw his people as backwards and primitive.

Maybe they were, if they’d seen fit to elect him.

A chime rang through his suite, and he went to answer it, hastily pulling on a shirt and grimacing as his knee twinged. He managed to stop limping by the time he opened the door, revealing Pratap and a few of the younger men in their delegation, along with their security detail.

“Draivarya,” Pratap said, inclining his head in greeting. “We wondered if you wished to accompany us as we avail ourselves of the station’s…delights.”

Before he could ask his mentor exactly what “delights” he spoke of, another of the men cut in. “We’re going to the Temple of Desire to see if these pleasure priestesses are everything they’re supposed to be.”

The younger man gave Draivarya a leering wink. He stopped his lip from curling in disgust, just barely.

Pratap cut the younger delegate a chiding glance. “No need to be crude about it,” he said, and instantly the other man wilted. Pratap turned back to Draivarya. “We’ll also go out for dinner and drinks. See what the Aradians have to offer us.”

If the Temple of Desire hadn’t been a complete turn-off for him, the mention of food surely was. The morning’s hangover lingered and his stomach roiled. And if all the station had to offer was the roasting meat he’d smelled? No thank you. He’d make up for the lack of food tomorrow.

He forced himself to smile, though it was only genuine for his mentor, who had done nothing to earn his bad mood. “Better not. I’m still feeling last night. You all have fun, though.”

Pratap tilted his head to the side. “Are you sure?”

“Quite. I still have reading to catch up on.” He’d not had a chance to read his briefs before boarding the shuttle ride, which he’d then slept through.

A rare smile graced Pratap’s face. “That work ethic will stand you in good stead, Draivarya. I knew I made the right choice with you.”

Draivarya swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. There was nothing he could say to that without embarrassing himself, so he settled for saying his goodbyes. Before he closed the door, the younger delegate stepped close and spoke.

“We’ll see if we can send a pleasure priestess back to you.”

“Please, don’t.” He had no desire to indulge in Aradian hypocrisy.

The other man winked. “Sure, sure.”

And before Draivarya could make his stance explicitly clear, the man was hurrying down the hallway, joining the rest of the mantrs on their quest for debauchery.

Draivarya gritted his teeth and comforted himself with the thought that it was unlikely the hetairai ever left the Temple of Desire to do house calls, anyway.