the voice of a devil, in this sacred place- doesn’t sound much different than an angel -- Weirdlet
The Dawn Lord, known in the northern realms as Albavaljeta[1], is well known as the god of life, rebirth, new beginnings, and sometimes also fertility. So it's understandable that their temples often become alternate depositories for unwanted babies[2].
It's far from unusual to see the temple grounds being maintained by young acolytes of Halfbreds of the Unwelcome People. And Hellkin of course.
The young charges of the temple should be seen, but not heard by the public. They sweep the grounds, tend the gardens, and cook the simple meals. Those adept at their letters copy books and keep the library. Only the acceptable Halfbreds are permitted to join the choir. The Unwelcome at the temple should remain quiet in public places.
Trustee Doegon's duty was to charge the ever-burning flame at the altar with fresh oil. Or, if the smoke was too offensive, ze moved the fire to a fresh bowl. Some temples used natural gasses for Albavaljeta's flame, but this one lacked such access, but had plenty of blubber to render from the creatures of the ice and oceans.
Most of the Hellkin were in the caverns, rendering oil and soap. The rest were like Doegon... working in the darkest hours of the night.
In the empty halls, as Doegon charged the lanterns with fresh oil, he heard someone singing one of the most popular hymns. A solitary voice echoing through the unpopulated rooms. Singing so sweetly that Doegon wept for the beauty of it. Such pure notes. Such heartfelt devotion to the coming dawn and the longer days of Spring.
That voice had to be in the temple choir, but ze had heard the choir and never heard such clarity in hir life. Such a voice was a clear blessing from the gods themselves. Doegon dashed the tears from hir eyes and doffed hir shoes to creep into the temple sanctum and see who was singing so purely.
Ze found one of the Hellkin acolytes. Ryse. Hands on a mop to clean the floor, eyes closed, and mouth open in clear devotion to Albavaljeta. So dedicated that she shone with hallowed light from within.
"Blessed be the light in the darkness," Doegun whispered, making the sign of the rising sun with hir hands. And breaking the spell.
The hymn broke off in a yelp, and Ryse scrambled to prostrate herself on the damp floor. "I'm sorry," she squeaked. "I know my kind aren't s'posed'a sing inna temple. I thought I could sing for Him on my own. I didn't mean disrespect."
Doegun barely remembered that hir feet were still clad in stockings. Just in time, ze stopped short of the mop-water on the floor. "I heard the voice of an angel, lifted in pure love for the Lord of Light. It matters not to Him what skin you wear. Only that your love is deep and abiding. I shall talk with the Abbot on your behalf. You have shone a light on a wrong that needs to be amended. Rise... and please sing on."
Uncertain, Ryse rose and resumed her work. Too scared to sing a peep, which was Doegun's wrong to amend.
It took hir four weeks to convince both the Abbot and young Ryse to come together. Ryse singing in an otherwise empty hallway, and the Abbot listening around the corner. He, too, was driven to tears from the beauty of her voice.
"Who is it among us who sings so well?" Abbot Alba asked in a whisper, not daring to disturb the song.
"Acolyte Ryse, your grace."
"Ryse? The violet mute devilborn we let mop?"
"She's not mute, sir. She's... understandably shy." Doegon had to clarify, "She believes we will punish her for singing."
"Songmistress Aurora will ease her out of her shell. She has a blessing with encouraging the shy ones."
It took Aurora two months to coax Ryse into singing with the choir. A lesson for all in accepting the gifts of the gods, regardless of the person wrapping them.
A lesson that most of those attending the next ceremony had trouble with until, eyes tight closed, Ryse sung for them all.
[1] For those who wish to know, it's pronounced al-baa-val-yet-ah.
[2] You can imagine other, better places for the most popular depositories. It's better that you don't know the truth.
[Photo by Ritabrata Das on Unsplash]
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