The temple filled with holy incense and the chanting reverberated from the domed ceiling, making the voices sound as if they came rushing down from above and all directions at once instead of from the mouths of the celebrants. The ceremonies had been going on since dawn and would continue until after dusk. This hour was a relatively minor rite and had been delegated to the Rune Lord to allow the more senior priests some time to rest and refresh themselves before the greater services to follow. Yet for me, this was the pinnacle of my day. Cupbearer one and two had done their duty and now it was my turn. The perfect opportunity to pull off a flawless and polished performance, right in front of the one who was deciding on my promotion at the end of the week. He couldn't help but be impressed! After all, I had been practicing for weeks now in the night hours when the temple lay empty.
Here it comes. On the first beat, lift the chalice high. On the second, lift eyes to the heavens above. On the third, take a pace forward. On the fourth, another step as the Rune Lord lowers his eyes from the vaulted ceiling to gaze upon the approaching cup.
A subtle shove to the back of my knee and I stumble. A sharp snap, as the frayed thong of my sandal gives way and I lurch forward and fall to my knees. A growing look of horror on the Rune Lord's face as the cup is lofted airborne and describes a perfect parabola toward him, drenching his robes in spiced berry wine. A little snicker escapes the lips of cupbearer four as she neatly sidles back a pace into formation again as the Rune Lord's face flushes with an angry colour to match his ruined costume.
I drag myself up from the floor and hastily chase the rolling cup while cupbearer four neatly usurps the role and advances in stately fashion bearing her raised cup and the ceremony resumes. Some sharp words need to be penned to my parsimonious relations warning them of the disadvantages of thrift when it comes to footwear. A sharpened quill needs to be shoved into a sensitive part of the fourth cupbearer when she least expects it. Preferably at a similar important moment to wreak revenge.
Perhaps it's better not to write at all? It seems unlikely there will be news of any rise in cult rank to announce this month, after all...
A solemn Issaries rite
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- Posts: 181
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A solemn Issaries rite
Grumbold Rahlefson of the Locaem
Scrawny tow-headed beanpole of a lad; usually complaining about the cold, the damp, the pollen or the heat.
Proprietor of Silks and Sapphires. Conspicuously buy your apparel here!
Lt Col of the Royal Foot Guard.
Scrawny tow-headed beanpole of a lad; usually complaining about the cold, the damp, the pollen or the heat.
Proprietor of Silks and Sapphires. Conspicuously buy your apparel here!
Lt Col of the Royal Foot Guard.