All Blessers had a Protector or Protectress of their order, selected by a council of Blessers chosen at random throughout the whole country. The council traveled through the land, visiting every city, town, every castle and farmstead, meeting all the Blessers and basing their decision on these meetings and on personal testimony. It was as free from political maneuvering as such things could be-which is to say, not quite entirely free. Once chosen, the Protectress would sever all personal ties to her friends, family, and home. She would even be stripped of her name, henceforth be known only by her title. Her duties were many and varied, but the induction of new Blessers certainly was among the happiest.
Mhar's Protectress of Love was rail-thin, but stood straight as the young king, perhaps even straighter. Her long hair, gray as slate, hung unbound, strands dancing in the playful wind, and despite the solemnity of the occasion there was warmth in the old woman's eyes and seamed face. Her garb was a rich, bright blue and she wore a belt of golden chain. Standing beside her was Love's chosen animal-a small, skittish fawn. Encircling the little beast's throat was a golden chain that matched the Protectress's. A Tender not much older than Adara held the nervous creature in check, speaking to it softly and patting its smooth, dappled coat.
'Welcome, Adara, Tender of Love,' said the Protectress in a husky voice that nonetheless carried well. 'You come before Love's Protectress a girl, but you shall depart a woman.'
Castyll watched the initiation along with the others, but his thoughts were not on the sacred rite he witnessed. He was thinking about the speech tucked into his belt; the speech that he was to give to all within earshot after young Adara became a full Blesser; the speech that he, Castyll, had not penned one single word of. Every syllable was Bhakir's, pushing forward the counselor's treasonous plans. In that document was amnesty for pirates, official countenancing of replacing good men with evil. It shook to the foundation everything Shahil had worked for-everything he had hoped that his son would carry on in his stead.
There was another speech — in Castyll's mind. He mentally reviewed it while the young Tender was undressed, bathed, anointed with oils, and reclad in the light blue robe of a fully vested Blesser. Her body was tanned and firm, only just beginning to fill out with womanly curves. There was little salaciousness in observing Adara nude. Everyone present knew that this was a deep ritual, and the majority behaved accordingly. The sight of the young Blesser's body made Castyll think only of Cimarys, and he wondered briefly what the young Princess of Byrn would look like standing naked in the sunshine.
The thought produced an instant physical reaction, and Castyll hastily returned his wandering thoughts to more pressing-even deadly-matters.
It was over. Laughing and crying, the new Blesser embraced the Protectress, then knelt to put her arms around the young deer. It bleated in protest and skipped backward, and all assembled laughed. Adara, Blesser of Love, rose and turned to Castyll, her eyes shining, with an odd mixture of pride and apprehension on her plain face.
'King Castyll,' she began, stepping forward boldly, as was her right now to do — the Blessers obeyed the king, but being representatives of the gods, walked on almost equal footing with their liege-until she was only a foot or so away from him. 'I am now a fully vested Blesser of Love. I invite you, before all assembled, to be the first to come to me to be taught in the ways of Love, so that you might better honor the goddess.'
Castyll was momentarily taken aback, but almost at once he realized he should have expected this. Young men, especially the sons of nobles or others of high regard, were sometimes invited to lie with the Blesser of Love their first time. She would teach them how to honor the goddess through the movements of their bodies, in the sacred act of lovemaking. The son of the king certainly would have been asked. Shahil ought to have been the one to escort his son to the temple for this passage into manhood; instead, the boy had become a man not through the passion of a woman, but through the weight of an invisible crown upon his dark head.
But one thing or another had delayed the rite of passage, and now Castyll would go as a man to the temple of Love. Castyll did not for an instant think this was betraying the sincere love he bore Cimarys; and knew that she would not regard it so. The excitement that flooded him at the offer of this very young Blesser of Love was not sexual. Rather, he knew that, for one full night, he would not be under the eye of the guards. And one night would be enough to escape.
He bowed low. 'Lady, you honor me. I shall come to Love's temple, and be taught in the ways of love.' Adara's face shone with joy, and blushed with nervousness. A huge roar went up from the crowd, for the day that the king rode to Love's temple would be yet another holiday. Ilantha had not recently seen such happy times.
Castyll sobered somewhat as he realized what was next in the ceremony. Now it was time for him to take center stage, to step forward, and spread Bhakir's poison throughout the happy crowd.
He moved toward the raised dias, carrying the rolled-up parchment in his right hand. Then, deliberately, he caught the toes of his right foot behind his left and stumbled forward. To catch himself, the young king flung his arms wide, hurling the vile speech outward. His brief, whispered prayer was answered. The wind, as if it were a live thing sensing a new playpretty, caught the parchment and lifted it up high above the heads of the onlookers.
Feigning distress, Castyll cried, 'My speech!' He kept his smile small and secret at the sight of the guards chasing after the dancing parchment as it dipped and skittered just out of their reach. Finally, a stronger gust than the others caught the four pages and bore them up high, till they were lost from sight.
'Oh, no!' cried Castyll in mock horror. 'I — well, my people, you will now have the opportunity to see your king speak unrehearsed. I ask your indulgence.' He gave a winning smile, and the crowd chuckled appreciatively. Castyll felt Bhakir's gaze boring holes into him, but he did not meet the counselor's eyes. He was doing it. The words he spoke today would be listened to by travelers, who would take the news to their own towns. Many of those here today were sailors; Castyll knew that this speech would reach even Byrn.
'I shall speak, then, from the heart,' he began, 'which is more appropriate to such an occasion than carefully scripted speeches. Today we are here to celebrate the goddess Love and those who serve her. We all serve her, whenever we think a good thought about our neighbor. We serve when we clothe and feed the poor. We serve when we treat our families with gentle words and a soft hand. And we serve,' he said, watching the crowd's reaction intently, 'when we take steps towards peaceful relations with other countries.'
They were listening. Bhakir's face was outwardly composed, but Castyll knew that the counselor was furious. He continued.
'We have long had good relations with our neighbor to the north, Byrn. Many of us have friends or family there. And trade, particularly between Ilantha and Braedon, has never been better.' He smiled, and said in a confiding tone, 'I in particular have great need of Love's blessing, for as you all know, I am betrothed to Byrn's princess, the fair Cimarys. And dear Lady Adara, new Blesser, perhaps you will even preside over our vows soon!'
This, as he had hoped, produced an enthusiastic round of applause. Few things pleased the common folk better than tales of young royals in love.
'Therefore, I take this opportunity to officially state that I, and I hope all my people, are at peace with our neighbors. We fear no invasion, no threat to our wives or children. Trade is sound, and all make honest profits. Byrn is not populated with the cold elves, nor the evil Ghil-it is home to people just like us. And on this day of changes, the only change I advocate is that we move forward in the spirit of Love, in the spirit of understanding and harmony. You are my people, and I swear to you now-I shall always strive to protect and nurture you, just as the beloved goddess sustains us with her kindness. Thank you.'
The applause was thunderous. Castyll grinned from ear to ear, but the grin faded as the guards and Bhakir swept up to usher him away from the scene of celebration. Bhakir, too, smiled and waved at the throng, but his grin reminded Castyll of the predatory smile of a mountain cat.
'What in the Nightlands were you doing?' growled Bhakir through his grimace of a smile. Castyll feigned innocence. 'I lost my speech, you saw what-'
'I saw you drop the speech, you little…' Bhakir composed himself with an effort. The guards now had closed in around the young king, and though he still stood taller than most of them they formed an effective barrier between him and the crowd. 'Forgive me, Majesty. I am merely distressed that your… lack of grace at such a crucial moment resulted in such a poor speech. You mentioned none of the things we discussed.'
Triumph flared in the youth. Bhakir wasn't ready — yet- to voice his true thoughts in front of the guards. Perhaps some of them were still loyal to the young king, after all. No, he hadn't mentioned the 'things we discussed.' Not one cursed word. 'I'm sorry, Bhakir-I got flustered,' Castyll lied. 'I tried to think of something appropriate. Something to do with love.'
