As the platten slowed again, Danjin let out a long sigh.
“To think that I used to enjoy the Summer Festival,” he muttered. “How do the priests and priestesses endure this?”
Auraya chuckled. “We allow four times as much time to get anywhere as we normally do. Haven’t you encountered festival crowds before?”
“On foot,” he said. “Revellers don’t block the streets where I live - or surround and stop every Temple platten when it passes.”
She smiled. “We can hardly complain about that when their intention is to make a donation.”
The clink of a coin in the platten’s donation box emphasized her point.
Danjin sighed again. “I’m not complaining about that. I just wish they’d leave their donation at the Temple like everyone else, instead of holding up Temple plattens.”
“Donate at the Temple like the wealthy and important?” she asked. “Poor drunken folk rubbing shoulders with rich drunk folk?”
His nose wrinkled. “I suppose we can’t have that.” He paused, then his eyes brightened. “There should be a donation day for wealthy donators and another for the rest.”
She shook her head. “If there was, there would be such a large crowd in the Temple you’d never be able to leave the grounds. When people started approaching plattens years ago it was because the Temple was too crowded. It would be worse now.” She shrugged. “Drunken revellers have always been gripped by a spontaneous need to give us money or gifts. It’s hard to discourage them and trying usually means a longer delay. That’s why we had the donation boxes attached to our platten. It is the best solution.”
“But what would we do if we had to get somewhere urgently?”
“I’d lower the cover and ask them to clear the road.”
“Would they? Half of them are drunk and delirious.”
She laughed. “Yes, they are. It is a celebration, after all.” Tugging aside the flap, she peered outside. “It’s so heartening to see so many happy people. It reassures you that not everyone died in the war, and that people can be cheerful again.”
Danjin subsided into his seat. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it like that. I guess I am too impatient.”
Abruptly the platten began moving faster. It turned and the sound of coins entering the boxes ceased. Danjin lifted the platten flap on his side of the vehicle.
“At last,” he muttered. “We’ve reached civilization.”
On either side were mansions of the rich. The road to the Temple was the one thoroughfare the city guard kept clear of revellers. Instead it was filled by a long line of highly decorated platten. The wealthy disdained donation boxes, preferring instead to make a great show of their personal visits to the Temple.
“There’s the Timer family,” Danjin said, concern in his voice. “Look at the size of those trunks! They can’t afford to be giving so much away!”
Auraya peered over his shoulder. Extending her senses she read the minds of the old couple in the Tither platten.
“The first trunk is full of pottery, the second of blankets and the third is oil,” she told him. “Fa-Tither carries a modest amount of gold.”
“Ah.” Danjin sighed in relief. “It is all show then. I hope the gods do not mind.”
Auraya laughed. “Of course not! They have never demanded or expected money from their followers. People came up with the idea themselves. We’ve told people that sacrificing income to the gods doesn’t guarantee a place at their side after death, but they still do it.”
“Just in case.” Danjin chuckled. “The Temple would find it difficult if they didn’t, though. How else would they feed, clothe and house priests and priestesses - and undertake charitable projects?”
“We’d work something else out.” Auraya shrugged. “There are other benefits to the tradition, too. One of the farmers in my village gives most of his earnings to the local Temple in summer, then asks for most of it back when he needs it in winter. He says he’d spend it too fast otherwise, and that putting it in the care of the priest is his best protection against robbery.”
“Because priests are likely to be more Gifted than anyone else,” Danjin said.
He looked more relaxed now, Auraya noted. They had come from the hospice, in one of the poorer districts of the city. As a member of the city’s upper class, he had good reason to be uneasy there. If he had been alone, dressed as he was, he would probably have been robbed.
At this time of year he had even more reason to be cautious. The Summer Festival was also referred to as the Festival of the Thieves. Robbers, muggers and pickpockets took advantage of worshippers when they could, either waylaying them on their way to make a donation or breaking into homes in search of the savings stored in preparation for the festival.
The previous year a cunning young thief had made himself a fortune by climbing in under the Temple plattens, drilling a hole into the bottom of the donation boxes, and pocketing the coins. His first successes has inflated his confidence and on the last day of the festival, after stories of the thefts had circulated, he had been caught and beaten to death by enraged worshippers.
“We can’t be far away now,” Danjin muttered, peering out of the platten cover again.
Auraya closed her eyes and searched the thoughts of those around them. From the driver’s mind she read that they were nearing the Temple entrance, then she caught a snatch of anger from a vehicle in front. Looking closer, she learned that the occupant was Terena Spicer, matriarch of one of the most wealthy and powerful families of the city. Auraya was amused and a little disturbed to find the woman’s anger was directed at herself.
Intrigued, she watched as the woman’s thoughts churned. She barely noticed when Danjin informed her that they had passed through the arch and entered the Temple. Only when the platten stopped did she break her concentration. They climbed out. The paving before the Tower was crowded with plattens. Terena Spicer hadn’t emerged from her vehicle yet. Indicating that Danjin should follow, Auraya strode into the Tower.
The enormous hall inside was full of priests, priestesses and the usual crowd of wealthy families talking and gossiping after having deposited their donations. As always, the entrance of a White sent a thrill of excitement through the crowd. Auraya kept her pace swift and her eyes on the room where the donations were presented. Despite this, a man stepped forward, intending to intercept her. To her relief, a priestess moved into his path to prevent him.
Danjin followed, full of unspoken questions. She considered stopping to explain, but there was too little time. As she neared her destination, she briefly looked into the minds of those within the donation room. A family had just made their contribution and were about to leave. She opened the door and stepped inside.
Her arrival caused the room to fall silent in surprise. A high priest and four lesser priests sat before a long, sturdy table. The family stood just within the door. Auraya smiled and nodded to all.
“Please continue.”
“Fa Glazer was just leaving, Auraya of the White,” the high priest said mildly, making the sign of the circle. “Having made a most generous donation.”
“Indeed, I am,” the older man of the family said with dignity. He made the formal sign of the circle with both hands, then ushered his family out. As the door closed, the priests turned to regard Auraya.
“I’m here to observe a visitor,” she told them, moving to stand to one side.
The high priest nodded. Two of the lesser priests rose and, lifting the chests left by the family with magic, sent them floating through a door on the other side of the room. Auraya turned to Danjin. He could not stay here. The donations were meant to remain a secret.
“You had better wait in there,” she told him, nodding at the door the trunks had been taken through. “I want you to listen, if you can.”
He nodded and strode across the room to the door. It closed firmly after him. From his thoughts, she saw that he had pressed his ear to the crack of the door.
