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I shrugged. "I dunno. I just don't like the girls in my class. They all treat me like I'm a baby."
"Would you kiss a girl?" Irila asked.
Again, I could only shrug. "Maybe? It doesn't feel as weird as the idea of kissing Jamik, so I don't know. Besides, it might not even matter. I mean, maybe I'm going to be a guardian like you."
Irila blew a raspberry at that. "Don't think so. You are much too interested in all of this. I figure you're either going to end up following the Path of the Body or throw yourself into Action."
"Action?" Amerlee asked. "Think so?"
"Well, yeah. Nariana's always been interested in the ceremonies, and she loves reading, so I could definitely see her in services or helping with setup. I mean, everyone aims for Body or Protection, but most of us don't get it."
"How will I know?" I asked.
"You don't," Amerlee told me. "You simply decide your Path, throw yourself into it as hard as you can, and hope that the God of Temptation listens. There's nothing wrong with wanting the Path of Action, though. You know that, right? It's just that the higher tiers are the ones that get all the glory. We still need the people who know how to make flower arrangements and the ones who help on prayer days. In truth, we need more of those than anything else."
"Except Obligation," Irila mumbled.
Amerlee bobbed her head in a weak agreement. "Yes, but those are the priests who aren't truly committed to Zeal. I don't see that as Nari's problem. She studies hard, is mastering the finer skills, and seems truly invested in her calling."
"Is that what it is?" I asked. "I kinda thought this was just my lot. Don't get me wrong, I still want to be the best priestess I can, but I didn't really get called. I got dumped. No one asked me what I liked. I wasn't even warned about it. I was just told to lie about my age and got left with some Priest of Compassion."
"And what is that if not a calling?" Amerlee asked me. "You were there, with six gods available, andonewho claimed you as his. You could've gone to Compassion like your brothers. You didn't. Why not?"
"Because I'm not compassionate?" I guessed.
Amerlee canted her head. "Do you honestly believe that? Of all the gods, Merci is closest to ours. Most of what I do is based in compassion of some kind, just the harder types of it."
I let my eyes fall to the ground as I thought about that. "Maybe because I'm strong enough to do this? Because it sounds like the Priests of Compassion are a lot more sensitive than we are."
"Exactly," Amerlee agreed. "You've never been meek because you have to be. You know how to be meek when it serves you. Never confuse those two, and know when fighting for something is the better option. Fight for the Path you want, Nari. The temple gives you ten years to prove yourself. You're almost halfway there, so it's time to make sure Zeal knows what you really want.
Chapter 9
Nariana
Itook Amerlee's lesson to heart and began investing in my courses. In truth, I didn't really know the Path I wanted to follow. Protection sounded like a good one. I loved my agility classes, after all, and defensive training with Jamik was my favorite thing in the world. Kissing Anver made me realize how much I liked that part as well. And, for the rest of our fifth year of school, Saval explained exactly what it meant to serve with our bodies.
Outside the Temple of Temptation, most people assumed the Path of the Body was the only one. Those were the priests and priestesses they actually saw. They were the ones whose names were known. The priests who followed the Path of the Word were assumed to be retired, and there was a bit of truth to that. They were older, no longer in demand by the patrons making requests, but still knowledgeable enough to teach the wisdom of our god. Unfortunately, standing in front of a crowd and talking to them didn't sound like much fun.
The Path of Action was vital, if often overlooked. Every single thing the priesthood did was made possible because of them. They weren't required to lay with anyone out of responsibility, but weren't restricted from doing it either. There were no demands for them to push their limits, to suffer for a patron's needs, or to ignore their own desires because of their responsibilities. It was the perfect middle ground. A safe place, or so Saval made it sound.
And for those who wanted even less to do with any aspect of our faith, there was always the Path of Obligation. It wasn't glamorous. Washing sheets and cooking food was little more than menial labor, but the truth was that someone had to do it. Some people even enjoyed it. That was why our god made it an option.
However, I didn't really want to be safe. With each year that passed, I wanted to strive for more. I wanted to one day meet my real brothers again and let them see how high I would get in Zeal's temple. I wanted to show everyone who'd assumed I was too poor, too small, too young, or too inexperienced that those things were only temporary. Yet all of my peers came from the same situation. We'd each been surrendered for one reason or another, claimed by Zeal as his, and given this chance.
Now it was supposed to be in my hands. The same hands stained by Zeal's lace when I'd slapped the water as a little girl. The ones that told a story to those who could read it, but I wasn't one of them. It took years of training to decipher the swirls, and only the highest priests claimed the ability. Luckily, on the first day of our sixth year, we finally got to see how it worked.
As a group, the sixth-year students headed to the Temple of All Gods dressed in our formal black robes. The doors were closed to the public for the week, and each day was set aside for a different god. I walked in beside my closest friend, Anver, aware that not even the presence of the cleaning staff made this place look less impressive. Without the crowds from the Day of Surrender, I could finally experience the full glory.
"Do you think the gods really look like that?" Anver asked, pointing at one of the enormous statues.
"Well, which one is Zeal?" I looked around the room, my eyes checking the faces of each. "I would think he'd be lovely, wouldn't you?"
Anver pointed. "That's him. It has to be."
I followed his finger and began nodding. The one in question was on the opposite side of the domed room from where my father had taken me. All of the statues leaned over a basin, but each one was posed differently. Compassion hugged hers. Inspiration was reaching for the surface. Perception looked down at hers in wonder. Intuition had his eyes closed. Ambition held a pitcher, as if he was about to pour more. Then there was Temptation.
Zeal's statue was everything I'd imagined my god to be. He was beautiful, with high cheekbones and a clean jaw. His lips were parted, the corners of his mouth turned up like he was just about to smile, and his cupped palms were held out as if he was offering the handful to whoever walked past. Then there was his robe, parted to reveal a bare chest beneath, the length of it positioned to lie carefully over his crotch.
