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“That’s how they tell it,” she’s saying. “The All-Giver is all things and made all things, but the One God got tired of handling it all alone. So One lay with the sea and the sky and the earth to birth the nine godlen, three for each, so that they could help oversee the realms.”
“The All-Giver is a lady, then, if she had babies,” one of the kids pipes up.
The elderly woman chuckles and moves her hand down her front in the three-fingered tap. “The Great God is both man and woman and neither all at the same time. It’s the grandness of divinity.”
The little ones look as if they’re as unsatisfied with that answer as I’d have been at that age, but there’s no denying the fondness in the woman’s expression or the eager curiosity in theirs. They are cared for here.
More than I was, after everything went wrong.
I swallow down the ache of that thought and yank my attention back to our host.
The woman leads us through a few of the rooms on the lower floor and up the stairs to the second, which holds mostly bedrooms it appears four or five children share each. As far as I can tell, there are fifty or so orphans in residence at the moment, ranging from a babe one of the other staff is feeding from a leather bottle to gawky preteens who can’t be more than a few months shy of their dedication ceremonies.
But that’s the oldest I see. As we circle back to the staircase, I venture a question. “Where do they go after their dedications?”
The manager runs her hand back through her rumpled curls. “Oh, the ones who don’t end up adopted—which is most of ‘em—go off to the temples in service of their chosen godlen. It’s not a bad life. They’re usually happy to get away from the bedlam here.”
“Do they get to see much of the city beyond the institute before then?” Casimir asks. “I can tell you don’t have enough assistance to easily keep track of all of them if you make an excursion.”
“That’s true. It’s simpler keeping an eye on them here. We’ve got the garden and the river there for them to splash around in. But of course our benefactor arranges occasional visits to the royal college for the ones he feels have the most interest in seeing what the gods can provide.”
I stifle a frown. Is that really all there is to Torstem’s tours? He’s showing off the glory of the ruling powers?
I can’t see anything especially ominous about the arrangements here, though.
Casimir snaps his fingers. “That reminds me. I assume you keep records of which of your charges made those visits, and where each of them were placed after their dedications?”
The woman hesitates. “Well, yes, of course.”
“It would be ever so helpful if we could look those over while we’re here. There are a couple of past visitors who made an impression on people they met at the college, who’d like the chance to support their continued spiritual growth.”
It’s a deft enough excuse that I mentally applaud Casimir’s cleverness. We need to find out what’s really happened to the kids Ster. Torstem brought around.
But the woman twists her hands in front of her, maybe realizing that she doesn’t have definite proof that we’re associated with her benefactor at all.
Casimir beams at her as if he hasn’t noticed her reluctance. A whiff of magic tingles over my skin before he speaks again. “You really have done a fantastic job for them here with the resources you have. I must commend you for that.”
The orphanage manager’s smile comes back. “Well, thank you. I—here, let me get our record books. They aren’t the tidiest ever, but you should be able to find what you need.”
He does have a way about him, doesn’t he?Julita says with a tinge of her own admiration.
He does. It’s almost trickery, how he persuades people, but he’s so gentle about it you can tell there’s no malice in it.
I’ve never known anyone quite like him. It’s hard not to think the world would be a better place with more.
As the manager sets a few stained canvas-bound books on a rickety table, a wail bursts out from downstairs. She lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’d better handle that. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Casimir flips open the first book. He pulls out a paper and writing supplies as he peruses the pages.
My gaze veers to the staircase. I lower my voice. “I’m going to take a quick look at the third floor.”
“Excellent idea.”
I check to make sure no staff are in view of the staircase and then slip up the steps, wincing inwardly at every creak. All of the rooms I peek into are more bedrooms, but at the third doorway, I pause.
The nervous boy I saw with Ster. Torstem a few days ago stands near the window. I recognize his wideset eyes and pinched chin in an instant, even though he’s dressed in a shabby tunic and trousers now.
I ease into the room. “Hello,” I say, doing my best to channel Casimir’s warmth. “You came by the college the other day, didn’t you? Did you enjoy your visit?”
