Taxing

By the time Ivhir had come to fetch him and the Holy Father had gone to her room, Charyic had spread out a meal of bread, cheese, and cold chicken, as well as butter and jam, and an entire pitcher of milk across her bed and the bedside table.

She looked at him coolly as he entered the room and took a seat on Ivhir’s cot. Watching her spread butter and jam on bread before adding chicken and cheese was somehow disconcerting.

“Would your holiness like some breakfast? I hadn’t planned on company but I can share.” She sounded tired and more than a little surly.

“No, thank you for the offer.” He watched her eat the food she had prepared as if it were perfectly normal. “Why do you put them all together?”

She stifled a laugh with her mouth full, chewing and swallowing until she could answer. “Because it tastes better that way. It all just,” she gestured around her food with her free hand, “fits, the tastes fit together.”

He smiled wryly and waited for her to finish eating as the food disappeared with surprising speed. “I am glad to see you’ve regained your appetite.”

She poured a cup of milk and sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “Thank you.”

“Did you have any trouble getting into the temple in the middle of the night?” His look was pointed.

Charyic smiled mischievously, “Not particularly. The problem with having a dearth of thieves is that you get lazy lockmakers. But Ayil is clever enough to remedy that with an extremely loud door.”

He laughed and nodded. “You needed to see her alone?”

Nodding as she sipped, Charyic answered, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I had offerings and requests.” Charyic seemed to be studying his face.

“It should be one offering one request.” He frowned.

Her smile looked sad and somehow bitter, “The other altar I wanted to kneel at is not here. But Ayil is family and she agreed to what is it called …” Charyic hunted for the word for a moment before shrugging and looking at the Holy Father.

“Intercede.”

“Yes.”

He could feel displeasure and curiosity mingling and he was being pushed to the back of his mind. “Ayil is family?”

Charyic smiled, “That is what grandfather said. Do you want to hear it or would you prefer not to?”

“Grandfather?”

She sipped her milk and nodded again, “You call him Wyil.”

“I would hear what he says about my Ayil.”

Looking down at her cup a moment before she looked into his eyes with a genuine smile, “Sweet girl, sharp girl. Family does its best. Loving girl has loving fathers. Bitter games. Could be kinder to a mother.” The room brightened and she laughed.

“You could come to me. You are mine.” The Holy Father could only watch as he rose from the cot and crossed to her bed. He stood next to her and looked down at her dubious face. “What did you ask of him that I could not give?”

She took a deep breath before answering, “If you could save Esus, you would. I think. But he was going to look after grandfather’s shrine, I asked grandfather to save him. He was too close to Malav and if anyone can help conceal or give him that bit of extra luck he needs to get away it would be grandfather.”

He could feel the smile on his face and watched as his hand stroked her butchered hair. “What did you give him?”

“My tools.”

Isemal’s surprise was palpable. “For a thief that is a painful thing to part with.” She nodded and he could see her eyes filling. “I could have Esus punished when he returns.”

Laughing, Charyic wiped at her tears, “No, he’s going to have to deal with me, that will be punishment enough.”

He pulled her head to his side and continued stroking her hair. “You gave your hair to Ayil?”

Charyic tentatively wrapped her arms around his waist, and he gently moved her on the bed to sit beside her, pulling her into a comforting embrace. She took a quavering breath and spoke softly. “Yes. She-I,” she took a moment as he leaned his cheek against her head. “I begged her never to make me feel that way again. She was breaking me.”

“That you could have brought to me. I don’t part with what is mine willingly. I will see you cared for.” He could feel how she squeezed him as she nodded.

“I will remember.”

“Rest now. Unlike Wyil’s, my presence is taxing.”

She yawned and squeezed him again slurring sleepily. “It’s nice though.”

He laughed softly and laid the now sleeping girl gently back, watching as she curled into her pillows.

The Holy Father sank to his knees in exhaustion. Isemal’s displeasure had evaporated but he had never been blessed with his god’s presence for such a duration, he needed to rest himself. He managed to rise and move to the cot, sinking onto it gratefully and letting sleep pull him down.