The world was so different, Amarok thought, than when she was a child, still bearing her face to the world and wearing her mother's Owl lineage on her helmet. The world seemed simple: the laws worked, the elders were fair and, despite teasing for her appearance, no one was ever malicious or suspected her of anything. Then she competed in the Trials. Oh, how the Trials changed everything. Winning them gave her her horns, but also her new lineage.
Amarok gazed into her bronze mirror as she slipped her thin silver dreads into blazing red glass beads and then braided her hair loosely, letting it fall over her shoulder. Then she painted her face as her lineage and position demanded; a snout at her nose, dark-rimmed eyes, furred cheeks, and fangs on her lower lip. The red paint made her irises redder and her skin paler. Amarok often wondered if her tribesmen compared her to a bloody corpse. Her crimson ceremony robes didn't help to contrast or even to mitigate the ghastly look and the bone armor peeking out from beneath them as she slipped into the robes accentuated it further, even if she was far from the only one wearing bone armor in the city. Her last piece was the mask of her lineage and proof of her victory in the Trials: a horned wolf skull. Amarok placed the mask on her face, raised herself from her pillows, pulled back the curtain of weaved straw and beads and made her way to the council chamber.
As she pulled back the straw curtain of the council chamber, the familiar wave of incense wafted into her nose. The incense was so thick it was visible in the air which was, like with many other things, as ceremony demanded. Incense was burned non-stop in the council chamber to cleanse all council members as they entered and to suffocate devious spirits that hoped to influence the proceedings. Bells on the curtain jingled as it fell behind her, inviting peaceful and lawful spirits into the chamber to bless everyone in attendance and bestow favor to those who attend in their honor.
The chamber was shaped like a cone, descending downwards towards the vent where the volcanoes heat filtered into the room and where the incense was burned. Carved into the rock were large stair-like levels where council members sat on their pillows, interrupted by aisles for actual stairs and the throne for the High Priest. Chatter and debate of present council members echoed in the cavernous chamber, topics ranging from petty small talk to business deals to imperial affairs, as well as the darker topic that was set to be addressed.
Nearly all of the hundred council members were in attendance, all wearing the masks of the lineages they represent, the collective known as a house. The larger houses —the bears, horses, owls, lions, oxen, deer, boars and others— mostly congregated near the throne due to higher rank, earned by either a houses' deeds for the empire or the size of the house itself, sometimes both. The smaller houses —the snakes, mice, scorpions, ferrets, beavers, sheep, fish and others— mostly congregated on the far-side of the throne, their rank lower but no less influential due to the sheer number of smaller houses. Each house was represented by one council member, elected by their peers to represent their interests to the council and to bring the best traits of each lineage to serve the empire for life, until retirement, or their house votes to remove them.
While descending to the pillow at the throne's side, Amarok caught the sideways glances and hushed whispers of her fellow council members. Like her, many were horned, having won the Trials themselves and thus were the greatest of their lineage. But unlike them, she represented no one. In an empire of ten million souls, she was the only Wolf of them all. As the only true neutral house, she was given the duty of being a tie-breaker vote and moderating council gatherings.
On her way down, Amarok pulled aside one of the priests. As a disciple of the faith and servant of the empire, the priest was maskless like his brothers and sisters. He cast his gaze to the floor to avoid Amarok's eyes. "Prepare the High Priest," Amarok ordered. The priest nodded and ascended the stairs and disappeared behind the curtain. Upon seeing Amarok taking her place, the council members quieted and rushed to their own. Amarok pulled aside a priestess. "Prepare the general and his guest." As the priestess left, Amarok took up the ceremonial fan and raised it high and officially began the proceedings.
"All stand for High Priest Luu'u," Amarok cried. All the council members rose from their pillows and bowed their heads. All the priests and priestesses sung hymns and rang bells to bless the gathering and to welcome the High Priest. The curtain behind the throne rose and the High Priest was escorted down the stairs by the priest. The High Priest was an incredibly old man, nearing his 96th year. Like the priests and priestesses, he wore no mask, but his position was made obvious by the tattoos he received the day he was announced High Priest. He was covered from head to toe in the sigils of all the houses of the council in all the colors of a rainbow and cloaked in silks with colors as diverse as his tattoos. With a grunt and help from the priest he managed to settle down onto the pillow of his throne.
Amarok spread the fan and waived it so all in attendance would take heed. "Do all swear, under the watchful eyes of the spirits and the High Priest, to speak truthfully and without pretense?" Amarok cried.
"We solemnly swear," the council answered in unison.
"Do all swear to put the needs of the people above the houses of the empire?"
"We solemnly swear."
"Do all swear to accept the spirits' punishment should your oaths be broken?"
"We solemnly swear."
Amarok once again raised the fan high above her head. "Then by the grace of the spirits, the High Priest and the Holy Empire, the council meeting shall begin." By her command, the rest of the council members took their seats and the priests and priestesses ended their hymns and quieted the bells. Amarok stayed standing. She considered hers as just a formality.
With a grizzly and weary voice, the High Priest spoke. "The first topic of today is the recent development of the skirmishes at the border." Amarok waived the fan across to point directly across the room. "Enter: General Kiak and Sergeant Mi'uk," Amarok commanded. As the curtain rose, all the council members turned to see the guests.
General Kiak was a tall, muscular man of very dark complexion, wearing the armor of his status and the mask of a Falcon. His cornrows were pulled back in a loose ponytail and cascaded down his back. Sergeant Mi'uk wore the standard armor of other foot soldiers and wore the mask of a Dog. She sported blond dreads which she also tied back. Underneath her armor were bandages. Both were guided by the priestess to the vent. With her own ceremonial fan, the priestess wafted the incense at the general and the sergeant. "Take of the incense and drown the demons of war. Express your grievances with pure heart," the priestess chanted. Both the general and the sergeant inhaled the incense and bowed to the High Priest. "Repeat your report," Amarok commanded. General Kiak bowed to Amarok but Sergeant Mi'uk fumbled awkwardly and eventually decided to just nod, avoiding Amarok's gaze.
"An attack occurred yesterday at the southern border town, Naji," Kiak started, "A quarter of the population is either dead or wounded and half the town was destroyed by arson. Stationed soldiers were able to fight off the invaders but with heavy casualties." Some council members groaned. "Another bandit attack," the Badger said. "Still, that is awfully bold. Bandits normally target caravans and migrants, not well-defended towns," the horned-Owl argued.
"They weren't bandits!" Mi'uk interjected. The council fell silent. Mi'uk suddenly made herself small under all the eyes of the council, all judging her rude breach of protocol. "Continue, sergeant," Amarok urged. Mi'uk was hesitant until she felt the comforting hand of her general on her shoulder which got her to straighten her back. "They wore the trappings of bandits, but they were too well trained and organized. They were too well armed for their weapons to have been stolen. And they moved with purpose; I suspect that they're actions were deliberate and planned," she said.
"That doesn't mean anything," growled the Badger.
"They were just well-armed bandits. Don't jump to conclusions," admonished the Sheep.
"Maybe. But an attack of this magnitude must be dealt with," said the horned Beaver.
"They're bandits! No matter how well armed they were this time, they're not likely to attempt a raid of this magnitude again for quite some time. Besides, we need to focus on rebuilding ruined areas of Naji and rebuilding their forces," said the horned Snake.
"Are you saying we let the bandits escape punishment for their crimes?" questioned the horned Lion.
"If we send troops to capture the bandits, the southern countries might think we're invading," warned the Tortoise.
"And by extension threaten trade treaties with those countries," added the Deer.
"What do I care for your profits!" roared the horned Lion.
The council erupted into heated debates and squabbles leaving no room for Mi'uk to interject. Kiak turned to give Amarok a smirk and rolled his eyes. Meanwhile Amarok prayed inwardly to the spirits for patience. She turned to the High Priest for orders. All he needed to do was nod for her to understand. She unfolded the fan, raised it high and snapped it closed, catching the priests and priestesses attention, and then swung it down. The priests and priestesses rang their bells in unison as loud as they could and managed to drown out the commotion until all the council members were quiet. The High Priest took a deep breath before he spoke. "Indeed, bandit attacks are regular occurrences at the borders and, while rare, have been known to raid towns when sufficiently prepared. But, such attacks have never before resulted in such deliberate bloodshed and widespread destruction. Little hound, may I ask where this fire took place?" the High Priest asked.
"At the southeast side," Mi'uk answered.
"And where are your barracks located?"
Mi'uk was slow to respond, perhaps with melancholy. "At the southeast side."
This caused another stir among the council members, though this time it happened in murmurs and side conversations.
"So the barracks were destroyed?" asked the horned Beaver.
"Likely. The fire destroy a good portion of the town," said the Tortoise.
"That's got to be a coincidence."
"Coincidence or not, losing the barracks hampers Naji's ability to defend our southern border. That issue cannot be left unaddressed."
The High Priest sat silently and collected his thoughts. Amongst the murmurs of doubts and suspicions, Mi'uk and Kiak patiently waited for the High Priest's response. Upon seeing the High Priest's determined demeanor, Amarok snapped her fan and swung it down again, prompting the bells to be rung again. Once again, the council members quieted down. "As stated, the destruction of the barracks must be addressed and aid sent to Naji. I will leave it to each individual house to decide how to send aid. General, I leave the construction of new barracks at your discretion, as I do with all military matters." Kiak bowed to the High Priest. Then the High Priest grumbled, knowing the debate to come. "I also cannot assume this was a simple act of banditry without a proper investigation; not with the destruction and loss of life of this magnitude. We shall elect an Inquisitor to investigate."
The council erupted into chaos, everyone nominating someone they owed favors to or themselves to gain prestige for their houses. Once someone was nominated, they promptly refused and then were accused of neglecting their duties. That, or the volunteers were challenged as a conflict of interest due to previous votes or of allegations impure bias. Debates went on and on and they were going nowhere. The High Priest grumbled in exacerbation. Amarok was once again going to prompt the priests and priestesses when she was interrupted. "I nominate the horned Wolf!" Kiak cried. This nomination stunned the council into silence. For a moment, the only sound in the entire chamber was the burning of the incense.
The horned Tiger was the first to break the silence, "For what reason would you nominate a Wolf?!"
"Indeed, a Wolf of all people," added the Sheep.
"She has no ties to foreign powers and no biases in how the situation should be dealt with," Kiak argued. "She is a truly neutral party in this matter."
The horned Lion bolted to his feet, startling the council members around him. "So we promote a Wolf to Inquisitor? That's blasphemous!"
"And pointless. No one would trust a Wolf enough to speak to them," said the horned Snake.
"You forget, with the authority of an Inquisitor, the horned Wolf will be able to legally demand answers. Anyone who refuses to speak can be punished," Kiak defended.
"The Wolf could also legally kill and conscript on a whim and without care. Is that the kind of fate you wish to bestow upon our people?" the horned Owl argued.
"Is that the destiny you think the horned Wolf will choose? You think she will choose to be a tyrant?" Kiak questioned, his eyes sharpening.
"It's one of the many destinies it could choose," the horned Lion growled, "As is abandoning its duties and the Holy Empire."
"You act as if I would be missed, Lion?" Amarok teased, "I'm touched." The chamber fell silent again. The council members glanced at each other in discomfort, second-hand pain at the Wolf's bite. And that she answered the proud horned Lion with such sarcasm. The whole room could practically hear him grinding his teeth.
"You wouldn't be missed. And I take issue with the relationship between you and your nominator. I suspect you're getting preferential treatment because of your marriage," he growled.
"Then why did you support the Scorpion's nomination of his husband when we decided who would be the new head of law enforcement? Marital relationship didn't concern you then."
The horned Lion struggled to find words.
"Now, if you have any credible information as to why my nomination would be inappropriate, share them now." Amarok said, her tone hardening. "If anyone would like to share them, I suggest they do so now," she challenged the chamber, never taking her eyes off the horned Lion.
The council members shifted uncomfortably on their pillows and the horned Lion clenched his fists and sat back down. The uncomfortable silence continued until the High Priest made the announcement. "With the absence of other nominees, I move to appoint the horned Wolf as Inquisitor for this investigation. Are there any objections?" The council answered with silence. The High Priest grunted with contentment. "Then I hereby anoint the horned Wolf as Inquisitor," he declared. Some council members grumbled and others silently voiced their displeasure with their neighbors. Kiak looked to Amarok trying to read her eyes, unable to read her as she was now. She was as poised and collected as she always was during council affairs. Mi'uk stared wide-eyed at her general in shock. When Kiak noticed and turned to look at her she dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the eye. "And I hereby declare the first topic of today's council meeting adjourned until further developments have been brought to the council," the High Priest ended.
Amarok gestured to the priestess who had escorted the general and the sergeant and the priestess proceeded to escort them out. "Thank you for your service, General Kiak. Thank you for your service, Sergeant Mi'uk. We wish you good fortunes and bid you farewell," Amarok said as she bowed to the general and the sergeant. Kiak bowed back, but Mi'uk climbed out of the council chamber with haste making the priestess fret. Amarok dismissed Mi'uk's second breach of protocol with a wave of her hand and left the priestess with only one guest to escort without worry of reprimand and she made plans to intercept council members who were likely to try.
With the first and most stressful topic of the day addressed, the High Priest sighed with both relief and dread. As stressful as the topic of the attack on Naji was, it was also the most exciting topic in what felt like an eternity for the old man. He shared a brief glance with Amarok, who returned the glance with a commanding glare, and then cleared his throat, silencing the murmurs in the chamber, "The complaints of unfair taxation from members of the smaller houses is next on the list." Even god-like effort could not stop council members from groaning.
#
The usual aches and pains radiated throughout Amarok's back, feet, and shoulders, forcing her to moan and groan on her way back to her room. The tax debate lasted for hours, as was the case for similar discussions. Though, discussion is perhaps too generous a word. Amarok and the priests and priestesses had to quiet the chamber a whole two dozen times for merely going off track. The detours included petty grudges and rivalries between individual houses as well as between the smaller and larger houses in general. The High Priest had to once again put the matter on hold. After the tax debate, the Treasurer and head of the financial sector, Kisura, a horned crab, expressed her concerns regarding the straining treasury and requested a more frugal budget plan for the coming year. She also quite plainly threatened to use her authority to collect on the growing debts of individual council members, the Bull (or horned Cow), horned Boar, Horse and the horned Lion in particular as well as the debts of the houses, ahead of schedule and to reduce the salaries of the council members to compensate if the budget remained the same. Amarok giggled to herself remembering the orgy of appeals and beseachings and bargaining as she brushed aside the thick curtain to her room.
"Interesting day?" She found Kiak cross-legged in his casual robes on her sleeping mat, snooping through her papers with a lit candle on her nightstand. "That's one way to put it. Thanks to you," Amarok responded flatly and yanked her papers from his fingers. Kiak smirked wryly at her. "Please, I can't have been the highlight of your day. What got my heart to laugh?" Kiak asked. Amarok huffed and made herself comfortable at her desk. "Two words: the Treasurer," she answered, smirking as she remembered the spectacle. Kiak did not hide his amusement. In fact, he chortled with abundance. Amarok breathed in his laughter as if it were a breeze of fresh air and found the strength to continue with her duties of the day. She stashed her reclaimed papers into the basket beside her desk and retrieved fresh parchment from her desk drawer then lit a candle at her desk. She dipped her fingers into her bowl of cleansing water and pressed a wet finger to her forehead then washed her hands and whispered her prayer for clear judgment."Let me guess," Kiak managed to get out between his fits, "she was 'crabby' about the budget." A snort interrupted her prayer and she flicked the cleansing water at Kiak in revenge. "Don't be rude," Amarok giggled. As bad and disrespectful as his pun was, he was on the mark as usual. The Treasurer was a stern woman and none of the bargains, appeals or attempts at flattery could pierce her shell or crack her Crab mask. "We eventually settled on halting plans to expand the theater and the arena and limit road repairs to the worst of them. And the Scorpion scared the richest houses into paying at least half their debt by the end of this year. And the more frivolous council members were 'encouraged' to pay off their debts in full in the same allotted time," Amarok described the events of her day as she continued with her official duties at her desk while Kiak made himself comfortable on her sleeping mat and listened intently to her and the her quil dancing across her parchment.
"And of course the tax debate went nowhere again. If we could figure that out it might help with the budget.
"Then I had to placate some of the council members when they tried reprimanding Sergeant Mi'uk and the priestess, which they then took out on me for allowing such behavior from a guest —you're welcome, by the way— and I had to remind them that concerns regarding temple staff were to be brought to the High Priest or his attendants. That shut them up real fast. Can't blame them, really. The High Priest doesn't take temple affairs as seriously as he should sometimes.
"Then I had to deal with the horned Lion again. That man is dancing dangerously close to arrogance; he claimed that if I wasn't the High Priest's 'favorite' —that was how he put it— he would have likely been elected Inquisitor. It was he who was willing to risk war with the southern countries. Thankfully, most of the other houses argued against his nomination or I would have."
She huffed and took a moment to try and stretch and wriggle out some of her aches. "And thanks to you, I have to prepare for my absence: I have to make sure incense and candle stores are stocked, appoint a suitable replacement, refill the larder and wine cellars…"
Kiak crawled off the bed mat and knelt behind Amarok.
"Help the priests and priestesses bless the new water barrels, help the council scribe plan for future council meetings, not to mention plan for my own ceremony for me to officially become Inquisitor."
She was going to continue when she felt Kiak's hands on her hips, his thumbs massaging her lower back. She couldn't help but feel relief and leaned into him. Kiak knew that was her permission to rest his chin on her shoulder and he didn't hesitate accepting it. "This place would fall apart without you. It's amazing how anything got done before you got here," he mused. He slipped her outer robes off her shoulders and dug his knuckles in between her shoulder blades. She leaned forward over her desk so that he could dig deeper. "I'm sorry I put this on you. But please trust me when I say I couldn't trust anyone the way I trust you with this." He moved to her shoulders, prompting soft sighs to escape Amarok. "I trust you," she told him. A warm smile spread across Kiak's face. "Thank you, my heart."
He glanced out her window and saw the moon rising higher into the sky. "It's late, and you're exhausted. Your preparations can wait until tomorrow. And you'll have the temple staff to help you in the morning," Kiak urged. He watched Amarok as she pondered, tapping her fingernail against her desk. He took off his mask then removed hers and set both masks aside. Then he unbraided her hair and slipped the beads off her dreads, placing them one by one on her desk. "Please, Lila." If there was one thing that almost always got her to come around, it was using her face-name, the name only known and used by close loved-ones. Amarok slumped her shoulders, a sign she accepted his pleas. She turned to look at him. Fifteen years have passed and she still got lost in those amber eyes, still admiring his sharp features. He took her hand in his. "Go to bed," he pleaded.
Amarok laughed in disbelief and playfully slapped his hand away. "You put your hands all over me, play with my hair, use my face-name, and you expect me to just 'go to bed'?" Kiak's brief surprise was quickly replaced with mischief and he couldn't help but grin, his giddiness wrinkling his eyes. He grasped her thighs and pulled her closer to him. "Is it the general and the recruit or should we do the inquisitor and the general now?" he teased. Amarok exaggerated her exhaustion, slumping into his lap. "Whatever lets me lay down," she moaned, a smile on her lips. Both husband and wife giggled as they crawled onto her sleeping mat. Amarok wrapped her legs around Kiak while he removed the rest of her robes and her bone armor and kissed her neck. Kiak's kisses traveled down as more of her skin became exposed. First to her collar bone, then to her chest, then to her belly, and then, finally, between her legs. Amarok wriggled in pleasure in a sea of her robes, not thinking twice, as she once did, in revealing her pleasure to her husband as he did for her. Kiak groaned when he felt the warmth of the inside of her thighs on his cheeks and embraced her legs so that the warmth could stay, even if for just a moment more.
In his heart he felt the tinge of guilt slowly melting away. He had thrust more responsibilities on his wife and, even though he knew she was more than capable of handling them, he'd done so with no prior warning and without her consent. If taking some of the edge off in any way helped, he'd more than happily oblige. This was also, he thought as he made use of his tongue, far from the worst item on the list of reparations that she will demand when the sun rises, so he decided to enjoy it while it lasted.
It was also longing that made the pair ignite their own temptations. He had only just arrived on what was supposed to be a year long campaign to inspect the borders. He had to return two months before winter to report to the council and leave the lieutenants who accompanied him to complete the journey. Now that Amarok was to become Inquisitor and would leave in a matter of days for her investigation, their love-making was also about making the most of their time together. And make the most of it they did.
After some time nestled between her thighs and Amarok's moans and sighs roused them both, Kiak ripped his clothing off and Amarok took pleasure in watching him undress, caressing his skin with her feet. After dropping the last of his armor to the floor, he hugged her legs close to him. He watched her squirm in delight as he tickled her feet and calves with his lips and slowly glided the tips of his fingernails from behind her knees to her bottom. With firm and gentle hands, he pulled Amarok ever closer to him until he melded his body to hers.
The shadows of the two lovers danced on the walls to hymns of moans and soft sighs with the blessing of the moon and stars that watched over them and the candles that illuminated the couple so they could see each other's beauty. The lovers danced until the moon could no longer see them and the candles dimmed until they could burn no more. With their temptations satiated and their desire exhausted, Amarok and Kiak fell asleep in each other's arms.
#
The temple staff scurried throughout the temple in a frenzy, more than the usual mornings after council meetings. So many preparations to be completed in such a short amount of time. Followed by a parade of priests and priestesses that were spared the duties of running council members' messages to their houses, Amarok assigned them their tasks. Priests were sent with coins to buy more incense and candles, three priests and three priestesses were ordered to help prepare the council chamber for the inquisitor ceremony, and a group of three to prepare the water barrels for blessing. The priest that followed closely behind her was the scribe, an olive skinned middle-aged man. He scribbled madly on his parchment board as he tried to keep up with Amarok's orders while she flew through the temple halls to the High Priest's living quarters: "Of course the tax problem needs to be addressed again. Speaking of which, the Treasurer will need regular updates on the progress of the debt collections. And be sure to remind our frivolous peers of the agreement while I'm away. If you need any help with that, get the Treasurer, or at least threaten to. The general is on task figuring out the logistics of rebuilding Naji's military branch so make sure to deliver his results and have him report his progress at the next council meeting. Do you have that list of candidates for my replacement?" The scribe hurriedly fumbled with the stack of papers, dropping the pile to the floor and spilling ink out of the inkwell. What followed was nothing short of a small disaster; papers scattered all over the hallway floor and ink stained his feet and ruined his fresh lists and notes.
"My deepest apologies, counselor. I'm so sorry! Please forgive me," he stuttered, falling to his knees and desperately tried to clean up the mess. Amarok joined him on the floor and placed a soft hand on the scribe's shoulder. "I'm the one who's sorry," she apologized and began helping the scribe with the mess. "I should have noticed that I was going too fast." She willingly waded her feet into the puddles of ink and hugged the stained papers close to her. She made a mental note to give her robes to the laundry staff as soon as she could. When she tried to give the scribe a comforting smile, he averted his gaze like the many others before him and apologized again. Amarok bit the inside of her cheek and stood up. She had to control herself to keep from shoving the stack of papers into the scribe. With his gaze still averted, the scribe handed over the list that Amarok had asked for and traded it for the stack of papers Amarok had collected. With her list in hand she returned to her previous pace. The scribe was about to follow when Amarok raised her hand to stop him. "Refresh your notes," she commanded, sounding stern and not sparing the scribe another look.
Walking briskly down the temple hallways and studying the list of candidates was a manageable task for Amarok as her peculiar situation made most people keep her at arms-length and her robes made her easily noticeable among the pure white gowns of the temple staff. She went down the list of names that could replace her: higher members of the temple staff, council members, public officials, and even community leaders of the general public. Amarok mentally crossed out all of the council member names immediately and grumbled to herself. The rest she considered carefully and debated with herself whether they met all the criteria: being familiar with council etiquette and rules of debate, an understanding of how and when to intervene in discussion, familiar with the High Priest's mannerisms and expectations, either no prior dealings with council members or a record of any dealings not influencing decision-making, no prior responsibilities that would negatively impact new responsibilities of being the council moderator, and, of course, no conflict of interest that would dictate the direction and flow of council debates and temple management. Amarok crumpled the list and groaned. She debated with herself whether her standards were too high or that the scribe couldn't appropriately determine qualified candidates to save his life.
She welcomed the moment when the archway to the High Priest's sanctum guarded by his personal attendants came into view. She had been summoned by the High Priest to iron out the specifics of what he expected of the investigation, and as was custom of any who were summoned to the High Priest's sanctum, his personal attendants were there not only to guard the entrance, but also to receive the guests.
The High Priest's personal attendants were also unofficially known as his Right and Left hands. Because of his position and the need to maintain his divine purity, he couldn't speak directly to people whose motives were outside temple affairs and his access to areas outside the temple were strictly regulated and monitored. To work around this, the personal attendants were used as messengers for communication outside the sanctity of the council chamber to council members or public officials and to care for his personal matters should they fall outside of temple grounds. Both attendants wore masks unlike the priests and priestesses, but unlike the council members and the general populace, their masks bore the resemblance of the High Priest as they were considered extensions of his being.
"Horned Wolf," the Right Hand acknowledged her presence, "please follow me." The Right Hand pulled aside the curtain and Amarok followed him close behind as they both entered the sanctum with the Left Hand in turn following her.
The High Priest's sanctum was actually a series of rooms, the first of which contained a pool and, like the council chamber, was choked with incense. The Left Hand relieved Amarok of the crumpled paper and the Right Hand helped her remove her robes. When she was unmasked and fully unclothed she waded into the pool. She watched as her body paint faded into the water and swirled around her. The Right Hand began to chant and washed away her impurities with blessed oils and perfumes. While she was bathed, the Left Hand uncrumpled her paper and she heard him chuckle. "Search for your replacement not going well?"
"That obvious?" Amarok grumbled as she did her own gestures to pray for purity and spiritual cleansing.
"You know, a moderator was never needed until you strolled in," he said, coloring his speech with amusement.
Before her, there was no such thing as a council moderator. Frustrated with the free-for-all nature of past council meetings —lacking structure, rules, and efficiency— and determined to better serve the Holy Empire and be more than another butt on a pillow, Amarok suggested creating the position to the High Priest himself who then brought it to debate in the council. The role was obviously thought of as a joke as the council had nominated and appointed her. But throughout her fifteen years as moderator, she had made the position a necessity to council staff, even if few would ever willingly give up their ability to vote and fewer still saw the position as anything other than a downgrade. But very few would deny that Amarok gave the position prestige due to her work and some even bristle at the fact that a Wolf has such proximity to the High Priest, the horned Lion proving to be one of them.
When her cleansing was done, the Left Hand gave her new robes of white silk. Amarok dressed herself and the three of them proceeded to the next room. The only thing in the room was a pedestal in the center with a bronze bowl with red paint. The Right Hand dipped his finger into the bowl and pressed it against the center of Amarok's forehead. The Right Hand made the blessing of insight and Amarok inwardly prayed for wisdom while he did so.
The last room was cordoned into three sections. The middle room was a parlour where visitors met with the High Priest. To the left was the High Priest's personal quarters and to the right was the High Priest's personal shrine where he performed private ceremonies. Only the High Priest and his attendants were allowed in the later areas. Amarok knelt on a seating pillow while the Right Hand left to the living quarters to escort the High Priest, leaving Amarok alone with the Left Hand and her thoughts.
Suddenly, an idea came to her. "Why don't you or the Right be the moderator?" Amarok asked. The Left Hand stroked his jaw underneath his mask. "Now that's an idea," he mused.
The Right Hand re-entered the room supporting the High Priest and helped him onto his own pillow across from Amarok. She fidgeted as she listened to the High Priest wheeze and try to catch his breath and she noticed the Right Hand staying close to the High Priest, closer than what most people would call normal. With a deep breath and a smile, the High Priest broke the silence. "So, how was your night with your husband?" The tension left her body and Amarok just barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. "He knows he's in trouble," she answered. The High Priest chuckled "So he is, so he is." Then his expression fell. "I'm sorry for putting this weight on your shoulders."
"If I didn't think I could handle it, I would have refused," Amarok reassured him.
The High Priest smiled and then turned serious. "As I alluded to before, I cannot allow such suspicious circumstances to go unchecked. Your investigation will begin in Naji. If there is a motive, you will find it. If there are traitors to the Empire, you will take them into custody. If this is a coincidence, then make sure such coincidences never happen again." Then his expression fell. "No doubt you will face suspicions from our own citizens considering your heritage, baseless as they are. I know I don't need to remind you to conduct yourself with grace."
Amarok nodded, already completely aware of the reality of what she would encounter. The High Priest smiled again, "I know I can trust you, Amarok. But, please, also make sure you are respected as the Inquisitor, and as a person."
"I will," she said, nodding, prompting the High Priest to nod in return. Then he crossed his arms and grumbled in frustration. "I suppose I'll have to deal with the rowdiness of past councils again during your absence. I'm too old for such rubbish," he groaned.
"Actually," Amarok interjected, "The Left and I were beginning to ponder whether he or the Right filling in for me before you came in." The Right Hand stared at Amarok and the Left, his mask hiding any clues of his reaction. In comparison, the High Priest's eyes twinkled and he lazily leaned back in euphoria. He unwittingly repeated, "Now that's an idea," which got the Left to puff out his chest and Amarok noticed that for a split second the Left stood on his tippy-toes. The Right, Amarok surmised, seemed a bit conflicted. "Is that even possible?" the Right asked.
"We are technically extensions of the High Priest. No one would argue that we couldn't represent his will. And we have no houses to represent," the Left stated.
"But we do represent the High Priest. To be a moderator is to be completely neutral," the Right argued.
"As far as neutral parties go, who's better than us?" the Left asked. The Right looked to Amarok in response. "Besides her, obviously," the Left groaned. "If I may add," Amarok started, gaining the attention of her hosts, "you also have no dealings with council members or political groups. You know council etiquette. And the High Priest has had a life-long neutral stance so, by extension, your stance in neutral as well."
The Right put his hands on his hips and turned his gaze downward to think. The High Priest stroked his chin, looking pensive. As Amarok was the first council moderator, rules regarding who should replace her in her absence were non-existent and the limits regarding the High Priest's personal attendants' roles have never been tested. "It could work," the High Priest said and gave the Right an optimistic smirk, "and it's high time I had some fun throwing my weight around," he laughed heartily. Then he started to cough again, each hack more violent than the last and every wheeze in between fits was clawing for air.
The Right fell to his side and the Left dashed into the personal quarters. Within the bounds of laws and traditions, Amarok was helpless to aid the High Priest: she could not touch him due to being the opposite sex. All she could do was pray and worry. And grind her teeth.
The Left flew out of the personal quarters and to the High Priest's side with a wooden bowl filled with a strong, mint-like smelling salve and with one finger he scooped the gel and rubbed it just below the High Priest's nose. It took a long agonizing minute for the fits to calm. While the High Priest caught his breath, the Right, the Left, and Amarok silently agreed that they were treating symptoms of the inevitable.
The High Priest let out a few more deliberate coughs and breathed deeply, the smell of the minty herb filling his lungs, and felt his innards relax. Though he seemed to be feeling better, his face was still pale. "Right," he called. The Right straightened in attention. With a rare commanding tone the High Priest decreed, "From the completion of the Inquisitor ceremony to the end of her term, you will serve as the council moderator." The Right got on both knees and bowed to the High Priest. The temple bells signaled the end of the morning hours and the finality of the meeting.
#
The temple staff chimed their bells in a strict tempo commanding Amarok's pace to the center of the council chamber. The room would normally bustle on occasions like the anointment of an Inquisitor, but all of the council members were absent. The only people present were who were mandatory for the progression: the priests and priestesses at their usual posts, the High Priest and his attendants at the central vent, and the scribe who recorded the ceremony. The only guest in attendance was Kiak, dressed in his formal robes and the appropriate paints, taking advantage of the front row seat with a proud toothy smile.
Per his wife's conditions for him to attend, all the work that couldn't be postponed had been done; some tasks were even ahead of schedule thanks to Mi'uk offering to help with the load. She had been very helpful, he thought with a hint of sympathy.
In her council robes and iridescent ceremonial paint, Amarok sparkled with the spirits' blessings and approached the High Priest. The Right and Left Hands grasped each of the High Priests' palms. "Spirits!" the High Priest cried out. The bells submit to his authority. "A shadow has cast itself upon our home. To drive out the enemy that prowls within, we anoint Amarok, descendant of the Wolf, daughter of the descendant of the Owl, wife to the descendant of the Falcon, council moderator, loyal council member and one of my most trusted confidants, the title of Inquisitor. Gift her heart with a scale of justice. Shake the ground as she passes. Make her presence known. Open her mind so she may interpret all." The High Priest looked into Amarok's eyes. "Will you accept these gifts?" he asked.
"I will," she replied.
"Do you swear to use these gifts with grace and humility?"
"I swear."
"Do you swear not to abandon your duty and leave this shadow to fester?"
"I swear."
"And do you swear to step down as Inquisitor once your duty is done?"
"I swear."
The Right and Left Hands grasped Amarok's palms and bowed their heads. The High Priest, the Left and the Right spoke perfect in unison, "Then by the power vested in me, I anoint Amarok as Inquisitor. May her mind see clearly and her heart know the truth." The bells of the council chamber rang three final times and announced the end of the ceremony.