Naamah's Blessing

days leading up to the ceremony, we made a pilgrimage of the City’s temples, beginning with the Temple of Eisheth where the feisty Sister Marianne Prichard presided.
    She gave me a firm hug in welcome, unexpectedly strong for her age. “Have you come to light a candle to Eisheth, Lady Moirin?”
    “No.” I smiled. “Not yet.”
    Sister Marianne cast a dubious eye on me. “Don’t wait too long, child! How old are you now?”
    I hazarded a guess. “Twenty… one?”
    “We’ve come to give thanks and make an offering on the young princess’ behalf,” Bao interjected. “Later, perhaps, I can persuade Moirin to beseech Eisheth to open the gate of her womb.”
    The elderly priestess chuckled. “You do that, lad! Spring’s a good time, when all the world is fertile.”
    “Fat babies,” Bao reminded me. “Round as dumplings.”
    My
diadh-anam
flickered, telling me it was not time yet; and I knew Bao felt it, too. “We will see, my magpie.”
    There was a garden in the inner sanctum of Eisheth’s temple where a spring burbled through the rocks to feed a natural pool. An effigy of the goddess knelt beside it, her cupped hands extended over the healing waters. Having paid our tithes, Bao and I made our offerings, pouring incense of hyssop and cedar gum into Eisheth’s hands and kindling the incense with wax tapers.
    Fragrant smoke rose.
    The marble effigy knelt, streaked with traces of green moss, her head bowed in modesty.
    We knelt, too.
    I breathed through a cycle of the Five Styles, clearing my mind. I gave thanks to Eisheth for her gifts of healing and music, and for the kindness she had shown us in sending one of her priestesses to tend to my lady Jehanne’s daughter. I prayed that Eisheth would ever grant good health to Desirée. When we had finished, both Bao and I dipped our hands in the sacred pool and drank the healing waters with their acrid tang of minerals.
    It felt good and right.
    At the temple of martial Camael, I meditated on the battles I had seen, gave thanks for having survived them, and prayed that Desirée would ever be spared the horrors of war.
    I felt myself humble at the Temple of Shemhazai, the greatest scholar among Elua’s Companions. I thanked him for his gifts, and prayed that he would grace Desirée with wisdom.
    Bao gazed for a long time at the effigy of Azza, whose gift to the D’Angeline folk was pride and knowledge. Azza held a sextant with which to explore the world in one hand, the other raised in warning.
    “What are you thinking?” I asked Bao.
    “I am thinking that pride is a dangerous gift,” he murmured. “But betimes a necessary one.”
    I prayed that Desirée would find pride in good measure.
    At Anael’s temple, I gave thanks for the gift that the Good Steward had given me. I prayed that I might be worthy of it, whatever its ultimate purpose, and that the young princess might grow up to understand the worth of tending to the world with loving care.
    We visited the great Temple of Naamah in the City, releasing doves beneath the dome of the temple and laughing, confident in the bright lady’s love. I thanked her for the gifts, so many gifts, that she had given me; and for allowing me to serve as the vessel for her blessing.
    I prayed that Desirée would know it, too.
    And I understood Kushiel’s worship far better than I had the first time when we visited
his
temple.
    Expiation.
    The penitents who sought out Kushiel’s untender mercies had cause. I gazed at the bronze-faced effigy with his rod and flail crossed on his breast, remembering the penance that the Patriarch of Riva had laid upon me. I had not found expiation in it, but nor had I believed myself guilty of sin. Valentina, who had freed me, told me she
had
found comfort in performing penance for her own sins; and I understood that it was a gift for those in need.
    By the expression on his face, Bao was thinking similar thoughts. “I punished myself in Kurugiri,” he said somberly. “This way is better.”
    “It is,” I agreed.
    There, I prayed that Desirée would never be in need of such penance; but that if she did, she would find comfort in Kushiel’s mercy.
    Lastly, on the eve of the ceremony, we paid a visit to the great Temple of Elua.
    It was the oldest temple in the City. In the antechamber, a priest and priestess welcomed us with the kiss of greeting and accepted our tithes. A graceful acolyte knelt and removed our shoes and stockings that we might walk unshod in the presence of