The Rithmatist

remember my inception?”
    “Hum, let me see,” the aged man said. “How old are you, again, Joel?”
    “Sixteen,” Joel said. “But I wasn’t incepted during the usual ceremony. I…”
    “Ah yes,” Stewart said. “Your father. I remember now, son. I performed your inception myself.”
    “Yes, well…” Joel said. It didn’t feel right to outright accuse the aged priest of having done it wrong.
    To the sides, other people were lining up—there were always those who wanted to speak to Father Stewart after the sermon. Candles burned atop candelabra near the altar, flickering in the wind of opening doors, and footsteps echoed in the great hall of the building. Beyond the altar, at the back of the cathedral, sat the chamber of inception, a small stone room with doors on either end.
    Melody nudged him.
    “Father,” Joel said, “I … don’t want to be disrespectful, but I’m bothered by my inception. I didn’t go into the chamber.”
    “Ah yes, child,” Stewart said. “I can understand your worry, but you needn’t fear for your salvation. There are places all over the world where the church isn’t prominent enough to warrant a full cathedral, and they have no rooms of inception there. Those people are just as well off as we are.”
    “But they can’t become Rithmatists,” Joel said.
    “Well, no,” Stewart said.
    “I didn’t have a chance,” Joel said. “To become one, then. A Rithmatist.”
    “You did have a chance, son,” Stewart said. “You simply were unable to take it. Child, too many people dwell on this issue. The Master accepts both Rithmatists and non-; all are the same to him. To be a Rithmatist is to be chosen for service—it is not meant to make a man powerful or self-centered. To seek after such things is a sin that, I fear, too many of us ignore.”
    Joel blushed. Stewart seemed to consider the conversation over, and he smiled warmly at Joel, laying a hand on his shoulder and blessing him. The priest then turned toward the next patron.
    “Father,” Joel said, “I want to take part in the inception this week.”
    Father Stewart started, turning back. “Son, you’re far too old!”
    “I—”
    “That doesn’t matter,” Melody said quickly, cutting Joel off. “A man can be incepted at any age. Isn’t that true? It mentions so in the Book of Common Prayer.”
    “Well,” Stewart said, “that usually refers to people who convert to our Master’s gospel after the age of eight.”
    “But it could refer to Joel,” she said.
    “He’s already been incepted!”
    “He didn’t get to go through the chamber,” Melody said stubbornly. “Don’t you know about the case of Roy Stephens? He was allowed to be incepted during his ninth year since he was sick the Fourth of July.”
    “That happened all the way up in Maineford,” Stewart said. “A completely different archdiocese! They do some odd things there. There’s no reason to incept Joel again.”
    “Except to give him a chance to be a Rithmatist,” Melody said.
    Father Stewart sighed, shaking his head. “You seem to have studied the words well, child, but you don’t understand the meanings. Trust me; I know what is best.”
    “Oh?” Melody said, voice rising as he turned away again. “And why don’t you tell Joel why it really is that you didn’t let him into the chamber of inception eight years ago? Perhaps because the north wall was being worked on due to water damage?”
    “Melody,” Joel said, taking her arm as she grew belligerent.
    “What if the Master wanted Joel to be a Rithmatist?” she continued. “Did you consider that when you denied him the opportunity? All because you were renovating your cathedral? Is a boy’s soul and future worth that?”
    Joel grew more and more embarrassed as Melody’s voice rang through the normally solemn chamber. He tried to hush her, but she ignored him.
    “I, for one,” Melody said very loudly, “think this is a tragedy ! We should be eager to encourage a person who wants to be a Rithmatist! Will the church side with those who are turning against us? Won’t its priests encourage a boy who seeks to do the will of the Master? What’s really going on, Vicar?”
    “All right, hush, child,” Father Stewart said, holding his forehead. “Enough yelling.”
    “Will you let Joel be incepted?” she asked.
    “If it will shut you up,” Father Stewart said, “then I will seek permission from the bishop. If he allows it, Joel can be incepted again. Will