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“All around the sailmaker’s bench, the wirenth chased the keldari, the wirenth stopped to—”

“—roar!” One of the younglings clustered in a semi-circle before Zekiel puffed her chest, and then made a ‘roaring’ noise.

Zekiel, who had been singing to the beat of the nursery rhyme, smiled, warm amusement lighting his eyes and expression. He opened his mouth, lowering the picturebook open in his lap. Before he could speak, however, there was apparently more to be said.

“Wirenth don’t roar,” one of the others piped in, puffing and instantly gaining the full attention of her peer, the initial speaker.

This, of course, sparked immediate offense—at least, to whatever extent a six year old could be. “They do s—”

“Zekiel?”

Zekiel blinked, attention moving from the younglings, to the priestess now in the doorway to the room he inhabited, one of those for the youngest recruits to the Sanctum. The interruption, at least, halted the impending argument temporarily, all five pairs of glowing silver eyes looking to her as well.

“There is a guardsman in front of the outer church asking for you,” she said. “A…Jalase? You may take a moment if you know him.”

“Oh.” Zekiel hastened to nod, unfolding his crossed legs and setting the book aside before moving to slip off the bed. “I do, I—”

“Zekiiiiieeeel.” A small hand clasped at the bottom seam of his shirt cuff. “You weren’t finished with the story. What happens after they sang?”

“Oh, all sorts of many things,” Ze answered, beaming. “But I will tell you of them when I return, how would that be? I shouldn’t be a very good friend if I left a man to wait then, would I?” There was more argument, but the priestess laid down a firmer hand for the younglings, eventually getting them distracted and content enough that Ze could make his way out the door—or nearly so, before her voice stopped him.

“Zekiel.”

He glanced back.

“Might you want to put your shoes back on before traveling to the outer section?”

Ze blinked and glanced down, curling his — indeed — stockinged and otherwise unprotected toes against the smooth floorboards. A moment later, he beamed and nodded, scooting back in to step into and fasten his boots before bidding her and the younger audience farewell, and heading out to meet his visitor.

Zekiel hadn’t seen Jalase for some time. Though the guard had made a positive impression on their last occasion to meet, that was true of most people in Zekiel’s experience. But that didn’t detract from Zekiel’s interest in seeing him or hinder his memory of their time together. Jalase had been unique in his own ways, and upon seeing him, Zekiel’s smile warmed his face. He opened his hands before him.

“Jalase! You’ve made it to the house of gods,” he greeted, stepping in wasting no time in winding his hands up to catch the other around the neck and shoulders in an enthusiastic and genuine, if close, hug. He stepped back again a moment later, but his hands remained on the other man’s shoulders a moment despite the space between them when he grinned up at him. “It is wondrous to see you, and blessings be upon you for making it safely. Have the days treated you well? Might I fetch you anything?”

Zekiel was a more physical and spirited individual than most, and though on occasion he was slower than some to pick up on certain communication signals, he had learned at least that much. Thus, after Jalase’s stiffness and uncertainty, Zekiel took a step back of his own accord, folding his hands more tamely behind him, though his smile remained, no less genuine.

“I am blessed by your company and happy to hear time hasn’t given you more burdens than you can manage. As the gods would have it, you arrived at the perfect time,” he said, a touch of amusement slipping into his tone as he did because it had been marvelous timing. Almost planned. “I’m at your service and here to discuss anything you’d like,” he added, taking a step and motioning with a notch of his head that Zekiel follow. “If you walk with me I’ll fetch you some water and show you to the gardens. They’re lovely in winter, and it will be quiet with a place to sit or follow the paths if you prefer. Is your issue urgent?”

Zekiel matched Jalase’s stride, pausing when he did.

It was evident from the man’s staring that it had been some time since he’d been inside a house of worship — or at least one so large as the Sanctum — a familiar look on the occasional visitor who stepped in from either having traveled long, or long procrastinating their return to places of faith. Either way, Zekiel thought it a particularly good thing to see, new appreciation for one of the most beautiful structures crafted by their gods’ children.

When he spoke, it became clear there was far more on his mind, however. “You mentioned her,” Ze said, “last we met, I think, but not by name then. Has something happened to her? Or were you coming to inquire about her wellbeing? You know…if you told me of her, it is not unlikely I’ve encountered her before, in my studies or as a child when I was initially invited within the walls. They would often and do task prentices and acolytes with spending time with classes of younglings newly homed here.”

Zekiel watched, studying the other man’s posture as he spoke and softening his smile until Jalase finished. There, though, his eyes warmed again.

“I am sure Sister Ysella forgives you any regrettable words between you and would love to hear from you as soon as you’re able,” he said. “I haven’t spoken with her recently myself, though as it happens she was charged to direct my collection of roommates and I when I came newly to the Sanctum and later, in my early years as a prentice. She has since climbed to responsibilities outside of the sectors I find myself, but I would be happy to inquire about her whereabouts at present. Last I knew of it she still made her home here, despite traveling to the outer villages from time to time to give service.”

After making it down the halls, out of the primary wing leading to the lector room where services might be held and given to the public, they arrived at one of the exterior cafeterias. Nothing elaborate and not typically open to all comers, but available for those within the Sanctum’s service who utilized the housing there with a spouse or visiting friends. It was quick work to attain and return with a glass of water, which he held out.

“I forget,” he admitted, “but do you, too, reside in the capitol? Or is it something else which has you here for the moment.”

Zekiel blinked at Jalase’s laugh, but almost immediately after answered it with a smile of his own. “Wondrous luck,” he said, and meant it.

He wasn’t wholly surprised. While it was certainly true there were many of the Sanctum’s chosen whom he did not know personally, there were a great many more that he did know of, particularly those in similar age brackets. Sister Ysella had been a number of years his senior, perhaps even a full decade, but not outside of the range of his engagement. Still, it was good fortune that she hadn’t been among those he wouldn’t recognize the name of, and that seemed reason enough to feel blessed.

“Sister Ysella was an acolyte when the Sanctum took me in,” he said, beginning to lead the way at an unhurried pace towards the outer temple gardens. “Or a prentice near to progressing—I was very small then myself and do not know for certain. But she would monitor us, my roommates and I, Warrek, Rekal, Azlas, read to us and take us about to play in the times allotted. She was very kind, and took great pleasure in having all of our things lined the same and our sheets pulled flat.”

He spared his company a glance as they came in upon the garden’s nearest outer entrance, listening, watching, and guiding him in when they got there. It was among his favorite locations, and he smiled as they stepped in.

“Since you are near,” he said, “it should be soon and simple that you may come to see her yourself. So far as I last knew of her she still calls Pajore and this Sanctum home as I do. Some among us do move to make our homes in the other cities in time, if they are in need of it, but I will inquire for you. She is a wondrous woman, as you are a good man and blessed that the gods gave you each other as siblings, even if their will separated you these years. When the time is right for both of you I trust your reunion will better you both.”

As his eyes moved from Jalase out over the carefully cultivated and landscaped garden scape, his next question came as random as a plucked bud. “Do you work with Lieutenant Meeirn?”

Zekiel smiled, pleased that the alternate topic had at least sparked some sense of familiarity. While Jalase had of course come to speak of his sister, that topic seemed rife with uncertainties, and though Zekiel was perfectly happy to speak more of her — and would, if Jalase asked, ready to answer any questions he had — it seemed that for the moment, letting the other man pick the pace and amount that they did. If he wished to speak on her more, they would, but until then, something else which caused less unspoken tension seemed more appropriate.

“When I met with her,” he said, “she was a guardswoman at the outer wall, here in Pajore. There were concerns as to the adequacy of our protections here and several from the Sanctum were called to give protective blessings along the perimeter. She was stationed where was sent and kept after me there. A very good and…” He struggled to find the right word for her as she was in his mind, standing so tall and narrowly, her body held like a pole so stiff a flag might have been flown from her with a nose like a bird of prey, “…straight woman. I think she saw everything that occurred there and perhaps did not blink ever. It was very impressive.”