Welcome to Gaia! ::

Zekiel smiled as he watched, for Jalase did seem to recall her now, and his rendition of events seemed in line with Zekiel’s own experience. So far as he could tell, that was the way of some people: rules pleased and concerned them more than most. It was one way to look at things, certainly, though Zekiel himself had difficulty abiding by the mindset since, in his experience, rules were complicated things and different depending on who was interpreting them. Sometimes they overlapped or even contradicted one another, and it was left to the individual to simply attempt to follow—if they so chose.

In the end, after all, it was the gods who would have their way, regardless of the rules of man. “She is dedicated to her service as she sees right,” Zekiel agreed aloud. “As you are. Our city is blessed to have you.” He tipped his head towards the gardens, folding his hands behind him again. “Have you ever seen everbells grow naturally about? They are Tacrith’s favorite — a local physician here, and a friend of mine. Acolyte Fallon grows them here, too, and they are lovely in bloom.”

Zekiel glanced to his company at the question. It wasn’t something most asked about—the average citizen took the gods’ choices for what they were, for the most part—but Jalase was not everyone, and it wasn’t unheard of, among the more curious and pre-disposed to question.

“I have thought on it, I think,” he said. “When I was first visited by Sister Mortrem, I knew surely that they had made some mistake, or were only coming to see me but would not leave with me. I lived with Jevan, then, when he was home from fishing, and with Marleya to clean sails when he was away. I think if I had not come to be here I would still be there, by the shore when the sun went to sleep, repairing net or finding clam among the rocks in the shallow waters. I might have gotten a small boat…or perhaps I would have adventured to see the far shore, or found a way to do service here for the gods outside the walls of the church. Being chosen for service was a great blessing, and each of us walk only one of the many thousand paths that could have been put before us…” Zekiel studied his friend. “Do you find yourself restless on yours, or unhappy?”

“It is a wondrous opportunity,” Zekiel agreed, “and we ought to follow the path suited to us, as your parents did before you, whether or not it is a similar one.”

When Jalase spoke of the Sanctum’s policy on enlistment into the gods’ service, his expression was neutral but attentive. Though he was aware not all children came to the church as he did — some had parents eager to present them, others more reluctant but honored, and others still where the state of things was less spoken of — he had never encountered someone so outright with their objection. To Zekiel it was no more shocking to the senses or offensive than those who did not harbour faith in the gods as he did. Jalase and Tacrith both fell into that category and were among his friends.

Unusual among the people of Yael, yes. But not inherently objectionable. Whether or not they believed, that was as the gods ordained to allow and certainly not Zekiel’s prerogative to monitor. He did, however, wonder if there might not be others — particularly in church spaces as they were — who would find the words more distasteful to overhear.

“I am confident that were you blessed with children, they would live prosperously. If that meant to you that they would be raised across the sea I am sure it would be a wondrous experience…” He considered his friend. “If they were born on this soil…they would be under the eyes of the gods then, and could be chosen for service. It is a great blessing, but…if it is not one you seek, I would sooner suggest leaving the focus of their attention than fighting their will. If it is read as meant to be so…there is little to be done to withdraw from selection.”

Zekiel shook his head, smiling. “It does not upset me. Though,” he conceded gentler, “there are others on these grounds who might find such words more unpleasant than I. Your opinion will be as it is, and there is no power in you or I to change the gods’ will. So, I will leave that power to those who have it.”

He debated a moment before thinking the time right as any, and opting to touch on something that had been mentioned to him some two days prior after a service. “Another friend of mine was speaking with me the other day,” he said. “The matron mother at Pajore’s orphanage…” He eyed Jalase. “She pays weekly visits to the cathedral for service provided she has opportunity, and afterward sought my company…she expressed some concerns for a child who had formerly been under her care, but outgrew the system. A girl she had come to know for some time…she had suspicions that after the orphanage, the girl became involved with persons of suspicious and illicit activity.”

It certainly wasn’t the sort of matter often brought to Zekiel’s ears, but the matron had seemed especially concerned that bringing the matter to other more official authorities — in terms of providing for the city’s safety — would get the child into some kind of trouble she wanted to avoid.

Zekiel flushed in spite of himself. He wasn’t certain as to the exact appropriate procedure in matters such as this. It seemed important, and as though it ought to be brought to some authority, but at the same time, the matron had gone to such effort to bring it to him personally that it felt different somehow. And while Zekiel was not accustomed to others being quite so frankly cynical about the system, the man had seemed to understand his goal quicker than anticipated.

“I…yes, I would hope, perhaps,” he said. “The matron said the girl was exceptional to her in some ways and perhaps…more vulnerable and in need of oversight. Of course, if you do not think it best or would rather not, I cannot ask for more of your time than you already offer the city through your service.”

Zekiel nodded. “I have faith in your judgement in enacting your service as you see is just.” He certainly didn’t want criminals on the streets either, but it felt far out of his jurisdiction to concern himself with how that ought to be gone about. “The matron mother seems to have overheard a piece of private information on a location the girl may be without authority to enter. I suggested to her that she bring the issue to the city and they conduct an investigation…but since she seemed to hope for a smaller scale interaction, I came to you. It should be some two days from now, in the east wing office of trade. Father Karsek speaks highly of the officials there. There is a secretary in the front entrance who if you see between now and then should be able to provide you with instructions and keys for a night check.”