Free Closer to the Chest by Mercedes Lackey

exciting. A string of people—an ambassador, several highborn who were
leaving
Haven for the summer to make way for minor members of their extended families to come hunt for marriage alliances, and the Master of the Brewers and Vintner’s Guild all turned up to exchange pleasantries, minor information too trivial for a Council Meeting, and make farewells. Kyril had always encouraged this sort of thing, as it enabled him to get to know members of his Court more personally than he would otherwise. The last of the morning was some priest or other—
    â€œHis Holiness, Theodor Kresh, High Priest of Sethor the Patriarch,” announced the servant at the door, and striding in to pause as the double doors closed behind him was the fellow himself.
    As priests went . . . he was “conservatively” dressed. His deep blue robes were of exceedingly fine material, but without ornamentation, although he did wear a heavy gold chain with an equally heavy gold medallion on it. He wore the hood of his robe back, although the four under-priests who had come with him wore theirs up. He carried a plain staff of black wood or wrought iron—it was hard for Amily to tell which—and he appeared to be of late middle age. He had hard features, deep-set eyes, and was partially bald; what there was of his hair was of a salt-and-pepper color. From the way he moved, and what could be seen of the arm that held the staff, he was in fantastic physical shape; she suspected that he could probably use that staff as a formidable weapon.
    He paid absolutely no attention to her. This went beyond mere snubbing; when the Prince introduced them all he literally did not look at her, or acknowledge her presence.
    Her father raised an eyebrow at her; she shook her headslightly. There was no point in making an issue of this, for all they knew, he had some sort of vow that kept him from even thinking about women. She’d never heard of Sethor the Patriarch—but it sounded as if this was one of those male-centric religions. Sometimes they were just fine. Sometimes they made her want to gag.
    As if he were reading her mind, the King said, politely, “We have never before heard of Sethor the Patriarch, and there has never, to my knowledge, been a Temple to this god in Haven. I assume you are the first?”
    Theodor bowed his head the slightest bit. “All this is true, your Majesty,” he said, smoothly. He had a powerful, but cold and emotionless, voice. “My Order has only recently come into your land, last Harvest, in fact, and as is our way, we came to establish our first Temple in your capitol. We are shortly to open it to the public. We have, for some several moons now, been altering the building we purchased to suit our needs, and making much-needed repairs.”
    â€œIs there some public ceremony involved with this opening at which you would like a royal presence?” Kyril asked politely.
    The Priest shook his head. “No, Majesty. We are a simple Order, and have few ceremonies. We prefer to confine our ceremonial and liturgical activities to our believers. We were fortunate to find a suitable sanctuary nearly ready to move into. The Sisters of Ardana were happy to sell us their building, and move themselves to another, more suited to their dwindling numbers. Perhaps you know the temple? As I said, it required some extensive repairs, minor alterations, and reconsecration to our purposes, but otherwise it was nearly perfect for us.”
    The King shook his head, but Amily
did
recognize that name; the Sisters of Ardana had once—as far back as
long
before Vanyel’s time—been a large enough group of female votaries to require a truly substantial building. But over time, and as the neighborhood in which the Temple stood declined,their numbers thinned and dwindled. Now they were just a handful of old women, much too frail to do the needed maintenance on their building themselves, and who