Chapter 70. Rite of the Ninth Hour

nce more he strode up the stairs to Zhou’s study after a day of cleansing and preparation.  He had dined alone in his humble room and spent an inordinate amount of time soaking in a tub with far too many herbal extractions and fussing servants.  Now he was clad in a long white robe fastened about his form by three turns of a silk kirtle.  Manicured and polished, he wondered what the last of the major rites entailed that required such immense attention to his state of grooming. 

It was unlikely he would have to kill someone this time, he mused, particularly since he was unshod and unarmed.  He approached the door with a small amount of misgiving for the last three major rites had proved challenging and draining.  No doubt this one would be more of the same.  Opening it slowly, he gazed into the study, disappointed to find it as it normally was, bland and orderly.  After all the build up, he had to hide his disappointment that he would be settling his immaculate body in a chair for a long evening of meditation and writing once the clock struck nine.

Zhou smiled at him surreptitiously, rising from the couch and proffering a bow.  He did not even have the decency to wear anything even slightly ceremonial.  Pendaran sighed.  He could have spent the day with Teleri instead of making his backside numb with meditation and soaking until he smelled like an herb garden.  And now he was whining to himself and Zhou was laughing at him. 

“Are you ready, Master Pendaran?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Are you certain?  This is my final lesson.  Once this rite begins, you are no longer my student.”

Pendaran’s throat tightened at those words.  On the one hand, it was a relief, but on the other he had known peace and security while surrendering to Zhou’s guidance.

“I am ready, Master.”

“Face the door then.  You truly know nothing of this rite?”

Pendaran sighed.  Fine, rub in the fact that he had been kicked out of the academy. 

“I am completely ignorant.”

“Lucky,” Zhou clucked as Pendaran turned his back to the man and glared at the door, feeling as if he were at the butt of some enormous joke, “I’m going to blindfold you and guide you to the place that has been prepared for the rite.”

Pendaran nodded and waited patiently as Zhou gently wrapped the cloth over his eyes and knotted it at his nape.  Then, the man took his left arm and guided him forward, taking pains that Pendaran did not trip or hurt himself on the way to wherever they were bound.

“This rite is very solemn,” Zhou said beside him, but Pendaran could hear the smile in the man’s voice, “Unlike the others, it can last beyond an hour and be very taxing.  I hope you are well rested.”

“I am,” Pendaran replied, feeling irritated, “and I ate the ceremonial meal at the precise time.  I assure you, I will be able to endure for as long as is required.”

“Excellent.”

Pendaran did not bother to ask for details about the rite.  Zhou was enjoying himself far too much, in any event, and as a rule, the man was tight lipped about such things.  He smelled the humid evening air with its floral odors and knew now they were now outside and the coolness of bricks, moss and thyme were beneath his bare feet.  Where was he taking him? 

“Almost there,” Zhou said, sensing Pendaran’s rising anxiety, “I do not believe you have been to this part of the compound before.”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Pendaran said pointedly.

Zhou chuckled.  And now Pendaran smelled the resinous odor of burning incense and the jingle of a prayer wheel turned at his approach.

“Be welcome to the House of Lyssa,” said a woman’s voice, “Come in peace, seeker of truth and beauty.  Rejoice in the greatest of her mysteries.”

“Consider this my parting gift,” Zhou whispered in Pendaran’s ear, “I leave you now.  Enjoy.”

The priestess took his hands and guided him forward until he strode over carpet and cloth.

“Kneel, Pendaran,” she said softly.

She helped him to his knees, arranging his robes and placing a wreath of fragrant flowers around his neck.  Only then did the blindfold come off.  The priestess was resplendent in magenta and blue robes trimmed with gold, her visage hidden behind a mask that was split at its center to depict two faces of the goddess.  She anointed his brow with a fragrant oil, chanting softly as his eyes wandered to take in the round chamber with its high stained glass windows depicting the dual nature of the goddess of beauty. 

He was kneeling upon a thick carpet over which were scattered pillows and sheets of bright silk.  Candles burned in red glass vessels far out at the edge of the circle, marking it a sacred place. 

“Behold, the goddess in her guise as Lover,” the priestess said, her long sleeves hissing softly as she gestured toward the narrow door and bowed deeply to the white clad figure drifting toward him.  Golden hair spilled around the figure’s delicate shoulders and he blinked the tears from his eyes to gaze upon her. 

“Teleri,” he laughed, overcome with emotion as she smiled tenderly upon him, so beautiful and wise. 

“Love is the greatest gift of the goddess,” the priestess said, “Rejoice in this holiest of rites.”

The priestess bowed one more time, gracefully departing and closing the heavy door behind her so that the two of them were alone at last.  Kneeling before him, their knees brushing, Teleri smiled back at him, her own eyes glistening with emotion.  She took his hands and mischief sparkled in her gaze.

“Well?  What are you waiting for?”