Chapter 4: Echelon

Echelon

 

Even after a week in her new role, Callie could hardly get used to the feeling of standing before the assembled Imperium. It seemed almost a requirement of theirs that she never see them all at once unless they were seated in their thrones, voices echoing through the darkened, cathedral-like hall. Each time, it took Callie’s eyes far too long to adjust to the brightness of standing on the illuminated platform before them. 

 

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, hal Devotia,” Magister Krann begins. He was in the middle of age on the council, not the youngest, nor the oldest. And yet Krann appeared to be the head of the council, always the primary facilitator. 

 

“Of course, Magister Krann,” she returns the greeting. Not like I really have a choice, she grumbles internally. “It is always an honor to be gathered here.” 

 

“How are you adjusting to the role?” The Magister seated to Krann’s right asked. He was a short and stout man, with a full beard and bushy eyebrows. His hair dropped down in a braid accented with gold jewelry, complimenting his red beard. 

 

“I am adjusting well,” she replies, trying to recall his name. It comes to her after a second: Markin. The room is silent, as though awaiting a greater explanation. She stifles an exasperated sigh and adds, “There’s so much to learn, and it’s a lot to get used to. Magister Velena’s guidance has been greatly appreciated.” 

 

Velena smiles, appreciative, extending a courteous nod in Callie’s direction. 

 

“Is it true you have only bestowed two blessings thus far?” A nasally voice croaks from the throne to the farthest left; the oldest member of the Imperium, Magister Xannar. “That is remarkably few,” he grumbles. 

 

“It has been a while since a newcomer has been anointed as Devotia, Magister Xamner,” Velena chirps up in Callies defense. “Before your lifetime even. I think it wise for us to refrain from holding our newest Devotia to the standards of her predecessors.” 

 

Callie exchanges a grateful look with Velena. “I have been focusing on my studies,” she tells the old Magister innocently. It’s not a lie, but it certainly isn’t the full truth. Only her mornings were spent in study. Most afternoons she spent pining for the Knight-Commander and absent-mindedly wondering if everyone was lying when they said Suul spoke to them. 

 

Xamner huffs in his seat, crossing his long and frail arms tightly over his chest. The Magisters were supposed to show more respect to her than this, and Callie knew they only let it slide because of his seniority.

 

Callie had indeed been learning a lot. It was a tremendous amount of information all at once, trying to grasp the history of the role and what her duties actually were. It was difficult because Devotia’s obligations changed so frequently; a Devotia during wartime would mostly be administering blessings to knights and smiths and anyone involved in keeping the city safe, while a Devotia during peace might meet mostly with laborers and artists. 

 

Velena has been gently pushing her to meet with a shortlist of important leaders across the city to build out her knowledge of its needs, including heads of guilds and the farmers union and the prime architect and headmaster of the mages college and members of the nobility. It was exhausting, learning so many new names and faces and trying to manage their expectations about what she might be to them. None of them had left with blessings. As annoyed as she was about it, it was still difficult to conceive of what a non-sexual act of devotion to her might look like. And as for those blessings… she spent most nights dreaming about performing them with Calvin. 

 

“Studies or not,” the Magister between Velena and Xamner speaks up - a soft spoken man with coily braids named Beleveir, “we believe it is time for you to become a more public figure. It’s been a week. Solva would like to finally meet its new Devotia.” 

 

Callie had been afraid they’d ask her that. While she was finally beginning to embrace the new role, mostly just for the novelty of comfort and safety that came with it, the idea of being a face everyone recognized was… unsettling. 

 

“I’m not sure that I am ready for that level of-,” 

 

“You must be,” Xamner gripes. “It is of the utmost importance that Suul’s chosen is-,” 

 

“I do believe interrupting our Devotia is quite improper,” Velena’s voice cuts, “Magister Xamner.”

 

 Xamner huffs, but remains silent as the room fills with tension. When it becomes clear he will not speak again, Velena adds, “We thank you for your decorum.” He shoots a dirty look in her direction, which Velena ignores. “Do continue, hal Devotia.” 

 

“Like I said, I don’t think I’m ready to be a public face,” Callie’s face is knitted with worry. “I’m still busy familiarizing myself with the core tenets of who Suul is, much less what her will is.” And I’m not ready for the public to gawk at having a threaded Devotia either, she adds internally. 

 

“Suul speaks to you, does she not?” The final Magister speaks up, seated at the farthest right. She’s a tall woman with sharp features and long black hair, but despite the fact her face was often chiseled with a scowl, she was surprisingly kind. Velena was still the Magister Callie trusted most, but Magister Hamada had earned her respect. “Suul’s voice should be more than enough to guide you through these rites.” 

 

Callie bites her lip softly, staring at the floor and feeling the Imperium’s eyes fixated upon her. She wants to find some excuse, but suspects there’s no way to make the silence from Suul any less worrisome for them.

 

“I… I haven’t heard from Her yet,” she whispers quietly, and the hall falls eerily silent. 

 

Krann takes a deep breath, clearly feeling the concerns of the rest of the council. “That is… unfortunate, hal Devotia. We are sorry to hear you have not been gifted with the Great Sun’s voice just yet.” 

 

“As I have been saying-,” Xamner begins, but a sharp shush from Velena quiets him again. 

 

“The Devotia has confided this with me prior to this hearing,” Velena says, and Callie tries to hide her surprise. She hadn’t told anyone that yet, other than Calvin a few days ago, and couldn’t fathom why the Magister had braved a lie in front of the entire Imperium. “And we have come up with a solution to support her training.” 

 

“We have,” Callie adds quickly, locking eyes with Velena. She can’t read the Magister’s impression, but tries to give her a look that says, Please don’t make this a mistake. “We have,” she confirms again. 

 

“Earlier this morning, I summoned Tulla’s Devotia to Solva. She has been a vital figure to their city, and would be an excellent mentor for our own Devotia.” 

 

Callie does her best to temper the surprise she feels, hoping it doesn’t reach her face. Velena had mentioned there were other Devotia, often in large cities across the nation, but Callie hadn’t ever expected to see them. Part of her assumed they were all effectively bound to remain in their cities forever. From what she could remember, Tulla was one of the largest cities apart from Solva itself.  

 

“Devotia Junivere will arrive by nightfall, Suul willing, and she will accompany hal Devotia in her lessons as needed,” Velena concludes. 

 

“An excellent idea, Magister Velena,” Markin’s head bobs up and down in a nod. 

 

“Is the rest of the council in agreement?” Magister Krann turns to face the rest of the assembled mages, hearing them sound out in confirmation. Xamner waits for a long moment, but begrudgingly offers his support. 

 

“We thank you for your time, hal Devotia,” Krann concludes. The council stands from their seats, once again bowing one-by-one as they leave. Callie ignores the piercing gaze of Xamner as he leaves, and is grateful that Velena is the last to approach her. 

 

“We didn’t-,” Callie begins, but Velena holds up a finger to her lips, gesturing for them to walk down the hallway towards the Devotia’s villa. Callie bits her tongue and follows her into a quiet corner of the plaza, shaded by the branches of short, flowering trees. 

 

“I didn’t tell you that Suul hasn’t spoken to me,” Callie complains. 

 

“I know you didn’t,” Velena grumbles, “And if you weren’t Devotia I’d be furious with you right now. If I am to help you through this, I need to know things like that.” 

 

“I didn’t know it wasn’t normal!” Callie hisses, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible. “In case you haven’t forgotten, I have no clue what I’m doing!” 

 

Velena takes her hands, steadying her. “I know, I know. It’s going to be okay.” 

 

“You don’t know that,” Callie can feel her voice drip with worry, “everyone here is expecting so much from me, and I can’t handle that pressure. Keeping a low profile, not looking people in the eyes, fading into the background - that’s what I’m good at!” 

 

“I know, Callie,” Velena speaks with the tone of a friend who’s known her for a lot longer than the two of them knew each other. “I’m trying to get you through this, but I need you to try.” 

 

“I am trying,” she pouts in response. “I am!” She adds, glaring at Velena’s raised eyebrow. 

 

“It would be easier if you weren’t already infatuated with the Knight-Commander,” the Magister cautions. “I told you, you can’t let your focus be so narrow that you can’t see past him.” 

 

“Why is it so wrong for me to have a heart?” Callie says softly. “Don’t I get to want things, too?” 

 

“You do,” Velena leans forward and pulls Callie into a hug. “And it isn’t wrong for Callie to have a singular heart. But you aren’t just Callie anymore; you’re also our Devotia. We need you.” 

 

Callie pulls away from the hug, struggling to look at the young Magister. She knew Velena was just trying to help her, but it was hard to separate the frustrations she was feeling. 

 

“Junivere is an excellent Devotia,” Velena prompts. “She’ll help you figure this all out, I promise.” 

 

“Are you sure?” Callie replies, voice soft and trusting. 

 

“Yes,” Velena nods comfortingly. “One of the lower nobility is throwing a garden banquet in the afternoon tomorrow. After our training in the morning, we’ll meet Junivere there and give you a chance to practice being in public, okay?” 

 

“Okay,” Callie nods. “Thanks, Vel.” 

 

“Of course,” Velena lets out a long breath, standing slowly. “You’ve got the rest of today off. Have a picnic or something. Invite some of the priestesses who tend to the courtyard. You’ll get along, I’m sure of it.” 

 

– – –

 

Callie hadn’t really believed that spending time with a bunch of priestesses would be particularly enjoyable, but as the evening greets them, she’s amazed at how wrong she was. She and four of the Villa’s priestesses lounged in the courtyard, sipping a sweet rose wine and giggling far harder than what felt proper for holy folk. Back home, religious leaders were uptight and turned their noses at anything they deemed improper. Here, dinner with the priestesses had quickly devolved into salacious storytelling. 

 

“‘Push back harder, push back harder,’ he kept yelling at me,” Salome’s voice bounces across the plaza, but all of them have abandoned caring about privacy, “And I’m just thinking to myself, ‘push what harder?’” 

 

“Oh, stars,” Mirabelle cackles, “So what did you do?” 

 

“I’m bent over a cabinet while he’s humping me from behind, what do you think I did?” Salome pauses for a breath, taking another sip of wine. After her third glass, she’s well past the decent expectations of a priestess, talking loudly and waving her arms to accentuate her story. “I pushed the fucking cabinet over!” 

 

The group bursts into laughter, and Callie revels in the warm feeling in her belly. She didn’t drink much back home, and never with a group of women who treated her so kindly. 

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“You’re up next, Willow,” Salome dares, jabbing a finger at the shyest of the bunch. 

 

“Pass,” she giggles. “I’m tapped out of stories.” 

 

“What about that girl you were seeing? The potter’s apprentice with the weird thing about hands?” 

 

Willow’s face flushes, and she hides behind a sip of wine, shaking her head softly with a tiny smirk in her eyes. 

 

The final priestess, Civa, lets out a long sigh. “Guess it’s your turn, hal Devotia. Got any good stories?” 

 

Callie takes another sip, loving the way her trepidations drifted away after two glasses. “I keep telling you all, you can just call me ‘Callie.’”

 

“No way, hal Devotia,” Salome cackles rambunctiously, “Not falling for that one.” 

 

“And no,” Callie smiles, “I don’t have any good stories.” 

 

“I’m sure the Knight-Commander would disagree,” Willow’s voice whispers mischievously. 

 

“Willow!” Salome gasps, scandalized and thrilled. “I can’t believe you’d say that! I’m so proud of you.” 

 

This time Callie’s face flushes and she hides her mouth behind her glass. “More wine, please,” she croaks. 

 

Mirabelle passes the bottle to her, and Callie graciously fills another glass. “It’s fine,” she says, handing it over. “We’re all pretty used to it around here. No shame in anything, hal Devotia.” 

 

“Promise we don’t listen in, either,” Salome smirks, “most of the time.” 

 

Callie throws her hands to her face, embarrassed and giggling. Civa speaks up, “She’s kidding. We get that your job is what it is. You deserve privacy, hal Devotia.” 

 

“But not while drinking with us,” Salome pushes Civa playfully. “Tell us about Paladin Big Dick.” 

 

“It’s big,” Callie whispers, holding back an obscene smile. “It’s big.” 

 

“I knew it,” Willow squeaks. 

 

“What was it like?” Mirabelle asks, nudging Callie with her foot. 

 

“Good. Really, really good,” Callie replies. The group stares at her intently, waiting for more details. Callie’s voice drops low. “I don’t really know how to talk about it… I’m not very experienced.” 

 

The girls burst into laughter. Callie appreciates that they don’t seem to be mocking her, just reveling in the irony of it. She joins them, laughing incredulously at her new life. 

 

“We’ll spare you this time,” Civa grins. “But we want details next time he stops by.” 

 

“Deal,” Callie nods. Night is starting to fall, and as Callie looks up, she can see the first twinkles of stars in the purple sky. She lets out a full breath, feeling light and happy. “What was the Devotia before me like? You all served her too, right?” 

 

“We did,” Mirabelle confirms. “She was a priestess, like us, before she was anointed. Made things kinda awkward at first.” 

 

“Why was it awkward?” 

 

“Being a priestess is a great gig,” Salome jumps in, “but Devotia is better. It sucked watching our friend get the job we all wanted.” 

 

“Oh,” Callie looks down, a little ashamed. “Sorry to… um…” 

 

“It’s fine,” Salome’s hand waves peaceably. “Better than Civa getting it, she’d be insatiable.” 

 

“Hey!” Civa chirped, throwing a cushion at Salome. 

 

“Her name was Ellava,” Willow adds. 

 

Callie rolls the name in her mind for a few moments, thinking back to Calvin’s first introduction. How had he failed her? She’s quiet, then timidly asks, “What happened to her?” 

 

The energy amongst them drops quietly, and it even feels as though the candles dim slightly. Callie immediately regrets asking, but before she could attempt to take it back, Mirabelle speaks. 

 

“She ran away,” her soft voice says, a deep sadness in it. “It was a whole ordeal, but basicall-,” 

 

“She fell in love with an asshole who was using her,” Salome interrupts. 

 

“Salo-,” 

 

“She did!” Salome defends, taking a hasty sip. “He was an ambitious paladin, charming and arrogant and clever. He bided his time, slowly building her trust over fucking years. By that point, she’d fallen head over heels for him and he started convincing her of things he shouldn’t have.” 

 

“Like what?” 

 

“Started out with getting extra blessings here and there. Then slowly started suggesting Elleva shouldn’t summon his rivals, telling her shit about how they would blaspheme or whatever. He was fucking meticulous about it.” Salome’s voice is angry, full of disbelief and frustration. “Like I said, it was tiny escalations over years.” 

 

“It was horrible by the end,” Willow’s quiet voice takes over. “He started pushing her away from us, started climbing the ranks. We tried to tell her he was mean and harsh with us, but she wasn’t listening to us anymore.” 

 

Mirabelle places a hand on Willow’s thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. “He was careful not to get her to break any rules, but then she started wanting him to. I think it took four years before he finally spent the night and word got out. She was going to be excommunicated, and he’d probably be jailed. So they ran.” 

 

“I ratted them out,” Salome says quietly, all eyes in the group turning to her. Her eyes are watering and her voice quivers lightly. “I’m sorry I never told y’all that.” 

 

It’s silent for a long moment as Salome’s shoulders tremble and she places a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to put them in danger or anything, but I couldn’t keep seeing my friend be used like that. We were so close before she was Devotia.” 

 

Civa throws an arm around Salome, pulling her into an embrace as she cries quietly. “You did what you had to,” she tells Salome, rubbing a hand on her back. 

 

Willow and Mirabelle lean forward as well, placing hands on Salome to comfort her as Callie watches silently, unsure of what to say. It’s a while before Salome’s tears stop, and Callie pulls her knees up to her chest. 

 

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” she tells the priestess softly. 

 

“Don’t be,” Salome sniffles, wiping tears off of her face. “Anyone got something I can blow my nose with?” Civa offers up a small cloth to her, and Salome trumpets her nose into it. 

 

“You deserved to know, hal Devotia,” Mirabelle tells her. 

 

“I have one last question, if that’s okay,” Callie ventures anxiously. The priestesses nod, encouraging her to continue. “Why did Calvin say he failed Ellava?” 

 

Civa scoots a little closer to Callie, placing a hand on her arm. She extends a look to the rest of the group, who seem to agree with her. “The guy who Ellava ran away with…” Civa begins, seeming unsure of herself. “His name was Gellan. He’s Calvin’s brother.” 

 

Callie’s anxiety feels as though a hammer crashes into her chest. His brother? “Oh stars…” she mutters. She regrets pushing him to stay the night, wondering how much that must’ve stung him. Guilt coursed through her body again and she hated the fact that it’d be days until she could properly summon him again. 

 

“You like him, don’t you?” Willow asks, and Callie can only nod quietly. The group seems to let out a collective breath. 

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Civa’s hand rubs her arm softly. “We’ll watch your back, hal Devotia.” 

 

“Thanks,” she tells them, but mostly she’s just wondering what she should say to Calvin. She’s so consumed by finding the right words to say to him, Callie doesn’t notice the woman walking up to their group until her voice snaps her back to focus. 

 

“A welcoming party,” the voice says, low and sultry. “Quaint.” 

 

Callie’s eyes slowly rotate, turning upwards to gaze upon the unmistakable robes of a Devotia. 

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