Faith
Faith.
With the meal finished and nothing particular left to do, I decided to take a look around my temple.
"Where's the temple?"
I asked lightly as I set down my fork, and every movement around the table froze at once.
Just moments earlier people had been passing bread to their neighbors and chatting with strangers about the taste of the soup; the atmosphere had grown almost comfortable. Now it snapped straight back to the original tension.
The Priest-in-Charge slowly lowered the cup in his hand. His pupils trembled faintly.
"Do you mean the temple of the Mother?"
"Yeah."
I nodded while gazing out the window at the city.
"Earlier, from the shore, I saw this enormous building."
The white structure crowning the highest hill overlooking the harbor stood out even from a distance. Several slender spires rose above its blue roof, and the tip of the tallest one was crowned with a great ornament shaped like a water droplet that glittered in the sunlight.
The staircase leading up to the entrance looked almost too long, and I hesitated a little, yet I was curious what a place bearing my name actually looked like. It was also a place where I might learn how humans had thought of me while I slept, before I ever decided to go out and see the world.
"I want to take a look."
The moment those words left my mouth the Priest-in-Charge rose from his chair and slammed his knee hard into the table.
Thud.
The heavy sound rang through the banquet hall, yet he showed not the slightest sign of pain.
"I shall prepare at once."
"Can't I just go?"
"How could we possibly escort the Mother to the Grand Temple without any preparation whatsoever?"
The Priest-in-Charge bowed deeply again, as though he had already forgotten we had just shared a meal. The young priests seated behind him scrambled to their feet; the record-keepers gathered the papers they had spread out and clutched them to their chests. The City Lord immediately gestured to his officials.
"Clear the road that leads to the temple."
"Shall we order the citizens to withdraw?"
"If we tell them to withdraw there will be chaos."
"Then station soldiers and secure only the path itself."
"What of the temple bells?"
"They must all be rung, must they not?"
"Earlier the Mother said the noise was bothersome."
Voices tangled rapidly. Someone suggested preparing a palanquin; someone else argued that since I preferred walking, offering a palanquin might itself be disrespectful.
I listened to their debate for a short while, then climbed down from the chair. Sitting atop three soft cushions had left me higher off the floor than I expected. The moment my feet left the seat a nearby maidservant stretched out both arms in alarm, while another servant spun around to fetch a footstool. I hopped lightly down before either of them could move.
Bare feet touched the carpet.
"I'll go on ahead."
As I started for the door the Priest-in-Charge and the City Lord cried out together in urgent voices.
"Please wait just a moment!"
"Grant us at least the time to put the way in order!"
"No."
I shook my head while walking toward the door.
"If I wait I'll get sleepy."
They could no longer stop me. Instead everyone inside the banquet hall began to move at once. Soldiers raced for the front gates; priests straightened the collars of their vestments and followed at my heels. Maidservants tried to keep my hair from trailing on the floor, yet every time my pace quickened they stepped on one another's feet and staggered.
At last I glanced back and said,
"Just leave it."
The maidservants withdrew their hands with faces that mixed regret and relief.
Outside the banquet hall warm sunlight settled over my head. Below the hill the sea and harbor stretched wide; far out on the blue surface Edward's dark-blue back floated like a small island. She seemed to notice I had come outside and let out a low cry.
Wooooong.
I cupped both hands around my mouth.
"I'm going to look at the temple. Will you wait a bit?"
I had no idea whether my voice would carry that far, but the sea must have carried the meaning for me. Edward answered by slapping the surface with her tail. A great wave rose from the motion and the ships moored in the harbor rocked up and down all at once. I saw sailors scream, yet none of the vessels capsized.
I waved to Edward, then set off along the hill road.
The temple was not far. At the end of the broad road that began from the hilltop stood a long flight of white stone steps; above them enormous columns and a blue roof shone in the sunlight.
The problem was that news of my leaving the banquet hall had already spread through the entire city. Windows on both sides of the street opened one after another; faces peered out to watch. Merchants in the market abandoned their stalls and crowded to the roadside; blacksmiths, bakers, and laborers from the harbor followed still wearing their aprons and work clothes. Once word spread that I was heading for the temple the murmuring grew louder still.
"The Mother is going to the Grand Temple."
"She means to inspect the sanctuary herself."
"What if she dislikes the temple?"
"Don't say such useless things."
"They changed the altar flowers this morning, right?"
"The High Priest checks them himself every dawn."
Some people prostrated themselves on either side of the road; others clasped their hands in prayer. A few touched the stone pavement where my footprints remained after I had passed; parents lifted their children high so they could see me clearly. There seemed to be several times more people than when I had walked along the shore.
Every time I passed among them countless prayers flowed to me through the water. Hopes that a sick family member would recover. Hopes that a ship that had sailed out to sea would return safely. Wishes that a child would grow up healthy, and the desperate longing simply to have food for the day. Listening to every one of those voices made my steps slow a little.
The people did not know I was hearing their prayers. Merely turning my head made them rejoice that I had looked their way; anyone whose eyes met mine wept on the spot.
I still did not fully understand what it meant to live as a god. I did not know whether granting every wish was even the right thing to do. Yet among the voices that reached me through the water, those I could help simply by stretching out a hand were hard to walk past.
I stopped in front of a woman kneeling by the roadside. She held a small child wrapped in worn cloth. The child's breathing was thin; a burning fever covered the tiny body. While the people around us sucked in their breath in surprise I reached out and laid a finger on the child's forehead. The blood and moisture flowing roughly inside the body came into sharp focus. I slowly untangled the knotted currents and drew a little of the scorching heat away through my fingertip.
The child's furrowed face relaxed. The thin breaths gradually evened out.
"You'll be all right now."
The woman looked back and forth between the child and me, then pressed her forehead to the ground.
"Thank you."
A voice thick with tears scattered across the stone pavement. Not knowing what to say, I stroked the child's cheek once and walked on. Behind me cheers and prayers burst out and continued for a long while.
The Priest-in-Charge walked at my side without managing a single word. He kept a hand pressed to his chest, struggling to hold back tears; the record-keepers wrote furiously even while walking, determined not to miss a single detail of what had just happened.
When I finally arrived before the temple after passing through the crowd, I looked up with my mouth slightly open.
Seen up close the temple was far larger than I had expected. The staircase carved from white stone was broad and long; dozens of columns supported the roof like giant trees. Every column was finely carved with fish, whales, shells, and waves; glass water-drop ornaments hung along the edge of the blue roof and chimed clearly whenever the wind stirred them.
Narrow channels of water ran down both sides of the stairs. Clear water cascading from above filled basin after basin before gathering in a wide pond at the bottom. Silver and blue fish swam leisurely inside it.
"It's pretty."
The moment my impression slipped out, the priests lined up before the temple trembled all at once. The Priest-in-Charge knelt at the foot of the stairs.
"That the Mother finds it pleasing is a glory beyond any other."
"Did you build it?"
"Countless generations raised it little by little, pouring into it their gratitude and awe toward the Mother."
I lifted my gaze to the tallest spire. It was not a size that could have been finished in a year or two. Most of the people who began the work must have left the world without ever seeing the completed form. They had carried stones, carved sculptures, and handed the labor to the next generation—for a me they had never met. Even while I slept. Even without knowing whether my existence was watching them at all.
Thinking of that made one corner of my chest itch strangely.
"May I go in?"
"Everything here has belonged to the Mother from the very beginning."
The Priest-in-Charge rose and guided me up the stairs. The instant my foot touched the first step a low bell sounded from within the temple.
Dong.
Unlike the enormous bells that had shaken the harbor earlier, this tone was calm and deep, like a resonance spreading through water. With every step I took the bell rang once more, and the water in the channels beside the stairs glittered in time with my footsteps.
The great doors of the temple were made of blue metal. In the center was carved the figure of a girl cradling water in both hands; countless living things and stars surrounded her. When the doors slowly opened, cool fragrant air flowed out.
I stepped inside and paused for a moment.
The ceiling was high. Even tilting my head back as far as it would go, the end still felt distant; night sky, galaxies, and stars were painted across it. Enormous murals ran along the walls, depicting the gods creating light and stars, earth and life. And at the center of every painting stood a small girl with silver hair spread wide. The painted me held both arms open; countless gods knelt before her. Her expression was both benevolent and solemn.
Beneath it long golden letters were carved. The Priest-in-Charge explained carefully.
"This sacred painting depicts the moment the Mother banished the primordial darkness, gave birth to light, and commanded the gods to create the world."
I looked up at the painting for a while.
"Did I really look like that?"
"It expresses the Mother's compassion and majesty as recorded in the holy scriptures."
I searched my memory. When I created the Light God I had simply been thinking that everything was dark and boring. The reason I left creation to the other gods was that doing it myself would have been a bother. There was quite a gap between the majestic figure in the painting and what had actually happened.
"A little exaggerated."
At my mutter the faces of the priests following me stiffened. The Priest-in-Charge opened his mouth cautiously.
"If it does not please you, we shall immediately replace every sacred painting—"
"No, it's pretty enough."
People let out breaths of relief. I walked slowly along the murals. On one side was a scene of me shaping Leviathan in the Primordial Sea. The painted Leviathan was vast enough to encircle a continent, blue flames rising from its eyes. The next painting showed me creating the Universe with a single gesture of my hand. Stars and galaxies poured from my fingertips; the gods received that light and obtained their own Authorities.
"I didn't make this one."
I pointed at the star-filled painting.
"The children did."
The Priest-in-Charge bowed deeply.
"Since the Mother shared the power of creation with them, every act of creation begins with the Mother."
It was not wrong, yet it felt somehow unfair. The gods had worked hard to make the world themselves, yet all the credit seemed to come back to me.
I shifted my gaze to the next mural. There I was depicted gazing upon the finished Universe and bestowing its name. While countless gods prostrated themselves in rapture, the painted me pointed at stars and planets and established the laws of the world. In reality I had simply spoken a familiar word without thinking.
"I really do need to watch what I say..."
A record-keeper who overheard my private murmur moved his quill. I quickly turned around.
"Don't write that down."
The record-keeper's hand froze in midair. He looked at the Priest-in-Charge with a face as though the world were collapsing. The Priest-in-Charge pondered a moment, then spoke solemnly.
"Words the Mother does not wish recorded shall be engraved only in our hearts."
That was a little burdensome too, but I decided not to say more.
The farther I walked into the center of the temple, the darker the stones of the floor became. Blue glass ran like waves among the white stone, and faint light bloomed beneath my feet with every step. At the end of the path lay a vast sanctuary. Long benches stood in rows in a space large enough for thousands; water flowed quietly around the round central altar.
Beyond the altar rose an enormous statue.
"Is that me?"
My voice rose a little without my meaning it to. Even the tip of the statue's foot was taller than I was. The girl carved from pure white stone held both hands cupped before her chest; between the palms floated a water droplet of blue crystal. Hair cascading to her feet merged with waves that wrapped the entire altar; beneath the hem of her robe humans and elves, dwarves and beasts, fish and birds gathered in peace.
The statue's face was far more solemn than anything I had seen on the temple doors or the murals. The eyes were half-closed; a faint smile at the corners of the mouth seemed to understand every suffering.
I walked right up beneath it and tilted my head until my neck ached.
"It's too big."
"Even this size is utterly insufficient to contain the Mother's greatness in stone."
The Priest-in-Charge's answer was completely serious. I looked back and forth between the statue and my own hand. I felt I could climb up and sit on one of those fingers.
Suddenly I felt like playing a little prank. I dipped my toes into the water surrounding the altar. The water rose along my ankles and gently supported my body; I floated slowly upward on a blue stream. Startled gasps burst through the sanctuary. When I reached the height of the statue's shoulders I settled lightly atop the great stone head. My silver hair spread long across the statue's crown. Looking down, I saw priests and citizens alike staring up at me with open mouths.
"Sitting up here makes the size look even weirder."
When I patted the statue's forehead with my palm, one of the priests dropped straight to his knees. Everyone else in the sanctuary followed, prostrating themselves. Someone began to sob; someone else raised both hands high.
"The sacred image has welcomed its master."
"The Mother has descended upon her own likeness."
Seeing their reaction I hurriedly rode the water back down to the floor. I had only climbed up for fun, yet it looked as though a brand-new sacred painting was about to be born.
"I just went up because I was curious."
"Even that curiosity is an unfathomable revelation to us."
"It's not a revelation."
"Yes."
The Priest-in-Charge answered obediently, yet his face did not look convinced. I decided not to do anything strange near the statue again.
In front of the altar countless offerings had been laid. There were gold and jewels and ornaments set with pearls, yet far more ordinary things. A necklace strung from seashells. A picture drawn by a small child's clumsy hand. A piece of wood that looked as though it had been torn from an old ship, and a fisherman's knife whose edge had been dulled by long use. Dried flowers, a single piece of bread, a small bottle filled with seawater.
I crouched in front of them.
"What are all these?"
"Things people offered in gratitude to the Mother."
"They're not gold, and they don't look expensive."
"A scrap of the first net a sailor offered after returning alive from a long voyage; a pair of baby shoes offered by a couple who had received a child; the last piece of bread offered by a fisherman who believed the Mother had granted a bountiful catch to his starving family."
Listening to the Priest-in-Charge's explanation I looked at each offering in turn. The tiny worn pair of shoes was small enough to fit in my palm. On the piece of wood that had been soaked and dried by seawater many times, someone had clumsily carved the word "thank you" with a knife tip. The shell necklace stained with handprints was uneven in shape and size, yet the string had been tied tightly over and over so it would not come undone.
People had left here the most precious things they possessed. For some that was a jewel; for others it was a worn net or a piece of bread.
I carefully set the baby shoes back in place.
"You keep all of these?"
"There is no distinction of precious or lowly in a heart offered to the Mother."
I liked those words. I sat a while longer before the offerings, then reached out and touched the water flowing across the altar. Gentle ripples spread in circles. The ripples passed through every channel, fountain, and pond inside the temple and continued on to the city's wells and the harbor.
Countless prayers that had been flowing through the water reached me again. This time they sounded a little different. They were not only requests. Voices thanking me for letting them live another day. Tears shed while embracing a husband returned from the far sea. The laughter of parents watching a child take its first steps. The warmth felt while sharing an evening meal with a poor neighbor.
I myself had done almost nothing. Yet people were thanking me for what they had gained from the sea and for the joys they met in life. It felt a little unfair—and yet not bad.
"Everyone's been living hard."
I murmured softly and drew my fingers from the water. At that moment the water flowing across the altar took on a blue light. The clear radiance spread along the channels through the entire sanctuary, and the stars carved into the walls and ceiling of the temple began to shine one by one.
Priests lifted their heads in surprise. The Priest-in-Charge laid a trembling hand upon his chest.
"The Mother has looked upon our lives."
What I had said was lighter than that, yet this time I did not bother to correct it. People were so happy that I did not want to spoil the mood with explanations.
I looked around the temple once more. The enormous statue and the splendid murals were still a little burdensome. The records that credited me with things I had never done would probably need fixing someday. Yet I could understand the hearts of the people who had made this place. They had not raised the temple out of fear alone. Life gained from the sea, the joy of living through another day, gratitude for families reunited—those things had piled up as stone and painting and small offerings until this vast place came into being.
After a moment's thought I looked at the Priest-in-Charge.
"I like this place."
The Priest-in-Charge's lips trembled. He tried to answer, yet no voice came out; he swallowed several times. The young priests beside him wiped their eyes; among the citizens gathered at the back a suppressed sob spread. I found the reaction a little overwhelming and fiddled with my hair.
"But make my statue's face a little less scary."
The weeping stopped dead. The Priest-in-Charge slowly raised his head and looked at the enormous statue.
"Did it appear frightening?"
"Yeah."
I pointed at the solemn face of the statue.
"I don't look like that."
Countless gazes moved back and forth between the statue and me. The statue wore a deep, benevolent expression as though it knew the fate of every living thing. Standing beneath it I was barefoot, with a few shells I had picked up on the beach stuck in my hair, and I had only just climbed down from playing on top of my own statue's head.
The Priest-in-Charge asked with extreme care,
"In what form would you have us remake it?"
I thought for a moment.
"Just a smiling face is fine."
"A benevolent smile, you mean..."
"No."
I lifted the corners of my mouth naturally.
"Like this."
The priests stared at my face without even breathing. Record-keepers and sculptors hurriedly pulled out paper and tools. Some tried to memorize my expression from the front, others from the side. Only then did I realize I had started something again.
"You don't have to try to make it exactly the same."
"We shall carve it without the slightest error."
At the sculptor's firm reply I let out a small sigh. Even sightseeing a temple was harder than I had expected. I had only come because I was curious how I was being depicted, yet it looked as though the face of a sacred image maintained for hundreds of years was about to change.
Still, a smiling face would be better than the current scary one. Whenever people came to pray it would be more comforting to look up at a face that smiled a little easily than at that solemn expression.
I kept my hand in the water flowing around the altar and looked around the temple for a while longer. A place built from people's prayers and lives. A place that had waited a long time for a me it had never met. A little exaggerated, far too large, and so reverent throughout the visit that it was burdensome—yet still.
"Not bad."
With my words every stream of water flowing through the temple rippled gently. Blue light climbed all the way to the ceiling, and the stars painted there sparkled like a night sky. The people gathered inside the temple knelt again, yet this time no one wept or raised a loud voice. They lifted their heads and looked at the shining ceiling and at me smiling.
Receiving those gazes I thought: From now on I should try to go about things a little more ordinarily. If this kind of uproar broke out wherever I went I would be exhausted before I ever got to see the world properly.
But...
If I just leave after receiving this kind of welcome, the title "Mother of the Gods" would feel wasted...
Maybe I should put in a little effort for once.