One Serving Per Person
Aside from the stream of donations that followed after the congregation, moved by the confession, it had been a day like any other.
The abbess and her deputy had spent the hours in a headache, scrambling to figure out what to do with the sudden flood of gifts—provisions hauled in by merchants, donations from nobles so large they scarcely knew how to accept them. For Maji, a novice priestess, and for Abigail, who was doing the same work beside her, none of it made the slightest difference.
Cleaning, prayer, scripture. The same loop as always. Abigail wore herself out on the tedium of it, a fatigue nothing like what she had known at the academy. The holy book was stuffed with empty flourishes and bored her to tears, and having to polish things that already gleamed without a speck of dust made her wonder if every priest in the place had some kind of cleanliness disorder.
Her body was fine. It was her mind that was exhausted. She glanced at Maji, who sat hugging a pillow and looking up at her.
The church had put them in the same room entirely. Whether that was consideration or simply the reality of a poor parish that couldn't spare a private cell, Abigail couldn't tell. She met Maji's bright, shining eyes for a moment, then turned her head away.
"Aah! Why?!"
Maji had sent a wordless plea to sleep together, and now she whined at the rejection.
"I'll protect you, Miss Abigail."
Who was protecting whom, exactly? Maji said it with her chest puffed out, utterly certain. Abigail had nothing to say back. Of course a kind girl like Maji would worry.
Abigail was plagued by nightmares every night. The details shifted, but the shape of them never did. In the dream she was always a child again, always being chased. There was always a woman at her side with a warm smile, and the dream always ended with that woman dying for her. Burned. Stabbed. Crushed. The manner of death changed, but the woman always died smiling at the Abigail who ran.
Maji had seen her thrashing through it the night before, when they had shared the room, and today she was digging in her heels: she would stand guard, so they were sleeping together.
"If you're with me, no evil spirit can come near. I'll beat up all the wicked ones."
Where a body that small found that much confidence, Abigail had no idea. Deciding it was too much trouble to argue, she told Maji to do as she liked and lay down on the bed.
Maji wriggled up after her and pulled Abigail upright. They had to pray before sleep, she said. Abigail's face was a study in irritation, but she swallowed it and knelt facing Maji.
"Lady Lutera, I got praised today by Teach—I mean, by Sister Elshara, for cleaning so hard. You'll praise me too, right? So… there's just one little thing I want. A tiny, tiny thing. Please scold the evil spirit that's tormenting Miss Abigail. It's a very, very bad spirit."
A child's prayer, through and through. Abigail looked down at her as she prayed in that small voice, then jerked her gaze away in flustered haste when Maji finished and looked up.
With a little giggle, Maji threw her arms around Abigail and pulled them both down onto the bed.
"You go to sleep, Miss Abigail. I'll watch to see if any evil spirits come."
Lying on her side, face to face, Maji spoke with the utmost confidence. To Abigail's eyes, she did not look particularly reliable. Maji was close enough that Abigail could feel her breath, staring without a blink, and the intensity of it made Abigail shut her eyes.
It had been a very long time since she had slept beside anyone.
"Khhrrrr…"
She didn't even have time to get sentimental. Abigail opened her eyes again. Maji was already asleep, making a sound no child had any business making. So much for standing guard—she had dropped into a dead sleep in under ten minutes.
A church schedule was hard on a child, that much was certain. The other priestesses took on plenty of the work, but even so, a body that small couldn't outlast the fatigue.
Abigail adjusted Maji's posture as the girl sank deeper into sleep with a distinctly unladylike little snore, then smoothed the hair that had slipped across her face. Fingers that might have been beautiful, if not for the calluses, brushed softly along Maji's jaw.
Moonlight leaking through the window caught in Abigail's hair. Her face stayed in shadow, but the red of it met the blue of the moon and made something almost otherworldly. She looked down at Maji with a distant gaze, then, as if the mood had gotten to her, lifted her face toward the moon.
"… …"
"… …"
It was a bright night. Abigail had been hoping for a great full moon. Instead, her eyes met Rai's—hanging off the window frame.
The moment she saw those eyes, glittering with the look of someone who had been watching the whole time, Abigail reached for a weapon on instinct. Nothing came to hand. Not being allowed to bring weapons into the church was a regret she would take to her grave. She packed down the anger boiling up in her, got out of bed, and opened the window.
If this thing opened outward, I could shove this bastard right off.
That small, sour wish in her chest, Abigail glared at him. Rai, wearing an expression that practically begged to be punched, pulled a bottle and some snacks from his coat.
"Moon's out. How about we go have a look?"
The merchant's provisions had improved the meals, but Abigail still felt they weren't enough. It was an offer she couldn't refuse. She followed him out the window and up onto the roof.
The church's high rooftop was a fine place for moon-watching. With Legandia laid out below them, washed in moonlight and looking half unreal, Rai and Abigail ate and drank. The liquor was just an accompaniment. The food was the main event, and both of them kept reaching for it.
"Getting pretty close with that little cling-on, huh?"
"Mind your own business."
Embarrassed that he'd seen it, Abigail growled the words and tossed a strip of dried jerky into her mouth. Rai snickered, took a pull from the bottle, and passed it over. They drank in turns from the same bottle and watched the night city in silence.
"Why'd you pick this place?"
The snacks had finally run out, and even the view had started to bore her. Abigail asked.
"Because it's the easiest mark? Religious rituals aren't that simple."
"Other churches do rituals all the time."
"The point is you and I have to take part. You think there's a faith out there that'll let anyone but clergy into a ritual? They'll call it a 'trial experience,' sure—but the only ones who'll actually let you in without a fuss are the Luteria Church."
He was right. Religious ritual was the exclusive property of the priesthood. From start to finish, it lived in a priest's hands. Everything from the choirs you saw every week to the vast ceremonies that came around once in several years was planned and performed by clergy. Anyone else was expected to watch from the back.
"There have been experiments before, trying to force Divine Power."
"Like the way you use it?"
"No. A formula that converts mana into Divine Power is surprisingly simple. The problem is it takes an absurd amount of magic, so it's inefficient. That's why mages went looking for a way to get power for free, the way priests do."
Power for free. Priests didn't simply receive Divine Power as a handout, but from a mage's point of view it could look that way. Working miracles on nothing but belief and the practice of doctrine—what could be more unfair?
Rai told Abigail what mages had done in the past to steal Divine Power. They had kidnapped clergy for human experiments. They had forced priests to break their own taboos, thinking that if they ran the process of losing Divine Power in reverse, they might understand it.
Whatever story he told, they were experiments wearing a devil's face. Abigail's expression soured.
"That's part of why the churches hate mages. There's material on it in the library, if you're ever bored."
"They just leave books about that kind of thing sitting out?"
"They never managed to obtain Divine Power, in the end. It's also proof that Divine Power is inviolable territory—so they put it on display with pride."
The more she heard, the more she questioned everyone's sanity. One side ran forced human experiments. The other was proud of having been the victim. A bunch of lunatics, the lot of them.
"Then isn't it pointless, us being here?"
If the mages of the past had all failed, there was no chance of succeeding now. She asked if they weren't just burning time for nothing. Rai shook his head.
"I've already analyzed the records, and I think there's a possibility. There was one thing those brilliant mages never did."
"…Participate in a Ritual?"
"Bingo. You think mages skilled enough to analyze Divine Power are going to put in the work to become priests? Easier to snatch a kid, dissect them, and run your tests. That's the limit of fools who think they're exceptional."
Rai smiled a wicked little smile. After all that condemnation of the mages of old, he held the mouth of the empty bottle up to his eye, watched the last drop gather, and caught it on his tongue.
"Of course that isn't the only reason. The radical mages raised enough hell that relations with the religious world went cold, and that played its part too. Magic and faith went their separate ways after that. Nobody cares now, but back then they couldn't even stand in the same room."
Abigail had no idea when his "back then" was supposed to be. The churches disliked magic, yes, but she had never read anything that described them as mortal enemies trying to kill each other.
"Anyway, we'll have our answer once we take part in the Ritual tomorrow. The Luteria Church doesn't go in for that self-important religious pomp, so they're pretty freehanded about showing their rites."
He laughed, tossing in a word that didn't belong anywhere near a church.
"That's the kind of word that gets you smote."
"Haven't I already been, a few times?"
He let Abigail's remark slide, tidied up the spot, and went back inside. Abigail returned to the room, fixed Maji's posture—the girl had sprawled starfish-wide and claimed the entire bed—and lay down on the bed that had originally been Maji's, and tried to sleep.
The next morning, Maji's cheeks puffed out enormously over the fact that they hadn't slept together—then, the moment breakfast was served, the sulk vanished as if it had never existed, and she went about the day at Abigail's side.
Today they were opening a free soup kitchen for the poor. With the ingredients the merchant had donated, they could put together a sturdier meal than usual. Maji was delighted, chattering about how soup-kitchen days meant something tasty to eat. Rai watched her from behind with something like pity, but she looked purely, uncomplicatedly happy.
While they were laying the food out on the tables, a long line formed. Abigail knew well enough that the more a city prospered, the deeper its shadows ran—but she hadn't expected this many people, and it caught her a little off guard.
Folk whose poverty you could read at a glance stood in a long queue in front of the church. Some were crippled. A child who looked even younger than Maji waited with a baby in her arms.
Abigail had been assigned to ladle the soup. She kept stirring with the ladle so the pot over the fire wouldn't scorch, and served it out one person at a time.
"Aigoo, you're all knotted up. Let's see here—your shoulder's been killing you, hasn't it?"
"Ah—yes. How did you know?"
"I can tell just by looking."
Rai, taking a break from hauling supplies to the soup kitchen, was working his hands into a priestess's shoulders. He nodded to himself as he looked down at her ample chest. Abigail stared at him with a look of pure disgust. He paid it no mind and kept kneading away.
"Ahhh-hh… nnh, that feels so gooood…"
The moan had a distinctly indecent edge to it. Abigail wasn't the only one staring blankly. The men waiting in line for their portions were doing the same. He was clearly massaging a shoulder, and somehow the way his hands moved still looked filthy.
The priestess thanked him with an innocent face, saying her body felt so much lighter, and left. Rai walked over to Abigail without even shaking out those thoroughly indecent-looking hands.
If he offered to massage her too, she had already planned it: low kick first, uppercut to the face, then go down with him and take the mount. That was as far as she'd gotten when Rai, hands still unflexed, closed the distance and spoke fast.
"Hey. The pouch. Open the pouch."
Before they had come to the church, Rai had given Abigail a small pouch and told her to keep it on her at all times. She handed the soup off to Maji, pulled the pouch out, and loosened the mouth. Rai put his hand inside.
She stared, wondering what new strain of perversion this was supposed to be. He spoke in a voice too low for anyone nearby to catch.
"I analyzed Miss Maria."
"… …?"
"I ran a mana wavelength through her and stored her biological data as mana fragments."
So the well-endowed priestess from earlier was named Maria. He had offered a massage and, while he was at it, poured mana into her body and pulled the information out. Abigail went pale watching Rai pick, with perfect consistency, the one thing most likely to get a man struck by heaven—and he did not care in the slightest.
"If we gather data on the priestesses and on ordinary people and cross-check it, a way through should show itself."
Having said something that belonged in the mouth of an evil mad scientist, Rai bounded off toward the priestesses in a bright, cheerful voice, offering massages as if nothing had happened. Abigail watched him fleece those innocent women for a long moment—then a loud voice made her turn.
"What do you mean you can't give it to me?! You're handing it out for free!"
A rough-faced man was shouting at Maji, who was serving the soup.
"I can't. This is already your second serving. Other people need to receive some too."
"There's this much food and I can't have one more bowl? A priest who serves a god, being this stingy—tsk, tsk. This is why you brats—"
Maji didn't back down, explaining her reasons calmly and carefully, but the man dismissed her for her age and clicked his tongue.
The weak were not necessarily good. That was a truth Abigail had learned from the life she had lived. Strong or weak didn't matter. The ones who were rotten were rotten, and the ones who were decent were decent. If anything, people who had nothing turned stingy easily, because they had nothing to give, and they grew wary, terrified of having what little they owned taken away. Some of them could only survive by taking, so they turned rough without much prompting, and in those places power became justice more often than not.
This man was that type. Trash who had been scraping advantages for himself just by raising his voice and putting on a nasty face.
Abigail was staring him down when the man, apparently deciding he was getting nowhere with Maji, spoke to her instead.
"Hey. Red-haired priestess. You can spare a little, can't you? Look at all this food. One extra for me isn't even gonna show."
"I said no. There has never been anything left over. Even one more person needs to be able to receive some."
When Maji refused, the man slammed his fist down on the table in a threat. The bread on top jumped and toppled. He picked one up and grinned.
"You could've just given it to me. So damn stubborn."
"You can't! Put that down!"
Maji ducked under the table and came up on the other side. Just as she and the man were about to start wrestling over it, Abigail, who had been watching the whole time, opened her mouth.
"Hey."
The man looked at her. He had never heard a priestess talk like that.
"Put it down if you don't wanna die."
There was not a shred of anything priestly in the threat. He was startled for a second, then his face twisted with anger. He smashed the bread onto the ground and bellowed.
"The hell did you just say?! What? You're gonna kill me?! Huh?! Go on, then! Kill me! Oh, look at that, a priestess trying to murder me!"
Abigail looked at the bread lying in the dirt, then lifted her gaze to the man.
So that's how I looked in front of her.
Remembering the time Melanie had beaten her down, Abigail smiled, thin and bright.
Thud!!
Her fist was faster than reason. The man flew backward, scattering a few teeth into the air. Abigail stared blankly at the fist she had thrown, listening to the man crumple into a corner and the startled screams around them.
"Ah… I actually did it."
Rai had told her not to cause trouble. She had gone and caused it anyway. She could see him in the distance, running over with the priestesses. Abigail smiled, bitter and small.