(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters by A. Ellas (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“Mother misses the midnight rites,”

Jisten said. “She mentioned that she attended them in the Vales with S’Rak’s mother.”

“She did seem to enjoy the conjoined sunset rite this evening, but there is only one of me, and two altars now,” said Rak. “I will continue to offer the evening rite for the Valers if your dhelion wishes.”

“I’m sure that she does,” Jisten said. “In the Vales, my people nap in the afternoon, so that they can attend midnight rites.”

“I will speak to the brethren and ask that more priests be sent, enough to staff a small temple.”

That worried Jisten. “S’Rak, a small Night Temple? In Karpos City? Perhaps in the borderlands near the Vales? Might be safer.”

“We cannot raise a temple until the winter solstice at the earliest, and we will not do so without a treaty first,” pointed out Rak. “I was thinking that if a few Movai would come, the full rites could be observed in the Valer district.”

Jisten relaxed. “That would be wonderful. An entire generation of children, including myself, has grown up without attending or learning the rites of Night.”

Rak flashed a smile at Jisten, but the captain wasn’t fooled. He could tell Rak was only up and about with the aid of morphea.

“Nice and dark.” Jethain looked around the chapel with curious eyes.

“I do serve the Lord of Night,” replied Rak.

“Where are the trumpets? Cymbals? Drums?”

“ Trumpets?” mouthed Rak, shuddering. “Next you will tell me that there are lutes and badly written songs. We have no need of such flashy noise to celebrate the night.”

“They’re not

all

badly written,” Jethain replied.

“But when every noble lady who can shriek is allowed a solo, they all sound bad,” Jisten added.

Rak’s expression was indescribable. “I am so glad that I am spared that.”

“You know that singing a solo on Sundays is highly political,” Jethain reproved.

“That doesn’t help my ears,” Jisten countered.

Rak pointed to the simple bench on the back wall. “That is the only seating.” * * * *

Jethain eased himself onto the bench. He had no illusions that he could stand through the whole rite. Jisten checked his pulse and Jethain shot his halfbrother an amused look.

Rak grinned at Jethain. Then he moved to the altar and began.

Jisten sat next to the prince.. They focused on the altar and the black robed figure before it. Two servants, Tebber and a stable boy, slipped in a few moments after the rite began. Scorth muttered something about them needing a bigger closet.

Jethain recognized Kennit when the boy gaped at him in surpise. He was slightly surprised himself that Bharis was permitting the lad to attend, given that it was foaling season. But perhaps, since Kennit was the stableboy assigned to the avtappi, it made sense. It would also be a handy way for Bharis to pass on messages and requests to the high priest.

Jethain couldn’t help but notice the differences between Rak and Forael, between night and day rites. The noon rite and the midnight rite had almost nothing in common other than being the primary rites for both services. Dawn and dusk rites were performed by both, but they were optional. It was the followers of Si’Yeni, like the Valers, who put primacy on the dawn and the sunset.

Only Jisten attended the sunrise and sunset rites. Jethain was asleep for the sunrise rites and busy with court business at sunset. Once a week, on Sunday, the day most sacred to the Sun God, Jethain attended the noon rites with his father. That’s where he’d first heard Forael’s sermons and earned himself a beating. It was then that the crown began meddling in affairs of the sun priests where it had no business. Forael’s power had been undermined by those fiery anti-slavery sermons.

Jethain found that the chants soothed his soul in a way that he hadn’t realized he needed. Jisten also watched with appreciation, although he watched Rak’s wings more than the altar. Jethain kicked him once, which was unfair because Jisten couldn’t kick back.

The displays of power were impressive, but Jethain had a strange feeling that Rak was holding them back, as if the multi-colored lightning wasn't being permitted to flash along the ceiling nearly as often as it would like to. Green lightning, and only the green lightning, crackled freely along the edges of Rak’s wings, though. Jethain elbowed Jisten when the captain sighed. Jisten pushed back.

“Disruptive sun worshipper,” Jisten whispered to Jethain.

“Crazy Valer,” Jethain shot back.

Rak didn’t seem to notice the energy crackling along his wings as he turned towards Jethain and offered the goblet. “Drink,” said Rak. Jethain drank without hesitation. It tasted very, very good. He wanted to tease his brother for holding out on the good wine, but it wasn’t appropriate during a rite. Jisten’s grey gaze never left Rak as he drank from the cup.

Rak offered the goblet to Tebber and Kennit next. Each of them sipped of the sweet, strong wine in turn before Rak took a sip himself. He poured the rest onto a plate and black fire roared on the altar as the offering was accepted. Jethain watched the flames. They were fascinating and soothing at the same time. While the flames consumed the offering, power flared from the altar, filling them all with an ecstatic sense of the God.

Concluding the chants, Rak turned again and blessed each of them in turn, the tradition for those who witnessed, and partook of, the midnight offering. Behind him, the flames died away until only the vigil candle remained lit. Kennit and Tebber both slipped out as soon as Rak blessed them, but Jethain waited, wondering if his brother would give a homily. He was a priest, after all.

After a moment of silence, Rak said, “Unless you want to ask the God for anything, we are done here.”

“It’s over?” Jethain asked. “I can’t tell without the ending cymbals.”

“It is over,” said Rak. “In a full