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There had been, and there were, endless arguments about whether anything was truly necessary for a rite.

The right salt, the right incense, and the right offerings. Ways to account for the wrong person, the wrong day and the wrong location. Full of good intentions, a vision of the outcome desired, and worthiness. One criterion after another, augmenting the nature of their miracles.

But in the end, what were they doing? Were the priests casting?

Or were they conduits?

Were they even altogether necessary?

Was a priest one of the components in a ritual, or merely what brought them together? Was there anything innate to them that made them capable of calling miracles, or was it simply an outcome of a good relationship with the divine? Were rituals simply there to satisfy the personal standards of a god, or were they necessary as a natural extension of their being?

Discussion had raged on from time immemorial, and most of it wasn’t even written. In the secretive halls of the temples, generational caravans of thoughts died without ever affecting the wider world except, perhaps, by how it made the gods look at them.

Maybe these things would never be truly resolved- though Alessia had her conclusions about these questions- but Summoning stood all on its own as a source of many troubling implications.

Anything a god did that a mortal noticed could be used to communicate, and indeed the results of a miracle manifesting itself were the basis of many interpretations. But that wasn’t because they couldn’t speak, because they could be invoked through a summons, so was that a limitation of initiative or power?

Or were mortal people just that lacking?

What was certainly true was that speaking to one was…an experience.

The central Temple of Tritos was emptied of all laypeople and its priests were made to prepare everything. Like all big enough Temples, it had multiple chambers and these could be used to divide the work that went into worship. Some took that to mean that they could dedicate entire chambers to individual gods.

But Alessia’s father’s home Temple used them to divide the labor that could be performed for any one god.

But just like not all places of worship were equal, not all of the chambers of the temple were equal.

An old ancient atrium had held devotion to Tritos’ divinities once upon a time. It’s open-air area had been enclosed by walls and covered with a ceiling, with time, but not before it was expanded with rows upon rows of stone benches that allowed onlookers to look down at the priest, the knife and the sacrifice. That old atrium would be turned into the temple, but the place it once occupied was conserved in the biggest chamber that the temple had.

Many torches, almost all of them unlit, circled a stone altar in its middle, completely cleaned of blood. The spicy scent of copper still hung in the air, but there was nothing to excite the violent heart or pious mind yet.

Many of the aristoi, most of them Nori, had joined the Elders and Neoklis amidst the break of the Thing. With no common onlookers to get in the way, they tried to fill the benches and make audience for them, but Neoklis, even now, still had the influence and power to make sure that not more than two dozen were here to share his triumph or failure.

It wasn’t enough to make it private, but it was enough to not make it a spectacle.

Which, in Alessia’s opinion, was a grave mistake on her father’s part.

“Triol, god of our seas, lits a flame for me, as you can see,” Alessia’s father gestured at a blue flame dancing on top of a 6 foot pole without burning any of it, “So does the Spirit of Servitude, Saab, the Charioteer of the Morning, Sowl, and the Runner of the Wind, Lex.”

These four were Parsimoni gods. There were nine in total, not counting minor spirits that still saw worship, but it should have spoken well of a Temple to have 4 of their touches lit at any point in time. At least, it would be if Tritos were a small city with its full capacity for proper Torchbearers.

Now, of all times, the four torches sat as a condemnation of her father.

“I could light all the other Torches, of course,” her father said as Alessia and her mother sat on the first row of the room, “If you gave me a few days to perform the proper offerings.”

“With dozens of priests under your care and the city’s resources in your hands, we should hope you could,” Elder Zina didn’t quite snipe, “But this should be a triumph of your hands, Neoklis. Show us how high the gods still hold the Anax if he presumes to be Head Priest too.”

“Or, if you like, one of us can perform the summoning in your stead,” Elder Eulalia offered.

“I said I’d do this,” Alessia’s father testily said, “But if you don’t have any regard for the gods not present here, fine.”

Alessia, who until now had been staying quiet, saw a chance to make things worse for her father, “Oh, are you going to summon four gods at once, Father?”

Her voice was as eager as it was sweet, her face not showing anything but total faith in her father.

Yet that didn’t keep her father from frowning at her, “Elders, do my daughter and wife have to be here for this?”

“Your daughter has already been introduced to the mysteries,” Zina argued, “And your wife captains a Torch Ship. There is little reason to exclude them from this unless you feel you are going to look bad in front of them.”

“Or perhaps you think their lives are in danger,” Eulalia drily added.

The nobles who managed to gain entrance into the chamber titter a bit at that, but remained in their seats. As for Frija and Alessia?

“We believe in you, love,” Frija assured her husband.

“You won’t fail,” Alessia grinned.

Not at performing the summoning, anyway. Whatever his failings, her father would have never made it High Priest if he wasn’t capable of at least this.

And what a good thing it was: the summoning brought an aspect of the gods here into the temple. With the gods could only seemingly affect the world in specific ways, they didn’t really need to be subtle to make their displeasure known. And a botched summoning could be caused for it. The gods were many things, but “reasonable” when angry wasn’t one of them. However that, too, was a matter of debate.

So Neoklis passed a palm through his face and took a deep breath.

“We do not sacrifice human beings,” he said loud enough for everyone in the ex-atrium to hear. This was a booming voice, a preacher’s voice, “Except for the greatest of slights. And then, only as a way to beg forgiveness rather than to ask for help. To do otherwise would be to imply that many other sacrifices are worthless before the gods.”

“The bird, the sheep, the goat, the cattle and the horse,” he counted the usual live offerings, “These all have their place and purpose. And what a purpose they have!”

The other Elders backed away from him and started making their way to some of the front seats. They, too, could recognize when a rite had started.

“But lesser things have value too, for grains, fruits and vegetables all maintain life,” Neoklis explained something that he had probably done thousands of times, “And clothing, tools and weapons, too, can transcend their material existence.”

“Salt, I have,” he proclaimed but did not pick any up from the stores. Brought up and discarded in the same breath and so, in that way, sacrificed in a sense.

“Incense, I can offer,” he said, pointing at candles that were even now flickering into being extinguished. The room was, thus, that much darker.

“Aromatic woods, I can burn,” he went on, the direction that he was taking the rite beginning to make the moisture in the air increase and lower its temperature.

He’d decided on Triol, then?

“But summoning of a god requires a greater sacrifice,” Neoklis reached for gold gold-bladed knife on the altar, turning the sharp side against his palm.

“The next best thing to a human sacrifice. One of blood.”

“One of will!

Rich red blood fell on the altar. There was no wood piled up in it, but then that was a crotch for normal priests. For people who could not reach the gods.

The blood hit the stone surface of the altar and then spread through all of it, painting it crimson. It, however, did not spill down into the floor once it touched the corners.

It started to…rise and move along the surface, like waves being moved by the wind.

Alessia felt herself breathing a little harder, as the air moisture thickened to the point that it almost felt as though she were breathing water. Cold that sunk into her bones followed and she recognized what her father had done.

Neoklis's blood stopped short of actually touching the stone surface of the altar, floating on the air as something gathered.

And now he would reach for Triol’s Torch, Alessia guessed.

But her father hesitated.

And then made one more cut, this time in his wrist.

It was shallow, but still made her eyes widen as another stream of blood joined the first.

He really was summoning more than one god.

“As this is a question of my piety, I should be that sacrifice!” Neoklis yelled as he used his robes to staunch the bleeding from his wrist. Every single priest who would be a Torchbearer had been taught to not go to these extremes when making offerings because it really was the sort of thing that might be done only once.

But to summon more than one god? For her father, it might now be the only way to keep both face and reputation intact.

A part of Alessia yearned to feel bad about perhaps pushing her father into this but…no, no, she would not have it.

If he made the decision to do this, it was because he was confident about himself

And, indeed, the cut in his wrist proved too shallow to not be staunched by the handful of robe pressed against it.

The blood dripped down, but, just before it joined the sea on top of the altar, it was suspended mid-air.

Winds started to dance in the chamber, pulling at tunics and hair. Cloudy mist began gather at their feet, rising and rising until it was partly occluding things.

This was Lex, then.

He was summoning the wind god.

“If this fine, if this is proper!” her father did not stop speaking in a loud voice for a moment, walking over to where the poles were and grabbing both Triol’s and Lex’s Torches by their handle.

The white cloudy flame in the latter swooshed back and forth as Neoklis brought it over to the altar.

And engulfed the air floating above it.

“If this is just and worthy!” he proclaimed again as he waved Triol’s, taking the pole holding a light blue flame and pressing it against the red surface of the altar.

The sea of red turned into a sea of blue flames as they caught fire, the two divine flames dancing and moving around each other.

But not mixing.

“Then come Lords!” Neoklis voice reached a fevered pitch, “COME!”

The poles no longer held their holy flames, their fires having been transferred to the altar and enhanced.

For a moment, the air DID turn into water, the wind DID blow gale into them, the cold DID seep into her bones and the misty clouds DID envelope them.

But the fires coalesced.

The fires drew in the water and air from the chamber.

The fires stablizied.

And two faces looked on into Alessia’s father.

“Anax of Tritos,” said Triol, his colorless face indifferent.

“Head Priest of Triol’s city,” Lex’s featureless face smirked.

“You called,” one of them said.

“And we answer,” said the other.

“But the shape of your sacrifice is only for questions,” Triol frowned.

“Is…that a problem, divine lord?” Neoklis bowed at the waist.

For a second, their eyes, even featurless Lex’s ones, seemed to veer to Alessia’s mother but, just as fast as it happened, it stopped.

It left Alessia blinking, trying to decide if that had really happened.

“We answered the summons,” Lex seemed to shrug, “And you indeed have questions.”

“It will have to do.”

Nobody seemed to know how to feel about that.

“Right,” Eulalia got up from his seat and bowed at the altar, “Lord Triol, Lord Lex, the questions regard the Anax.”

“We felt this to be the shape of it,” Triol nodded, making everyone there relax, “And we agreed to it.”

“Ask.”

“My lords,” Alessia’s father took the chance to go first, “Is all this truly necessary?”

The two gods, in response, stared at him.

“Are you saying you would dare summon us for something that wasn’t?” the god of their seas asked. People prayed and gave him offerings because the sea had large amounts of bounties in it.

But one thing that sailors and fishermen made sure to not forget was that the sea was treacherous.

That said Triol wasn’t a bad choice, her father had always been fond of him, but now that Alessia thought about it…why had he chosen Triol?

“Never, Lord, Never!” Neoklis bowed hard, acting like a fan, moving his torso up and down, “I meant to say, is my overseership of all matters holy not satisfactory?”

“Oh, Neoklis,” Triol’s face smoothed into a small smile, “I am satisfied with you.”

Alessia frowned as her father relaxed.

“Was that not clear enough?” he gestured at the Elders there.

“Lord Triol,” Eulalia stroked his beard, “Apologies for making you repeat yourself my lord, but needs drive our tongue. Is your satisfaction with our fellow Elder an outcome of his overseership of religious matters in Tritos being good?”

“...no,” the god frowned.

People in the audience started whispering about an Elder putting into question a god’s answer, but one look from Triol had them all stop.

There were a few limitations to answering a summon, the main one being that gods could only act or talk about things in relation to said summoning. It was generally accepted that this was a limitation on the mortal’s part, but it outright required for the summoners to question the answers like Elder Eulalia had just done.

Even IF it could, and did, make the gods feel as though their mortal worshippers were putting into question the validity of their answers.

But then, there was a reason why they so rarely performed the rite.

Alessia, for her part, was far too entranced by having her father’s failures being revealed by the very gods to care about minor danger.

“Do you want to ask more questions, Elder Neoklis?” Elder Zina asked, “Or can we?”

“Go-” Alessia’s father hissed out, “-ahead.”

“Lords, how many in Tritos can light at least a single Torch in Tritos?” the old woman asked.

“17,” Lex flippantly said, “At least, from those who both live and pay cult to us here.”

“How many of them are being trained by the Anax to join our temples?” she then asked.

“That would be four, if you counted the acolyte present,” the wind god gestured at Alessia.

There was a tense silence at that.

“I can explain-” Neoklis began.

“Lords, how many of them know how to light a Torch because of Elder Neoklis’ influence?” but Zina was relentless.

“How many indeed,” Lex laughed, “Well, Trios, do you defer that answer to me?”

“Do as you wish,” the sea god replied.

“Most of them,” Lex’s happily answered.

“Most of them?” Zina said with barely contained annoyance.

Neoklis not bothering to educate those individuals with the gift for communing with the gods under his watch would have been negligent, but a mere annoyance. The notion that it was on purpose and that he was creating a parallel priesthood, the worst option by far, was a quiet declaration of conflict but it fit with the wide reputation for capability that Neoklis had.

That there were would-be Torch Bearers that Neoklis knew nothing about, however? That they were worshippers of their gods, no less?

It outright implied that the Head Priest of Tritos did not have a handle on the religious matters of Tritos.

That…that went beyond negligence.

It was so absurd that even Alessia was shocked by it.

Years of not measuring up to his standards, of her efforts never being good enough. Of having to live to unmeetable expectations, and this was the result of his own work?

For once, her father did not meet her searching eyes.

For once, it wasn’t HER who had somehow fucked up.

For once, the public wasn’t being told of her supposed failures.

The way he looked away.

The way he seemed to shrink on himself.

The way his oh-so proud shoulders slooped.

He…he hadn’t known about this, hadn’t he?

This complete failure of stewardship was as much a surprise to him as it was to the rest of them!

This was…this was so fucking fantastic!

Then she looked at her mother and saw the pitying look she was giving him. And that was when she realized that, no-

-it was not enough.

“Thank you, Lords,” Zina ran a palm through her face.

“That will be all.”

“What?” Alessia whispered under her breath and her mother gave her a quizzing look.

Alessia had talked to the Elders beforehand and made sure- SURE!- that they would have some very specific questions in their list.

Her father’s reputation and career as Head Priest would be over with just this, but what of it?

He would still be with her mother.

“The acolyte,” Lex observed.

“Hmm? Ah, yes, her,” Triol noted what he also saw.

“Lords?” Zina asked and she, along with everyone else, turned to look at her.

“She has a question, don’t you?” Triol knowingly said.

“Such a pity to cut things short when the good Anax went as far as to bleed himself, isn’t it?”Lex added.

“Some of us would hear what you have to ask, daughter of Naoklis. Daughter of Frija,” the wind god added and the inflection that he put in her mother’s name seemed…wrong.

“If the Lords will it,” Zina helplessly inclined her head, “Speak, Alessia. Speak of what’s in your mind.”

But her concern over the sea god's tone quickly left her.

Just when the chance to reveal what mattered most to her slipped, it was miraculously put back in her hands.

So she would not waste it.

She wasn’t the one who was supposed to ask this, and she did not know if she would get a second question like Elder Eulalia to narrow down the answers. But that still left how to phrase her question. Since she was the one asking the question it meant that she would incriminate herself in the asking, but she couldn’t just narrow down the gods’ answer if she didn’t directly address it!

She wasn’t supposed to be the one asking this!

But, no.

She looked back at her mother.

At her precious, unsuspecting mother.

She could do it for her.

“What about,” Alessia decided, “Adultery?”

This wasn’t the question the Elders were supposed to ask, but it would have, should have, ended with it anyway. Her saying it complicated things!

But it was worth it.

It would be worth it!

Her father’s eyes bulged as the question rang out and the gods?

A gig, wide smile spread on Lex’s face, to the point it almost split. Triol meanwhile seemed to be apathetic to the whole thing, as he allowed the wind god to take the stage.

“Hah,” Lex breathed, “Magnificent. Could I have wished for any better?”

“Neoklis, the Anax and Head Priest of Tritos,” Lex began, “Has secretly taken up Chiara the daughter of Chloe the fishmonger as a mistress.”

A gasp rang out in the ex-atrium and Alessia’s heart rang out with the declaration, her eyes watching as the color drained from her father’s face.

“But that’s of little importance,” the wind god waved his hand and made Alessia stop.

What?

“It’s nothing compared to the complete and total, in every sense of the word, betrayal of his wife, the Torchcaptain,” Lex growled.

“Frija.”

“What?” one of the aristoi, so far cowled into being quiet, slipped out.

“Impossible?” another said.

“Surely you are mistaken, Lord?” even Elder Eulalia went as far as to directly question the god.

“She has broken with the faith, Elder,” Lex replied.

“She has broken with her vows,” he declared.

“She has broken with the Torches, broken with our interests, broken with everything,” he continued, “And, even now, willingly bears with that outsider god in her ship.”

“What vows did she break with that foreign god?” Elder Zina frowned.

“Not foreign,” Triol was the one that replied this time.

“But Outsider.”

What was the difference?

“But you asked about adultery, specifically. Was that not so, Alessia?” the wind god queried.

She numbly nodded.

“So I shall narrow the matter down to that answer,” Lex replied.

Cloudy smoke took the form of a babe with a number next to it.

“13 Pregnancies, so far.” the god said and everyone’s eyes went wide.

“3 deliberate abortions, among them,” the wind god counted, “And orphans left at ports all over the world.”

“The Captain pays with her body,” the god proclaimed, “And has male passengers pay with their warmth.”

“She even carries evidence of that unfaithfulness here,” Lex informed them, turning so that it could look at Frija, “With mother’s milk leaking out of her tits.”

“But, hah, I named the partner of your father, didn’t I?” Lex wondered, “Shall I name all her partners too?”

“No,” Alessia’s mother gasped and tore Alessia’s eyes from the gods.

Her face was as bloodless as Alessia’s was feeling, and animal panic had overcome all signs of intelligence in her eyes.

“I can start with the slaves, I suppose,” the god smirked at Alessia’s mother, “And end with the lords.”

“No!” this time Frija screamed.

“I can name all that you did with them,” Lex chuckled, “All the positions, too.”

“NO!” this time the older blonde married woman screeched as her eyes wildly looked at everyone there, going from the nobles to the Elders.

From her husband to…Alessia.

Shame. Self-loathing. Guilt.

It was all there.

“This will take a while,” the god’s eyes burned, “So I best start now.”

“Please,” a voice begged, but it wasn’t Alessia’s mother.

It was her father.

“Mercy, Lord,” he choked, his knees having hit the ground, “I beg your mercy.”

“You dare?” Lex was clearly annoyed.

“Please Lord,” Zina’s knees also hit the floor of the room, “I beg your mercy too.”

“As does this old man,” Eulalia joined her.

Unlike Neoklis, they were looking at Alessia from the corner of their eyes and she realized that they were doing this for her.

“Do you really think any of you have the right to ask of me anything?” Lex growled.

“The margin of the question strains already, Cousin,” Triol chose that moment to interject, “And Influence burns. Broad as the girl’s question was, this pushes things too far.”

Lex shot the sea god a wordless glare before turning to look at all the priests before him again.

“Mercy, then,” he spat, “And a warning for the next time you burn me an offering.”

“It better be something important to you.”

And then, as if with the snap of the fingers, the summoning…was done.

The gale in the room left with the sea in the air. The bitter chill of the deeps wave away to the heat of the day and outside light seemed to break through the mist in the room.

Leaving everyone there to pick themselves up.

And look at a Torch Captain on the verge of panic.

It made them all miss how horrified Alessia looked.

Because what she had hoped for, dreamed for, happened.

And now…it was just ashes and sand.