Fic a Week 30 - In the God-House
Oct. 11th, 2009 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pauraque_bkSequel to this one.
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In the God-House
Franse was very curious to see God. He had been taught back home that God was far away across the water, on the mainland, so they faced northeast when they prayed. Of course God could not be everywhere at once, and he chose not to leave his country, so he had helpers, the priests.
Franse had been on the mainland for less than a month when they first went to the God-House, he and his seminary classmates. He was disoriented and homesick, and could only speak a few words of Norea, so he still experienced most things as sights and sounds with little meaning, very like a dream. He often felt like he was about to wake up, or could have if he pushed for it, as he sometimes did in nightmares. But usually in nightmares, he chose to stay asleep because he wanted to know what happened next.
That was how he felt as the crowd parted for them in the courtyard of the God-House; the babbling people moved aside for Pr. Soli who led them through, seeing his blue coat and the boys' green ones. Franse clung to the sweaty hand of the boy ahead of him in line as they snaked along, and the sun glared off the pointed gold-leaf roof of the building before them.
Inside it was hot, windless, and still. It was also dark compared to outside, and Franse's eyes struggled to adjust. He could not see Pr. Soli anymore, and another man was talking Norea, and he couldn't understand. The man seized him by the shoulder; he drew back and clung harder to the other boy's hand, but that boy pulled away in laughter, and Franse was led away by the stranger.
In a moment he was put into a room with the door closed behind him. It was large and vaulted, all in reddish-brown tile. At the far end was a chair carved of stone, but no one was in it. The room was softly lit by a skylight above, similar to the one in the seminary library.
"Daz?" Franse said, and then after a moment, in Norea he said, "Hello?"
A fluttery breeze came past his ear, and a bird landed on Franse's shoulder. This had never happened before, but he was not startled. He knew at once what it was and it seemed quite natural.
He raised his hand to it, and the bird stepped onto his finger. It was an orange tanager, the first one he had seen since leaving home. It looked at him with one eye and then the other, and whistled softly. Franse glanced up at the skylight, which was closed, and then checked behind him to see if there was a birdcage.
The bird hopped to his left shoulder when he looked away, and when it was there, its whistles became whispers in his ear, and were in Franse's own language.
"Why have you come here?" it asked.
"I don't know," Franse said. "They took me away and brought me here."
"I brought you here," said the bird.
"Then why did you--"
"I am why," whispered the bird. "You are how. Don't be afraid."
"I'm not," said Franse. The room dimmed and brightened intermittently, as though clouds were passing lazily above the skylight.
"When people talk to you from far away," said Franse, "do you hear them?"
"Do you?"
He considered. "Not unless they yell."
The bird nibbled his earlobe with its sharp bill, which hurt.
"You'll hear for me," said the bird, and there was a flutter, and then it was gone.
Franse turned round and looked up to see where it had flown to, but there wasn't anything. He lifted his hand to his ear and found it bloody, not from the lobe but from inside. He wiped it with his sleeve and went to try the door to the room; it wasn't locked.
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In the God-House
Franse was very curious to see God. He had been taught back home that God was far away across the water, on the mainland, so they faced northeast when they prayed. Of course God could not be everywhere at once, and he chose not to leave his country, so he had helpers, the priests.
Franse had been on the mainland for less than a month when they first went to the God-House, he and his seminary classmates. He was disoriented and homesick, and could only speak a few words of Norea, so he still experienced most things as sights and sounds with little meaning, very like a dream. He often felt like he was about to wake up, or could have if he pushed for it, as he sometimes did in nightmares. But usually in nightmares, he chose to stay asleep because he wanted to know what happened next.
That was how he felt as the crowd parted for them in the courtyard of the God-House; the babbling people moved aside for Pr. Soli who led them through, seeing his blue coat and the boys' green ones. Franse clung to the sweaty hand of the boy ahead of him in line as they snaked along, and the sun glared off the pointed gold-leaf roof of the building before them.
Inside it was hot, windless, and still. It was also dark compared to outside, and Franse's eyes struggled to adjust. He could not see Pr. Soli anymore, and another man was talking Norea, and he couldn't understand. The man seized him by the shoulder; he drew back and clung harder to the other boy's hand, but that boy pulled away in laughter, and Franse was led away by the stranger.
In a moment he was put into a room with the door closed behind him. It was large and vaulted, all in reddish-brown tile. At the far end was a chair carved of stone, but no one was in it. The room was softly lit by a skylight above, similar to the one in the seminary library.
"Daz?" Franse said, and then after a moment, in Norea he said, "Hello?"
A fluttery breeze came past his ear, and a bird landed on Franse's shoulder. This had never happened before, but he was not startled. He knew at once what it was and it seemed quite natural.
He raised his hand to it, and the bird stepped onto his finger. It was an orange tanager, the first one he had seen since leaving home. It looked at him with one eye and then the other, and whistled softly. Franse glanced up at the skylight, which was closed, and then checked behind him to see if there was a birdcage.
The bird hopped to his left shoulder when he looked away, and when it was there, its whistles became whispers in his ear, and were in Franse's own language.
"Why have you come here?" it asked.
"I don't know," Franse said. "They took me away and brought me here."
"I brought you here," said the bird.
"Then why did you--"
"I am why," whispered the bird. "You are how. Don't be afraid."
"I'm not," said Franse. The room dimmed and brightened intermittently, as though clouds were passing lazily above the skylight.
"When people talk to you from far away," said Franse, "do you hear them?"
"Do you?"
He considered. "Not unless they yell."
The bird nibbled his earlobe with its sharp bill, which hurt.
"You'll hear for me," said the bird, and there was a flutter, and then it was gone.
Franse turned round and looked up to see where it had flown to, but there wasn't anything. He lifted his hand to his ear and found it bloody, not from the lobe but from inside. He wiped it with his sleeve and went to try the door to the room; it wasn't locked.
