The Temple of Nikali changed constantly, always in flux, much like life. Today the foyer was full of early flowers, welcoming the spring with a heady bouquet of wildflowers and the occasional breezes from open windows. The Denvali always seemed over eager to let in Spring, removing winter coats and cloaks as soon as it was possible to do so without catching a chill. It was a largish room as rooms went in Denval, where stone was the most abundant building material, but there were tables and chairs, couches and rugs, pillows and instruments lying here and there; everything necessary for ease and pleasure, entertainment and delight. But the children might have been disappointed. There was nothing untoward happening now, most Denvali citizens being hard at work elsewhere at this hour. Of course, Nikali's temple was holy, and some never quite understood the soul- and mind-healing that went on here, focusing only on the prurient aspects of the human condition. Justus, the darkly handsome priest of Nikali, was leaning up against a table near a door that led to the kitchens, pausing in the act of buffing an apple on the front of his loose shift. The laces were undone and the brilliant scarlet chain, his mark from Nikali, was clearly visible swooping along his chest and up around his neck like a piece of jewelry inked in godsblood. The man sensed need, but in these two, he only found curiosity. His smile was friendly and had a tendency to set one at ease. For this reason, those parents who found sex difficult to talk to sometimes arranged for Justus to explain things to their children, but most Denvali were rather open and accepting of such things. After all, it was only sex. "Hello," he said. "What can I do for you today?" |