The Deschule service began at sunrise, an event recognized in the forest by when the stars faded. In essence, the service was the same as any other— there was just more music, more words and more rituals to take part in. The sounds of praise wafted up to the sky, and, it was hoped, to the very ears of the Great Master himself. The tale of his birth was told in all its many forms (for many had had the chance to retell it in the three thousand years since) and each was acclaimed with thanks.
Hyran’s part went well, and everyone remained in harmony, though he’d have preferred the discordant note. Others had parts to sing as well, and the size of the groups grew larger, producing louder and louder sounds. Finally, the pipists began to play, adding their incredible volume to the celebration. Harder and harder they pulled on their ropes, until the end of the song.
The silence came slowly, as the noise bounced around until dying off. When silence did come, it was deafening. It was in that perfect silence that the monks shuffled out. Their ears rang, but that died down, too, when they went outside. The birds chirped loudly, and squirrels, insects, and frogs added their notes to the animal chorus. The sun was high overhead now, meaning it was time to go to the town of Kelwom. The brothers began to chant as the abbot led the way down the steps to the lower level, and then lower as the stairs wound around the tree. These were the steps that the penitent must use to go to and leave the monastery, and since the steps were grown from the tree itself, each one was a reminder of the importance of the trees in Vle society.
They eventually came to the top of the first canopy. Here, the steps came to an end at a platform, which extended quite a distance from the tree. At the end was a rope bridge, which connected to the town platform. The abbot led across this as well.
The townspeople were waiting, all as penitent as they could manage. Undoubtedly, it was that evening which was on their minds, but for now it was time to quietly welcome the monks into town. The route to the chapel, two trees away and one level up, was marked out well, though the abbot knew exactly where he was going. It was a town of about 1500 Vle, mostly dark-skinned, so it was relatively large and fairly important to the area. Undoubtedly there were Vle here from the nearby villages as well.
The children, of course, made a little noise as they got bored with the solemn ritual and began to fidget. Some of the monks, Hyran knew, would disapprove, but nonetheless would not stop singing to complain. He, on the other hand, smiled at the children, and occasionally mouthed a simple ‘sh.’ One young dark girl, with startlingly light hair, perhaps thirteen years old, saw him do that. She giggled, and then her mixed-group of friends did as well. He felt her eyes on her as he passed, but ignored it to concentrate on the song.
Finally, the monks arrived at Kelwom’s cathedral. Its architecture was more recent, and the wood of the oak hadn’t yet aged to the dark brown of antiquity like the rooms of the monastery had. It reflected advances in Treesculpting, the magic that made modern Vle society possible, in that the forms included much thinner beams and filaments. Whereas extrusions before would have been entirely functional (that is, load-bearing), now it was possible to string a beam clear across the sanctuary and festoon it with symbols of the faith.
It was also quite big. All 106 monks could gather on the steps before the great doors and face the crowd. Their chant ended soon after the last novice stepped into the front row, and from that held note they began the age-old Deschule song. The town joined in with the unintelligible words, of course, and the town’s pipists inside accompanied with their mighty instrument. Hyran marveled at the unexpected guests- a flutter of brightly colored butterflies of various species danced over the crowd.
When the song ended, the crowd erupted in cheers (disrupting the butterflies). The ritual was over, everyone was Redeemed, and it was time to party! The crowd dispersed amazingly quickly to the various watering holes of Kelwom, all of which were situated on either end of a plaza, really two platforms that extended a little further outward from two relatively close trees. The monks followed the crowd in a much more relaxed attitude toward the party. They never had to worry about visiting a pub or ordering a drink, for there were more than enough townspeople willing to provide them with one. Hyran, however, had never acquired the taste.
Allega’s chuckle made Hyran stop and turn around. “Gets better and better every year, I think!” observed the older man.
Hyran had to agree, though he of course hadn’t seen nearly as many Deschule celebrations. “Although sometimes I think this is the only reason these people are believers.”
“Tsk, tsk, such a cynic! I’ll have you know that while I was a priest down here, I had a number of converts right in the middle of Dryseason.”
“Oh, sure. That’s when lots of us get depressed. If you ask me—”
“I know, I know, I was essentially preying on the weak. You’ve said so before, and by the way, I’ve never asked. Still, you must agree it’s for the better.”
“Of course. I just think a convert’s faith will be stronger if the conversion happens as a logical decision with clear alternatives.”
“Hyran, when you get to my age, you’ll appreciate every convert as unique enough to warrant different circumstances. Mark my words.”
“I mark them.” He paused, realizing that this was not the time or place for such a heavy discussion. In the crowd, he noticed the girl he’d seen earlier, and waved before turning his attention back to Allega. “So, where do you expect to stay this year? With the Seaker family?”
“Oh, quite probably. Who were you with last year? The Baydack family, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, but if I remember right they like to have someone different every year. Still, seeing daily life from their point of view was fascinating.”
“Right, because they’re light like me. Are they getting along okay?”
“Quite well, yes. We still keep in touch by letter, and their son just left town last month to seek a mining job.”
“I hear those jobs pay well, though the conditions aren’t good.”
“He doesn’t intend to stay long, just long enough to earn the money to open a leatherworks.”
“Really? I had no idea he had skill in that area.”
“He is very talented.”
Just then, there was a tug on his robe. He looked around to see the young girl looking up expectantly at him. Her giggling friends and her somewhat reluctant mother were there too. “Hi! Um, I just wanted to ask a question...”
Hyran knew what the question was, but couldn’t presume, lest it seem he was inviting himself. So, he ‘guessed’ at the question. “You want to know how to become a nun?”
“No!” More giggles, and even Mom cracked a smile. “It’s about... tonight.”
“Oh, you want to know if I want to try your father’s special wine and get drunk off it?”
“No, I have no father! I’m just inviting you to spend Holy Week with my family!”
“Oh! Well, I’ll be delighted,” he replied, giving the girl’s mother a wink.
She finally spoke up. “I’ll be happy to have you stay, but I must apologize. Since my husband died, we haven’t had much to spare.”
“I understand. Your hospitality is well appreciated.” He was pretty much honor-bound to accept, just as the family was honor-bound to stick to the invite, once made.
“My name is Caile.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Brother Hyran.”
“If you would like to come this way...?” As he followed, her daughter took his hand, and he was surrounded by the children.