Uncertain of what to expect, Aralim and his friends filed into a meeting room in the western wing of the Palace. It was a broad room with a centered table framing rectangular panels of glass on its surface. Aralim had heard enough boasts in Rema to know the rarity of quality glasswork beyond Numa’nakres, though glass like this would have been commonplace in his own homeland across the Stormy Sea. As his friends seated themselves around the expensive furnishing, Aralim prepared himself for a religious tutoring.
Three priests entered the room after them. One appeared to be of a serving rank, while the other two wore a triangular mantle of sky blue silk around their shoulders. These senior members were a man and a woman, both middle-aged and stern-faced. Introductions were done; they identified themselves as Senior Priest Morrin and Senior Priestess Esrie.
“The first thing you should know,” Esrie began, “is that Maga’s healing waters exist within the lake, but do not fully constitute it.”
Aralim raised an eyebrow and looked at Devran. This was surprisingly pragmatic. Devran had been looking forward to hearing details of their goddess to compare her with his own god.
Esrie continued: “You may not find it the first time or even the second, third, fourth, or beyond. Maga rewards perseverance.”
Morrin took over. His voice was exceptionally deep and seemed to vibrate the table. Both priests addressed Aralim directly. “Some rulers of our city would keep a regular schedule, bathing in the lake a specific number of times each month. This would ensure the occasional encounter with the healing waters in order to keep them in exceptional health.”
“Those in more dire need may bathe twice a week, or even every day,” Esrie added. Then she looked down, as though remembering their circumstances. “Given the uncertainty with the Eye, we are cautious about scheduling this for your friend. Until we know that you will emerge unscathed, we will not plan ahead.”
Aralim nodded. “That makes sense to me,” he affirmed.
“How long does the healing take?” Nill asked. “Would the candidate swim around or just dip in?”
Morrin smiled. “Seeking Maga’s gift is a matter of ceremony and tradition. If Maga wishes to heal you, she will. There is no need to splash around in search of it.”
“And as for the encounter with the healing waters themselves,” Esrie explained, “the effect is instantaneous. The Ambassador needs only dip into the water once in order to be rejuvenated.”
“I won’t be needing the healing waters—only Lerela,” Aralim told the priests.
They both blinked, looked at each other awkwardly and then nodded. Morrin stammered an explanation: “With your hand, we simply assumed you would both seek the water. It will be as simple as letting Lerela down into the water then.”
Aralim’s hand was no longer bandaged, but it had been for the last few weeks. In Aralim’s opinion, his marbled skin was in no need of healing. His hand worked just fine. With a shake of his head to them, he explained, “My gaining benefits from the Eye would go against my hope that reserving the blessed water for those who need it would appease Maga. I may be old, but I’m at peace with my health.”
The priests shared a smile and a nod. They had looked equally impressed during that audience with King Eilar.
“So the water just washes away any injury?” Nill questioned, fascinated. Devran, sitting next to her, look dismayed at the simplicity of their explanation. It was a powerful gift indeed.
Morrin nodded. “It has even been recorded as regenerating severed limbs,” he said, with a proud smile.
Aralim blinked. Very powerful! he marvelled.
“There was one logistical matter that concerned our order,” Esrie said. She folded her hands together formally. “In tradition—and our understanding of the healing water’s functionality—the seekers of healing must enter the water in the state they were born: unclothed. There was some concern about you both entering in such a state, man and woman…”
“But it is less inappropriate if you remain garbed,” Morrin tacked on, awkwardly.
Nill’s cheeks lit up with a rosy hue, while Aralim shrugged. “Lerela was trained rigorously alongside military elites,” he explained. “Grendar, for her life, Lerela wouldn’t be concerned by this, would she?”
“Not at all,” Grendar replied, uncomfortably. “If… uh… you don’t.”
Aralim turned back to the Senior Priests without missing a beat. “It won’t be an issue,” he assured them.
Morrin cleared his throat. “Excellent. There are a few matters to organize concerning the royal raft and the Sight Benders who will ensure security along the lake wall as is the custom. I am eager to see if your insights will appease Maga’s anger in a few days.”
“I will be ready when called upon,” Aralim said, with a smile and a bob of his head. He reclaimed his staff and stood up in unison with his friends. He vaguely wondered what the chances were of his returning from the Eye in some sort of disfigured or aflame state, but decided against asking the priests.