Chapter 308 The Sanctuary of Flesh

The church stood half raised and was already the tallest thing in the valley.

It was all wood, frame exposed and beams crossed overhead, but the base was concrete and two broad steps ran up to the door. They had carved statues of the Bear God at the sides and one of Ophelia above the entrance, head bowed and staff in both hands.

Kellar looked up at it with his hands behind his back.

It was luxurious. It was the first luxurious thing in the valley, and he knew it, and he did not care.

Ophelia stood at his side, the staff pressed to her breast.

"My lord, the church needs servants," said Ophelia. "Have you decided who will help?"

Kellar kept looking at the door.

Until that moment she had been the only thing he had. One saint and nobody else. Not an acolyte, not a novice, not a single official member of the cult.

"I have some women of the tribe in mind," said Kellar. "But I have not decided who to bring in yet."

"I have some candidates," said Ophelia. "I have looked inside them and they seem devout believers."

"Candidates?"

"Yes, master. There is Derian, one of the craftsmen who built the temple."

Kellar raised a hand.

"Hold on, hold on. It is not that I doubt his faith or hold it cheap. But in this church only women may serve."

Ophelia fell silent.

"Why, my lord?" she asked then.

Kellar turned and looked at her.

"Because all of you serve the Bear God," said Kellar. "And you belong to me."

Ophelia trembled. It was a small tremor, in the shoulders, and she did not hide it.

Kellar reached out and took her backside in his hand.

"Do you think the Bear God has not revealed to me what you do every night?" said Kellar. "Nothing is hidden from the eyes of the Bear God. I know what you use the staff for."

Ophelia went red to the ears.

The staff was the size of a palm and fit in her fist. It was the first thing that came to his mind when he handed it to her, and he kept it to himself.

But later, watching the village, he noticed he was not the only one who had thought it. Ophelia used the staff every night. And she used it to reach the Bear God.

That gave him an idea.

The church as his personal harem.

He controlled every aspect. The belief, the doctrine, the dogma. He could invent any order, any design, and the whole kingdom would obey because it came from above. The mission said "create the structure of the church," and the structure was his to choose.

So why not enjoy himself a little.

He could build a twisted version of the cult of Dionysus. Great orgies to pray for fertility, with the excuse that the population must grow. The faithful would come on their own, and they would not be coming to pray to the bear.

They would be coming to ask him.

"My lord," said Ophelia, and her voice was still odd. "Then who?"

"Who would you put?"

Ophelia straightened her dress.

"I would not put the ones already pregnant by their husbands," said she. "They are busy and the belly will weigh on them. I would put the ones without husbands, and the ones who have no child yet."

Kellar nodded slowly.

"Put the ones with clean mouths and still hands," said Kellar. "And none who think themselves saints ahead of time."

"Yes, master."

"And I want something more," said Kellar. "Before anyone is ordained, you will write the structure. The ranks, the obediences, and who answers to whom. All of it passes through me before a single word is prayed."

Ophelia pressed a hand to her chest.

"May I ask you something, my lord?"

"Ask."

"Will they serve the kingdom, or the Bear God?"

Kellar looked at her a moment.

"They will serve me," said Kellar. "I am the envoy of the Bear God. That is my order."

"I understand, my lord," said Ophelia. "I will obey every word of the envoy."

Power changed people. Kellar had tasted it in small doses and liked it, and now he wanted to taste it large. He wanted to use the club to conquer women. And if he could, why stop.

Why not make the world his harem. One woman from every realm. From every important house. From every species.

Because there were more races. He had not seen them, but he had heard of them. In a caravan, at a roadside tavern, in stories told by drunk men. A pet furra. That had to feel impressive.

"Let us look at how it came out inside," said Kellar.

He pushed the door and the two of them went in.

"Let no one enter the church," said Kellar, without turning.

Grok planted himself in the doorway and rested the axe on the ground, both hands on the haft.

Inside the air was cold and smelled of new wood.

Kellar took a few steps and spoke toward the far end.

"This is impressive!"

His voice bounced off the ceiling, ran out along the sides, and came back from the far end.

It did not come back as a voice. It came back as a roar.

Kellar laughed at himself. He said the same thing again, louder, and the roar passed over him and dragged along the beams.

"Impressive! Impressive!"

"You sound like a boy," said Ophelia.

Kellar shrugged and said it once more, both hands cupped at his mouth, and the echo came back at him from the altar as though something living were answering.

"It seems the craftsmen have more qualities than I thought," said Kellar.

"Of course, my lord," said Ophelia. "They are guided by the Bear God. They cannot fail in their mandates."

Kellar walked to the back of the nave.

There was a central nave and, along the sides, a row of small individual rooms, narrow-doored, with a pallet inside.

"What are they for?" asked Kellar.

"It is my intention that the chosen live in the church," said Ophelia. "Set apart from the world. For the exclusive service of the Bear God."

Kellar turned to her.

"I like how that sounds."

Ophelia lowered her voice.

"Yes, my lord. They will be here for when they are needed. Always at your disposal."

She said the last words into his ear.

Kellar turned, took her in his arms, lifted her, and put her against the wall, kissing her passionately.

Ophelia took the back of his neck and gave the kiss back, and when she broke it her face was a hand’s breadth away and her filmed eyes were wide open.

"Master," said she, and she was panting. "Do not treat me like a foolish believer."

Kellar went still.

"I know you mean to use religion as a weapon," said Ophelia. "I know you mean to wash the heads of all of them so they serve you from the heart. And I know you mean to rule the kingdom through us."

She settled against the wall, hands still on his shoulders.

"I know these games of power far too well. I grew up in a realm. And my family suffered under the church."