Niala loved the flames of the temple, the way that they flickered across the stone walls, exposing her path as she wound her way through the dark passages. Fire was sacred, the priestesses told her. Fire was life to man.
Fire was to be treated with respect, to be kindled in the hearth and at the altar. Fire was the property of the king, as was all life that flowed forth from that heavenly ruler.
The stolen flame leapt merrily from the torch that Niala carried, making her way back through the secret passages that she had discovered one night after hours of cleaning duty for blaspheming against one of the minor temple gods.
Priestess Alrena had set her to work then left her alone, something that had proved to be a mistake. Niala had immediately set about discovering the secrets the temple held, and these back passages were just one of the ways she had discovered of getting up to more mischief and not getting caught.
A small smile curved at Niala's lips as she thought of Alrena. Her long silky black hair was combed daily by supplicants and treated with scented oils that kept it in the most marvellous condition. Niala ran her hand through her own tousseled short brown crop and frowned. She wished she could have hair like Alrena's. Perhaps if she made it to Priestess herself she would be allowed to grow it.
A cool breeze had sprung up, indicating she had almost reached the end of the tunnel system and was about to break out into open ground. She almost skipped with glee, imagining what Alrena would say if she knew. Niala could imagine her brown eyes, normally warm becoming stern, and in her minds eye she could see her reach for the switch she used to discipline the disobedient novices and initiates.
Alrena said she was getting too old for a switching now. Which Niala supposed was the reason that she had been sent to clean last time Alrena had caught her misbehaving. The image in her minds eye of the statuesque Alrena, switch in one hand and the other on her hip and looking down at her dissaprovingly sent butterflies through her tummy.
She emerged into the half light of the early morning, clutching the torch in one hand and the other protectively covering her behind from the memory of the switch. The entrance of the tunnel system was fairly well obscured by undergrowth, but a burning flame is always noticeable. Niala suddenly wished that she had thought this through better.
She peered cautiously out from behind the relatively thick cover of the ferns that surrounded the entrance of the temple and looked around. It was still and silent, perhaps everyone would still be asleep. She could only hope.
Pulling her shawl around her shoulders and over her head, she stole out and raced towards the outskirts of the city. The temple stood up on a hill, overlooking the great city with its fine buildings and jewel of the world, the royal palace nestled at its centre. Niala was bound for much less palatial dwellings though, and dewy wet grass soon gave way to packed dirt as she arrived at the narrow paths that wound between the peasant dwellings.
Winter was coming on soon, and not everyone could afford to pay the fire tax the king had imposed upon his people. These peasants would have nothing to keep them warm except the sacrifice of their family members. Knocking surreptitiously on a rickety old door, Niala was admitted into a small one roomed house. There were holes in the walls and the roof, and she could see bugs scuttling about, running from the illumination of the flame.
Several people greeted her almost in silence. A wife, a husband, their four mournful looking children, who gazed at the flames, mesmerised, and an old woman who had not appeared to notice Niala's entrance at all. They were all dirty and all looked hungry. Niala felt a sudden rush of anger that any should live this way whilst the king bathed in waters laced with gold.
The wife cried out with gratitude and excitement as she saw the fire that Niala bore.
"Oh bless you! Thank You!" She exclaimed, clasping her hands together in joy, then impulsively hugging Niala. Niala blushed and handed the husband the torch, which he took with a grateful nod.
"Just make sure to share it." Niala said, drawing her shawl back over the simple yet embroidered robes that marked her as one of the temple virgins.
"Of course, may you be blessed always!" The woman enthused as Niala let herself out of the house and stole back towards the temple. A few people would find warmth at least this winter, perhaps if they were careful to guard the flames, all the peasants might survive. The fire tax was a cruel way of keeping down the peasant population, letting the old and the young suffer and die. Niala's deep green eyes flashed with fury as she thought of the regime that allowed that to happen.
The sun was up fully now, and Niala realised that she was late to the morning ritual. Perhaps she could sneak in. She could hear the chanting from the temple already as she skirted around the outer buildings, avoiding the guards with a practised ease.
The door to the temple was ajar, and as the high priestess lead the morning prayer, Niala said a little one of her own and slipped through the great doors as innocuously as possible. The last row of initiates was only a foot from the door and Niala slid in between two, her head bowed in pious supplication, fingers crossed for good luck under her shawl.
The temple was warm as always, and her late night had taken a toll. She soon found her eyes closing, and she wavered on her feet. If she hadn't been wedged in between the others, she might have fallen. As it was, she managed to doze off leaning against the shoulder of the young woman next to her.
A sharp smack to her bottom brought her awake sharply. Her resultant yelp brought many quizzical stares as everyone began to file out of the temple to begin the days activities. Jumping around, Niala found herself looking at not one, but three Priestesses.
Groaning inwardly, Niala realised that she hadn't been nearly as stealthy as she had hoped. Priestess Kyara fixed her with a look, she was a sour old woman and Niala had never liked her.
"And where were you this morning?" She rasped nasally, her voice tainted by years of leaf smoking.
Niala put on her most innocent and penitent expression. "I am sorry Priestess, I awoke late. It won't happen again."
"Late for the service of the divine, girl." Cut in Priestess Hannia, shaking her head. Niala shot her a pleading look. Hannia was a decent sort, one of the tutors who had taught her over the past years.
It was the last Priestess who Niala was really worried about. Alrena stood behind the other two, her superior height allowing her to study Niala carefully. Niala felt Alrena's eyes search her face, and then travel down her body. With a blush, she realised that her nipples had grown hard, and the tingly sensation that ran through her body whenever she was in the woman's presence had returned.
"Clearly Niala and I have much to discuss." Alrena noted dryly. "Thank you, my sisters for bringing her tardiness to my attention."
Hannia and Kyara nodded and took the hint to leave. The temple was empty now, the only sound the receding swishing of the departing Priestesses' robes as they took their leave.
Niala had her fingers tangled together protectively in front of her body, twisting in position uncomfortably as Alrena just looked at her for a long moment.
"I am curious as to how you became muddy whilst oversleeping." She said, finally breaking the silence.
Niala looked down and saw that her feet and the hem of her robes had indeed picked up the dirt from the peasant quarter.
"Interesting too, that you managed to get dirty with a kind of dirt that isn't even present at the temple." Alrena continued, crossing her arms across her chest and looking down at Niala with a kind of indulgent censure.
Damn. Niala realised what she was talking about. The hill was sandy and tinged red with ore that had lead the founders to build the temple in that location. The red hue of the ground had inspired the first Preistesses. The dirt which clung incriminatingly to Niala was a muddy brown.
