In the Sovereignty of Holvsren, young priestesses had the luxury of choice. The aspiring acolyte could become a Guide, who would lead the masses away from dark paths, or a Chieftainess, who would organize the clergy. Occasionally, an ambitious young woman could become a High Priestess, whereupon she would join the council that ruled the nation.
But Sachi, a learner two years in training, had her sights set squarely on the Order of Peace. Partially, this was because she liked to work with her subjects directly, as a sister to the masses, not as some distant goddess figure. But she had other reasons. The Order of Peace did not require a vow of chastity, and Sachi took full advantage of that.
Now she stepped lightly through the alleyway behind the Martial Hall, where the entire city's garrison of soldiers trained and slept. These soldiers were often male street rats made good or respectable young men who did not want to marry. In this time of peace, their only job was to stand guard over the nation and its ancient borders.
Sachi had been through the city's seediest alleys. She had seen boys of the night try to woo with their well-practiced lies, opening their shirts just enough to show skin, flicking their painted hair, smiling their fake smiles and blinking their glittering eyes. Sachi had even patronized a few of them. But now she had a more ambitious plan; she wanted a soldier for her bed. If he would come willingly, that was well and good, but if he didn't, she would not back down. She would leverage her power over him, carry him home and make him her whore.
In a lot behind the soldiers' barracks, Sachi carefully stacked crates against the wall, then climbed them until they brought her eyes level with an open window. Peering through it, she saw the soldiers' locker room.
An argument was brewing. A thick-set, shirtless man yelled at a thin young blond boy who just barely had his boxer shorts on. Another man with long brown hair snuck up behind the big brute, mischief written across his grinning face. As soon as he was close enough, he grabbed the waistband of the giant's pants, yanked them down, then turned and sprinted off.
"Hey!" yelled the big man. He turned, extended his mighty arm and seized the trickster by his shirt collar, bringing him down with a single pull. Pulling his pants back up, he knelt over the trickster, shaking him violently.
"Enough!" said a new voice, with the tone of a sergeant.
The trickster and the giant stood up while the blond boy melted away from view. The sergeant spoke roughly to the two fighters, and when he finished, they saluted. But as soon as the sergeant turned away, the trickster took up a thin, wet towel, braided it and snapped it at the bare back of the giant.
The giant did not take it well. He turned, roaring, only to stop with another bark from the sergeant. Sullenly, he turned away again as the trickster blew him a mocking kiss.
Sachi gave a murmur of interest. This trickster was rebellious and full of spirit. It would be a great pleasure to tame him in bed. Most of her friends would have preferred the sergeant, but unlike them, Sachi had no interest in men of rank. She liked courageous men, and that trickster had courage to spare.
She stepped back. It would be him. She would find that trickster on the street and have him. To do that, she needed his name and his patrol schedule.
She sauntered down to the House of Records. In the cobblestone street, she passed businesswomen adjusting their spectacles, couriers spurring on their horses, and even a few men of the upper class out for leisurely walks- accompanied, of course, by their wives.
Past the marble-columned entrance of the House of Records, Sachi asked to see the files of all locally serving soldiers. The clerk gave her a knowing smile, then showed her to a set of metal drawers that held stacks upon stacks of single-page files, each one showing a soldier's name, age, weight and more. The boys were categorized by age, then further by height.
Sachi thought back to the trickster boy she wanted. She remembered a smooth shaven face and long, free hair. That hair was colored a rich chocolate brown, although that did not help her search; the soldiers' photos were all black and white.
She also remembered that the soldier was short for a man, being only about her own height. Taking her best guess to his age, she started at the bottom few drawers and paged through the files, instantly thumbing past any boy who was too broad or too skinny to be the trickster.
She reached the end of the age group without fining the man she wanted. Two years ago, she would have stopped there, thrown up her hands and picked a random boy, or even given up and stormed back to her dorm. But recently, the guidance of the priestesses had taught her patience. She found the next age group and browsed through it.
At last, she found him: Jerafax 'Jerry' Halvsdotter. Besides the mandatory basics of domestic duties and martial etiquette, he had taken classes in mechanics, arts and meteorology, and done well at them all. That was good. Smart men were challenging to seduce, and Sachi was in the mood for a challenge.
And now she had his serial number. In a different room, she looked it up on the schedule sheet and found his patrol times. Apparently, it was Jerry's job to guard the Statue of the Sacred Daughter Rising, and he did so between four and ten P.M. every day. Jerry must have been new to the army, because his schedule was written by a typewriter, not by hand.
Sachi smiled. She did not have enough time to see Jerry today, and she needed to attend Contemplation tomorrow evening, but on the day after that, her schedule was free, and Jerry would be hers.
She strutted back home, full of anticipation. She conjured up Jerry in her mind, imagining him wearing a fancy, heavy ballroom suit, then stripping it off, one little garment at a time. She imagined him kneeling in front of her and saying, "Yes, mistress." She imagined his expert tongue as he-
Sachi dodged out of the way as an automobile clattered by in front of her. The driver honked her displeasure as the black machine faded into the night. Sachi frowned after it. Horse carriages were pain enough, but the new motorized ones were nothing less than a menace.
At the Clergy's Building of Residence, clergywomen from the youngest of acolytes to the greatest High Priestess lived as neighbors. At Sachi's dorm, her three fellow learners looked up from their books, saw her smile and registered different degrees of surprise.
"Sachi?" said her friend Nika, at last. "What's happened?"
Sachi stood in the middle of the room, waiting until she had everyone's eyes. "I'm bringing a boy home," she said at last. "And not just some street whore. He's a soldier."
Eyes went wide all over the room. Jenni, who had taken a vow of chastity early to show her commitment, looked down with disappointment.
"That's right," said Sachi, "the day after tomorrow, I'm bringing him in here, and I'm not letting him out until everyone's had their fun. Be ready for him at 5 O'clock."
Still wearing her grin, she turned and marched off to the showers to prepare herself for bed.
* * *
Jerry sat around a table, watching his friends play cards as he waited for his shift to start. He checked the clock on the wall, but it was still too early to leave.
"You hear about Colonel Bremer?" asked Kyle, who was always ready for small talk.
Private Gorse slammed his fist on the table. "The nerve!" he growled, "Giving up his post to be a harem man? What a sellout!"
