Jezebel would very much have liked to have skipped the evening services tonight just to spite her father. But, seeing as how he had his hand in several of her projects at the moment, she put on a happy face and attended.
The Temple of Naoham was an impressive building; tall stone columns lined the immense structure, each separated by a stained glass window that even on the darkest night seemed to glow with an unearthly light. The intricate patterns tangled around one another in a mystifying and ever-changing depiction of stories told in the scripture, the magic within them undiluted despite the passage of time.
The number three was prevalent throughout the artwork, a testament to the old ways. Many of the commoners still worshiped the Three and performed the old rites, but most of the noble class had realized the true Word was that of the Sleeping God, Nuko, who would return to them once they had achieved enlightenment and were prepared to have a god walk among them once more. Jezebel's family had been one of the first to comprehend the real meaning behind the scripture's words and had helped lead the conversion to the true religion.
It’s only to be expected that we would have been the ones to grasp the god’s true intent, she thought proudly, her gaze resting on the statue devoted to her grandfather and her family.
Jezebel knelt at the threshold and hooked her little finger on her thumb. She raised the remaining fingers to her mouth, briefly brushing them up against her lips and then touching them to her heart before standing to take her place in the row of seats. People shuffled in and Jezebel's father came to sit beside her. She nodded curtly to him and he patted her on the hand. She resisted the urge to snatch it away and took a deep breath. Patience, she told herself.
The priest strode to the dais, and a hush spread over the room. He stood below a gigantic round window at the front of the temple, his hands together in prayer. All at once, the three dragons that were depicted in the glass came to life and swirled around each other in a turbulent whirlwind. The priest could be heard intoning the homage to the Three and they circled tighter and tighter.
The priest threw up his hands and the dragons burst forth from the image, their suddenly very real wings creating a violent tornado of wind around him. He stood steadfast within its maelstrom, and then turned towards the congregation with a look of pure bliss upon his upturned face as his robes flapped wildly around him.
The three dragons merged their twisting forms together and manifested once more as the single gaping maw of the Sleeping God. Flames poured out of His mouth towards the priest, enveloping him and licking at the air around him. Several gasps could be heard and Jezebel peered around curiously to see who it was. Clearly they didn't spend much time coming to the services if they weren't accustomed to this display of the god's power. It symbolized the cleansing of the world and of the priest so that he was ready to pass on the Word. The fire died down and the shape divided, leaving the three dragons to resume their former positions within the picture which slowly dimmed to become simple glass once more.
“Welcome!” boomed the priest, and he launched immediately into his sermon on preparing for the awakening of the Sleeping God.
Jezebel's attention soon wandered. She didn't need a priest to tell her how to prepare for the god; she was ready for Him now.
She found it hard not to fidget, and couldn't stop her finger from tapping incessantly as the priest rambled on. Devon has been working on this project for weeks now, or is it months? I've lost track. The time to act was upon them.
She had been biding her time to work herself into a position of real power, and recently she’d learned that King Edward's untimely demise may have presented her with a unique opportunity to do just this. She had known already, of course, about his little accident: He had gone riding last week and come back dead upon his horse. It had been the hottest topic of conversation in court, with rumors circulating about the possibility of foul play. The hunting party with him claimed that they had seen nothing untoward, however, saying that he had simply collapsed in his saddle in the excitement of the chase. The healers eventually declared the cause of death a weak and overextended heart, and it was determined to be nothing more than a tragic accident. Jezebel had her own suspicions, but that was another matter.
The part that now interested her was what she had gleaned during a luncheon with her cousin the other day. Because King Edward's unfortunate passing had cut short his reign before he could fulfill his duty and produce an heir, it apparently left the Council responsible for choosing the new ruler. Consequently, the entire Council would then be subjected to a vote to renew their position or be replaced. Having all six Council seats up for grabs would greatly increase Jezebel’s chances of gaining one, and could finally put her into a position of authority that she so dearly craved. And so deserve. With her father's influence backing her, Jezebel would have been sure to be voted into one of them. But since he was being difficult and withholding that support, she would have to use…other means.
The outcome of Devon’s operation could potentially solve this little dilemma for her, and he had recently found a new contact. There had only been rumors reported so far, but if even a small portion of what the rumors contained was true...
She stole a glance at her father, and bit back a scowl. She did so hope that it proved fruitful.