Galen blurted out, “We're applicants. Like her!” He pointed to Myra. “We're all here to test!”
The woman gestured to another priest behind her.
He strode up, holding a scroll before him. He asked in a low voice, “Your names and places of origin?”
“Galen Somers, Gusset Elburn, and Plaice Nilles,” Galen rushed to explain. “We just arrived from Darron's Bay. Myra is my sister.”
The woman turned to the priest behind her. He scanned the scroll for a moment, then nodded and said, “Their testing was paid for at the sanctuary in Darron's Bay.”
She smiled. “Welcome, boys. I'm High Priestess Syosset. You're lucky that you arrived just now. Otherwise, you would have had to come back next month. The wait can be difficult for the young.” She studied Galen's eyes, then moved onto Gusset, then Plaice. In that one instant, Galen saw a mix of compassion and razor-sharp perception. He suspected that she could worm the truth out of a rock.
The priest with the scroll handed her three chains with the attached miniature jeweled goblets. “Wear these. If you're feeling any discomfort due to the Longing, these should help. And they are instrumental in the testing. I'm sorry that I don't have time to explain the process to you, but we must begin. Don't worry. It's very simple. Please, take your places at the end.” She gestured to the end of the line of candidates. As Syosset moved to consult with the other priests, Gusset and Galen placed the chains around their necks and shuffled into line.
Plaice brought his goblet up to his eye. “Nope. Not a good one.”
“What do you mean? Your token is bad? How can you tell? Aren’t they all the same?” asked Galen, examining his own small goblet.
“I swear some are more sensitive than others. They give the good ones to the applicants they like.” He looked at the head of the line. “The ones at the front. Time for my plan.”
While the priests met and were distracted, Plaice walked to the other end of the stage and pushed himself into a space next to the first girl in line. She was young, perhaps eight years old, and nervous. He held out his token and demanded she switch with him. The girl appeared surprised and confused, but when Plaice insisted twice more, she finally acquiesced. Perhaps she was intimidated. Or maybe she just wanted to quiet him.
Beaming, Plaice stayed right next to her, second in line.
“Why can't Plaice just get in line and test like everyone else?” asked Gusset.
“As the son of a priest, he thinks that becoming a priest is his birthright, but he keeps failing, so there has to be a reason. His token is bad. His place in line is too far back. Who knows?”
“Maybe he just doesn’t have the calling?”
Galen nodded. “But that’s not acceptable—not with Aunt Hester as his mother. She’s too used to having a priest in the family, so she keeps sending him out to test. But this ‘plan’ of his? Seems like the opposite of what you should do at Charity.”
Syosset strode to the center of the platform and raised her hands. At the motion, the crowd hushed. “In the beginning,” Syosset projected out to the crowd, “the world was ruled with iron and steel. The weak were prey to the strong. The powerless perished, the hungry starved, and the sick decayed because no one would help them. This was a world of death. This was a world without Charity.
“The goddess heard their cries and did what came naturally: she gave of herself. She placed a portion of her own essence into a Gift and sent it among us. Through this Gift, she called her chosen, who came and devoted themselves to her service. They did her bidding. They enacted her plan. With her power and wisdom, they healed the sick, they fed the hungry, and they gave hope to the hopeless.
“To this day, Charity asks the pure of heart to serve her. They hear Charity's call and are drawn here, to her Gift. They are the chosen.” Syosset swept her hand to indicate the children behind her. A loud cheer erupted from the crowd.
Syosset continued, “Some mistake natural compassion for Charity's call. While such a trait is to be praised, it is not enough. To ensure that only those that Charity has chosen serve her, we test all those who are called.” Syosset addressed the line of children. “Please step forward, Lessa.”
The young girl at the head of the line walked to the center of the platform. Syosset gestured to a priest who strode forward holding a jug. Syosset locked gazes with Lessa. She was shaking. “Child, do you truly believe that you have been chosen to do Charity's work?”
Lessa stammered, “Ye… yes.” Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Do you feel Charity's call?” Syosset asked.
Lessa nodded, gaining confidence. “Yes I do, if you please.”
Syosset said, “Where is Charity's Gift?”
The girl’s hand inched up to point to the top of the tower. “It's there. Up there. I think.”
“Good. Now hold out your cup, child.”
Lessa held out the tiny cup in both hands. Syosset nodded to the priest, and he poured a thick black liquid into it. “Concentrate. Feel your connection to the Gift through the cup.”
The girl closed her eyes. Her trembling ceased, but her hands gripped the cup with intensity. Galen noticed a spark of light emerge from the white gem peeking through her small fingers. Syosset smiled as if she noticed it too. “Now drink, child.”
Lessa looked down into her cup and her eyes widened. She grinned, then tilted the cup to her lips and swallowed. Galen flinched. He could not imagine drinking the vile liquid the priest poured from the jug. Perhaps that was the test, to see if someone wanted to join Charity so badly that they would drink it.
Syosset hugged Lessa with genuine warmth. “Welcome, my child. You are now Lessa, priestess of Charity. You have found your calling.” Syosset pivoted Lessa towards the cheering crowd. Lessa beamed, tears running down her cheeks—tears of joy.
Once the noise had subsided and Lessa had been escorted from the platform, Syosset called up the next applicant and frowned. It was Plaice.
He appeared a little confused during Lessa’s success, but walked forward with confidence. In fact, he answered Syosset's questions with a touch of arrogance. When Syosset asked for the location of Charity's Gift, he pointed upward without a moment's hesitation. Syosset scowled, but then gestured for the priest to fill Plaice's goblet with the black liquid. “Concentrate, Plaice. Focus Charity's call through the cup.”
For the first time, Plaice looked a little uneasy. He strangled the cup with his hands. Veins popped out of his forehead with the force of his concentration. After a moment, Syosset said, “Drink.”
Plaice stared down into the cup, then looked up in question at Syosset, but found a steely, unforgiving gaze there. He lifted the cup to his lips, sipped, and spat out the black liquid toward the crowd. “This is ink! I won't drink ink! What kind of religion is this?”
“Not yours, I regret, Plaice,” said Syosset. “You may leave.”
Once the priest removed the chain from around the boy's neck, Plaice glared at Galen, stormed off of the platform, and melted into the silent crowd. Some watched him with sorrow, others with pity, most with loathing. In many people's minds, there was nothing worse than one of the faithless trying to pass himself off as chosen. Carnaubas' words echoed in his head—in your mind, you can’t possibly be just a stupid fisherman’s kid, right? So you pretend you’re better than everyone—but Galen pushed the doubt down. He felt for Plaice, but he didn't want thoughts of failure to affect his own chances.