Season Content Notes:

It was late when Iberto, Called of the Great Goddess, led his companions onto the grounds of the High Temple. Iberto had set out several weeks ago to hunt down someone suited to be Called to the Scaled One, the Keeper of Balance. He returned with the result of his hunt — a merchant named Irene who had led him on a chase across several cities. He returned also with two minstrels. The younger, Soren, was tied to one of the goddes, though Iberto did not know yet which one. The older, Amir, was tied to Iberto, and Iberto thought — hoped — he might make a fitting offering for the Great Goddess.

When they arrived, the monks were in their quarters for the most part. Only a few stayed out this late. One of them immediately rushed off to inform someone else of the party the hunt-called had entered with. Iberto didn’t bother to give chase. Destroying the monks would be a long hunt and needed careful planning. For now, it was time to present Irene to the Scaled One Who Keeps Balance.

Iberto had kept The Great Goddess aware of their progress, and she, in turn, had informed the other goddes. The Scaled One awaited them in the main sanctuary.

As soon as they entered, Irene saw the godde and gasped.

“Hunt-called,” the godde said, “You honor me with your offering.”

Iberto bowed and nudged Irene forward. “Scaled One, this is Irene Senchal, one who keeps balance.”

He sensed the confusion of the two minstrels, who could not see the godde, but focused on Irene.

Irene took a step forward, shock and awe both clear in her wrinkled features. “I was unaware of which godde I would be presented to. I am honored.” She took another step forward and another until she stood at the altar.

“Scaled One Who Keeps Balance, I give you my ledger. I give you my debts and my profits. I give you my name. Call my name so that I may serve you.” She took a writing charcoal from her bag and wrote her name on the great altar.

As they had been speaking, the other goddes and their called had been filing into the room, coming in witness of the new call.

The Scaled One hissed in pleasure and replied, “I call you, Irene Senchal, to my service.”

The letters of Irene’s name glowed briefly, lighting up the dark room, and the minstrels gasped as, for that brief moment, they were able to see the Scaled One. Then, the light dimmed and disappeared, leaving the room dark again.

The Called of the Balance stared around the room in awe. She blinked back tears as she saw for the first time all the goddes who had gathered to witness her calling, then turned to Iberto. “Thank you. This is truly a debt I can never repay.”

Iberto smiled. “You would be the one to know best.”

Off to the side, the minstrel Soren was no longer looking at the balance-called, but stared instead at the Word-weaver, and Iberto could see clearly the tie binding the minstrel to his goddess.

Iberto looked at balance-called and smiled. “That I would not have expected. He did not strike me as a poet.”

The Great Goddess laughed, and Amir jumped, looking around. “Who was that?” he demanded.

The Called of the Scaled One chuckled softly, then looked around the room to see the many goddes and their few called departing. She pulled Iberto into a quick hug, surprising the hunt-called. “We will talk more later, my friend,” she said, then turned with a brilliant smile and left the room also, the Scaled One, still in their statue form, at her heels.

Not far behind them, Soren and the Word-Weaver left together. Soren had not been called yet, but Iberto sensed it would not be long before they were gathered to witness that calling.

Soon, the room was mostly empty, and the Great Goddess was ready also to depart. Iberto took Amir’s arm and guided him through the temple to the small altar room dedicated to the Great Goddess alone.

The room was still a shambles, with furniture and decorations overturned, broken, and scattered in the many training- and play-fights Iberto had shared with the goddess. Iberto scowled to see it unchanged and untended after his long absence. In theory, the monks should be tending to those goddes who did not have a priesthood. In reality, no surviving godde had more than a token priesthood, and the monks were the ones driving them to destruction.

Amir looked around the room in confusion and distaste but dismissed it quickly. “I… don’t understand,” he said. “What happened in there? Who was Soren talking to? Where did that laughter come from?”

Iberto frowned. “You hear, but you do not see. Close your eyes then, and listen.”

The Great Goddess, lying on the couch which was the sole surviving furniture in the room, nodded her approval. “Why do you bring this one here?” she asked, “He is not one of mine.”

“And yet,” Iberto said, “He is one who hunts. He is… possibility.”

“Why are you here?” the goddess asked the minstrel.

“I want answers,” the Amir said, keeping his eyes closed, trying to hide his fear. The hunt-sense had risen in both Iberto and the Great Goddess, and like most humans, the minstrel felt the danger he was in.

“So you do hunt,” she said, humming with pleasure. “But have you been prey?”

The question startled Amir, and he opened his eyes. He gasped at the sight of the living statue before him. The goddess.

He struggled to recall her question. “No. I mean. Not really. Minstrels are harassed, not hunted.”

The goddess stood and circled them, pleased also to see that this one did not seek to hide behind her Iberto but stood firm under her scrutiny. She had not thought to find such as this yet. Her goal had been first to refill the ranks of the called. But this one was not suited to be called, no ties to any of the goddes even half strong enough for such. He did, however, have a tie to her Iberto. Not a strong one, born perhaps of comradeship on their journey.

But she could see that they understood each other in that way humans sometimes do when there is something fundamental shared between them. It might well be that what they shared was the hunt, that in time, this possibility could build a connection to her as well.

She looked to Iberto. “You know my will. He must be prey as well as predator. And he must come willingly.”

Iberto, her canny, cunning one — oh, she chose well when she called him — smiled. “What prey is greater than that you hunt yourself?”

She smiled back. “Just so.”

The Great Goddess turned back to the minstrel and saw him swallow. But that was the only sign of his fear. “You will have your answers,” she assured him. “My Iberto favors you, and that wins you my favor. How you get your answers — that we will determine.”

She let her body go, felt herself twist and shift until she fell to the ground on four paws, each with four razor-sharp claws.

“What path will you take for your answers, my prey?”

Amir took a step back, and she mirrored him. “Yes, my prey — if I catch you within the temple bounds, you will be mine. If you escape, I will let you go free and never hunt you again.”

The minstrel paled and stepped back again, hand reaching for a weapon he didn’t have.

With a laugh, Iberto flung himself at his goddess, using momentum to roll her over. “Run, my friend,” he called as he took hold of her head and neck, ‘immobilizing’ her for a moment.

The minstrel listened.

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