Meressa smiled, her face lit with amusement. “Ah, I think the monks at Kiessa might take umbrage at that statement. They like to think that they lay claim to that status.” She halted at a hexagonal table in the middle of the chamber. Lined in wood and cut from local red stone, the broad desk presented a reading screen and an ornate crystal keyboard. “This device is a stand-alone database of all known writings, protected and preserved. As Minister Jas has often bragged, if you cannot find what you wish to read in its written incarnation, you will likely find it in a virtual one stored here.” She patted the table. “But, as Vedek Cotor notes, we believe it is important that we preserve as much of our written culture as we can in its original form.”
Bennek nodded. “The Oralian Way shares that sentiment, Your Eminence. If no substance of a faith remains, then it may become like smoke on the wind.”
Hadlo frowned briefly at the younger cleric’s words before continuing. “Forgive my companion if he speaks with more drama than is necessary. Esteemed Kai, I would very much like to hear more about the Kendra monastery, and of the tenets of your faith.” He paused. “During the meal, I heard the young prylar speaking of a pagh.You used that word during the ceremony for the lost in the courtyard…”
Meressa glanced at Gar. “Osen? Why don’t you explain the term to our visitors?”
Gar swallowed hard; he hadn’t been expecting to take a direct part in any of the discussions. “Of course, Eminence.” He cleared his throat and touched a hand to his ear, where his D’jarrasignet dangled. “The paghis the name we give to the elemental life force of all living things. It is the ephemeral energy of the soul, the source from which we draw our strength and our courage. Our will to live, if you like.”
“Your spirit, then,” said Bennek.
“Correct. In our faith, we conceive the paghas a flame, a candle that is set burning by the Prophets in the Celestial Temple at the moment of our birth. At times of great hardship that flame may burn low, it may even be snuffed out if death claims us unexpectedly. But we believe that through our faith in the Prophets, they sustain us, replenishing our paghthrough their love.” He touched his bare left ear. “The light of that energy blooms through our flesh here.”
“Fascinating,” said the Cardassian. He raised his hands to his face. “In the patterns of the Way, we see the blessings of Oralius in a similar fashion. Her eternal strength flows through us and keeps us strong. We don masks to symbolize our union with her, and the energies that animate us…like your pagh.”
Hadlo nodded sagely. “And like all things, it can turn to light or to darkness. It is the duty of the Oralian Way to show our people the road into the light.” Gar saw a new understanding bloom on the alien’s face. “Kai Meressa, it is our belief that Oralius plots a path for every one of us, for a greater fate than we may know. At this moment, I feel as if I am on the verge of a revelation!” The old man’s voice rose. “Yes. This journey here to Bajor, our meeting. It is her will.”
Cotor smiled. “Then perhaps too it is the will of the Prophets that we are here to greet you, Hadlo.”
The elder cleric’s eyes glittered. “This simple moment…five souls in a chamber steeped in history…My friends, dare we think on the import of such a thing?” He stepped forward and touched Meressa on the arm, and she returned the gesture. “We reach out and find kindred spirits among those not of our world. What does this tell us?”
Gar’s mouth went dry; it was difficult not to be caught up by the quiet potency of the Cardassian’s words. He understood at once how the old man had risen to such high office in his faith—there was a way about Hadlo, a sagacious, metered passion that made one want to listen to his words.
The kai showed the same enthusiasm. “It tells us that barriers of species and distance cannot deny the simple truths of existence.”
“Yes! Yes!” Hadlo’s face split in a grin. “My friends, we share the same path! We can learn so much from one another. The Way of Oralius, the road of your Prophets…What if they are intertwined?”
Gar glanced at Bennek. The younger Cardassian was muted, his face the mirror of Osen’s. It was hard to know what to make of the conversation unfolding before them. Both the priests were wary, and yet they were both daring to hope that Hadlo could be correct. To find aliens who shared a belief system that echoed their own—the theological implications were simply staggering.
Meressa nodded. “Hadlo, you must come to the monastery at Kendra. I will see to it, and there you shall put this question to the Prophets themselves.”
Shock unfolded on Vedek Cotor’s face. “Eminence! You are not suggesting that—”
She cut him off with a look, and Gar realized what she was about to suggest. He too wanted to protest, but words failed him. The prylar hesitated, trying to find a way to frame his objection, and found none.
“If your Way truly does parallel the path of the Prophets, then there is a manner in which we can be sure. At the monastery we hold in honor a most sacred artifact, one of many that the Celestial Temple has seen fit to grant us over the centuries.” At Hadlo’s quizzical look she indicated an image cut into a stained-glass window at the far end of the chamber. “A Tear of the Prophets. A sacred Orb sent by them to guide us in our lives.”
The Cardassians looked up to see the hourglass shape set amid an image that showed the Celestial Temple opening in the heavens and the Tear falling toward Bajor, toward the open hands of a man in the robes of a vedek. Gar felt a peculiar tingle in his chest at the thought of laying eyes on the real thing. The Tears were the physical manifestation of the Prophets, and to be in the presence of one was to touch the aura of gods.
“Eminence,” said Cotor, “you know as well as I that any encounter must be deliberated and ratified by the Vedek Assembly! With all due respect to Hadlo, I think they may be reluctant to allow an alien to enter the presence of the Orb of Truth!”
The kai glanced at him. “And will our visitors be content to remain for months while your fellow vedeks debate the matter over and over?” She shook her head. “No, Cotor. I exercise my right as Kai and I say this will happen.” The priestess spread her hands. “Hadlo is correct. Throughout the feast and through the night we have talked and seen the congruence between our faiths. I am not content to have it come to an end there, not when a chance to know the absolute truth is in our power.” She touched the old cleric’s arm. “I will see to this. Through the Tear, the Prophets will turn their gaze upon you and know you. The truth will be revealed.”
Hadlo returned the gesture. “Thank you…my sister.”
Bennek felt giddy and off balance. After the Bajorans left them in the keep’s sumptuous guest lodgings, he found he had to sit upon one of the wide loungers in the atrium between the chambers shared by the Oralians. Hadlo returned from speaking to the other members of their party and came to sit with him.
“Have…have you informed Gul Kell of the Kai’s invitation?” Bennek asked.
Hadlo shook his head. “I will speak to him tomorrow. I will notify him we will not be returning to the Kornaireon the shuttle.”
“This ‘orb’ the Bajorans spoke of…”
“Kell is faithless. He is a nonbeliever and he would not understand. I will simply tell him that the Bajorans have asked us to make a pilgrimage to the Kendra monastery, nothing more. That is not a lie.”
“It is not the whole truth, either,” Bennek insisted. “Master, I am uncertain about the swiftness with which this is progressing. Yes, I hoped, as we all did, that we might find some common ground with the Bajorans, but I hear you talk as if our faiths are like lost twins, and it…”