“This place is magnificent, Prylar,” Hadlo told him.

“You have truly been blessed by your Prophets.”

“This is one of many places dedicated to our faith,” said Gar. “Each province has a central monastery like this one, and several smaller temples and reclusia. Most of them are built on holy sites that date back to before our recorded history.”

“Incredible,” breathed Bennek. The other priest was lost in the scope of the building, pausing to study every tiny detail of the decorations and opulent hangings inside each alcove.

A question came quickly to Gar’s lips. “Do you have similar places of devotion on Cardassia?”

A shadow passed over Bennek’s face, and Gar immediately regretted asking. Hadlo patted the younger man on the arm. “Our faith…Once it was celebrated in places such as this one, but now we have no temples of such merit. Time and the will of secular men have taken them from us. These days, the Way spreads from tents and shanty towns, in caverns and basements. It is no longer safe to praise Oralius in stone and mortar as well as in our flesh.”

Gar didn’t know what to say, and he hesitated, searching for the right words. The kai, her pleasant face fixed in an expression of deep compassion, came to his support. “Sometimes we forget how fortunate we are to have such things,” Meressa said to Gar, Cotor, and Arin. Arin was a ranjen, a theologist and one of the resident priests at the monastery, and he had joined the group on their walking tour of the grounds. “We should thank our Cardassian brothers for reminding us of that.” She looked to Hadlo. “I hope you will not think ill of me to say it, but I have always felt that a place of worship is as sacred as one wishes it to be. It need not be built of stone and iron. It need not even be a place with walls and roof…” She tapped her chest. “The heart is the grandest temple of all.”

“You are quite correct,” said Hadlo, some of the grimness leaving his face. “Would that all my kinsmen had such clarity of insight.” The alien glanced back at Gar. “Please, Prylar, do continue. I wish to know more.”

Meressa gave him a nod of assurance, and Gar licked his lips. “Certainly. Well, uh, the monastery here at Kendra has just over a thousand clerics in residence at any one time, some of them on retreats from other parishes, some taking part in missions of faith, some of them serving as fulltime staff. We have a mix of lower-ranked prylars such as myself, along with more senior ranjens and vedeks…” He jutted his chin at Arin and Cotor, who both nodded back. “Many come to take meditative walks along the Sahving Valley.” Gar paused by a window and pointed out into the clear day; in the middle distance, the mouth of the grassy vale was visible. “Others come to study our library, as we discussed in the keep. There’s also the Whispering Hall…”

Arin made a noise of assent. “Many scholars have said the hall is the most spiritual place on Bajor. There is a peace there that few other reclusia can match.”

“Indeed,” said Cotor. “And of course, there is the Kendra Shrine.” He gestured toward the end of the long, wide cloister. An oval doorway stood before them, the doors cut from a dark, dense wood and decorated with lines of thick latinum. The large entrance allowed passage to the shrine proper, and around it there were smaller doors of normal dimensions. Through these, pilgrims of certain piety could enter smaller prayer chambers with only a single stone wall between them and the monastery’s most holy of holies, the Orb of Truth.

Gar felt a tingling in the soles of his feet as he walked closer, an electric sensation, a vertiginous rush as if he were approaching the edge of a steep, sheer cliff.

Bennek was pointing at the doors. “I have a question.” He made an oval shape in the air before him. “The symbol of the nested ellipses and circle appears again and again in your society, and not just in your religion. I have seen it on insignia, on the uniforms of your Militia. What does it mean?”

“It is the unity of Bajoran existence, my friend,” began the kai warmly. She indicated the etchings cut into the shrine door. “The circle at the lowest level represents the world of Bajor, her people, and, in a greater sense, all that is corporeal. The first oval that envelops the circle and extends above it is the universe around us, all that lies beyond Bajor. The last oval, the largest, which surrounds the other two shapes, symbolizes the Prophets. It signifies the place they have in our lives, watching over everything, knowing all, protecting and nurturing us.”

“And the line?” Bennek traced the column that rose from the crest of the circle, bisecting the two larger ovals.

“What does that mean?”

“It is the pathway that unites all: Bajor and her children, the universe and the Prophets.”

The Cardassian’s brow wrinkled. “I see that. But why then does the pathway extend beyond the realm of the Prophets?” He indicated the top of the doors, to where the rising line emerged alone.

Meressa smiled. “That, Bennek, is the gateway to the unknown, the unfinished road. It represents our eternal quest for knowledge and understanding.”

“Fascinating,” murmured Hadlo. “Your Eminence, what I have seen here today brings me to a single conclusion.” He glanced at the Bajoran monk. “Prylar Gar spoke of ‘missions of faith,’ and after your warm reception I find myself compelled to make a most serious request of you and your church.”

The kai’s expression was neutral, but Gar felt a thrill of anxiety. “Go on, brother. We will hear what you wish to say.”

The Cardassian cleric’s fingers knitted together and he gazed at the Bajorans one by one; but as he spoke, the prylar couldn’t help but notice that Bennek’s face had turned rigid and stony, as if the younger cleric were afraid to utter a word. “I am flattered you would call me brother, Kai Meressa,” continued Hadlo. “And in that spirit, I would humbly make entreaty to Bajor. I ask your formal permission for the Oralian Way to establish an enclave on your world.”

“An enclave?” Arin echoed. “You wish to build a church here?”

“Not exactly.” Hadlo shook his head. “An embassy, of a kind. A theological legation from which my fellow Oralians can come forth to learn from your scholars and seek the connections between our two faiths.” He sighed. “There is so little opportunity for such reflection and contemplation on Cardassia Prime. But this world? I have rarely found a place so open to spirituality.”

“The Vedek Assembly will have to be consulted,” Cotor said quickly, speaking before the kai had a chance to reply. There was open misgiving in his manner. “To grant a place for an alien credo on our soil…There is no precedent for such a thing.”

Meressa sniffed in mild derision. “The Prophets are not so venial or so weak as to be afraid of another man’s view of the universe. They welcome the challenge of new ideas. I would hope the Vedek Assembly would not do the opposite.”

“It is a serious request, Eminence,” Cotor pressed.

Hadlo hesitated. “Please, I do not mean to be the cause of dissent—”

“You are not,” said the kai firmly, “and I will see to it that your appeal goes forward with my backing.”

Hadlo bowed. “Thank you, Eminence. I firmly believe the coming together of our faiths heralds great things.”

“I know it,” Meressa replied, with quiet honesty. “And if you will come with me, Hadlo, I hope to show you why.” The group crossed a line of golden tiles set in the marble floor of the cloister, to a series of stone basins on the outer walls of the great shrine. Temple servants were there holding bolts of white linen, and with automatic reverence Gar and Arin backed away. Arin, as a ranjen and a rank higher, took one step back while the prylar took two. Gar’s fingers curled into his palms, and he fought to push down the nervous energy coiling in his chest. To be so close to the shrine and yet be unable to go any further—it filled the young priest with conflicting emotions that were hard to separate.