Abruptly, he was aware that the kai was looking directly at him as she washed her hands in the clear waters from the basin. She dried them with the white cloth, but instead of moving to the next phase of the ritual cleansing, she turned and came across to him.

“Eminence?”

“Ask me,” she said quietly, pitching her words so that only the two of them could hear what she was saying. “Go on, Osen. Give voice to the question that has been stuck in your throat since last night.”

It would have done him no good to feign ignorance; Meressa was perhaps the most intelligent, most compassionate, certainly one of the most insightful people he had ever met. Any thought of politely deflecting her question faded, and he let out a thin sigh. “Eminence, why are you doing this? You are about to usher an alien into the presence of the Prophets! And you have ignored Vedek Cotor’s rightful concerns over such an action!”

She nodded. “I have indeed, my young friend. And shall I tell you why?”

He straightened. “You are kai. You do not have to explain your decisions to a mere prylar if you do not wish to.”

“But I do, Osen, and I will.” She touched him on the arm, and her hand was cold from the chilly water that fed the basins from the spring beneath the monastery. “You are a little like Cotor. You are clever, but you are also afraid. You have never stood in the presence of a Tear.”

“I have not yet had that honor,” Gar husked.

“Part of you longs for that moment, and part of you is terrified of the prospect of it, yes?” He nodded woodenly, and she continued. “As was I.” The kai smiled. “And, perhaps, you are jealous of Hadlo? You wish it were you?”

Gar felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Yes. I do, Eminence,” he admitted. “I know I should rise above such things.”

“You are only mortal. And there willcome a time when Gar Osen will stand before the ark in that chamber. But not today.” Her hand dropped away. “I will confide in you, because before I do this I feel as if I must.”

“But…the ritual…”

Meressa silenced him with a gesture. “Rites and prayers are only frames for our faith in the Prophets. Truth is what they ask from us, Osen, truth and love. I have always been one to test the hidebound ways of our church to stop us from becoming parochial. That is why the Vedek Assembly has Cotor here to watch me. I vex them with the choices I make and the things that I do.” She studied him. “They ask me why I have an untested prylar from a provincial city on my staff.” Meressa glanced at Arin, who stood watching the Cardassians. “They ask me why I overlooked my ranjen’s dalliances with illicit substances and rescued him from the ignominy of a colonial posting. And now they will ask me why I hold out friendship to these aliens and offer them the chance to walk our path.” The kai leaned close to him. “It is because I sense the future. The Prophets gave me insight, and I feel it coming. I am certain that only through leaps of faith, through trust, can we progress.”

All at once Gar’s breath caught in his throat as he realized what Meressa was telling him. “Eminence, no! You must say no more! You cannot speak of it!”

But she kept talking, and Gar couldn’t turn away. “The pagh’tem’far.The sacred vision granted by the Prophets. When I first encountered an Orb, they showed me such sights…” Her vision became hazy, and Gar knew she was seeing that moment again in her thoughts. “Such images and sensations that it will take me a lifetime to meditate on the meaning of them all. But I recall one thing with clarity. One moment with such sharpness that it burns inside me still.”

“You must not,” Gar managed. “The visions gifted by the Tears are for those alone who experience them, not for others. You must not tell me.”

She smiled gently. “I think the Prophets will not mind this once. If it convinces you that I am right, then they will not be upset by it.” Meressa gazed into his eyes. “I saw a future yet to come. The Celestial Temple revealing itself, and in the heavens above, a giant’s iron crown floating among the stars. I glimpsed an age of unity for Bajor, all of it stemming from one moment. The arrival of those not of our world, but also connected to it. An alien who is no alien.”

Gar swallowed hard. “And…and you believe that these Cardassians could be these offworlders the Prophets showed you?”

“I cannot be certain. That is why they are here. The Orb of Truth will answer that question.” She was silent for a moment. “Now do you see?”

The prylar felt rooted to the spot. That the kai herself had trusted him with her personal insight—it was a heady sensation. He nodded, unable to frame an answer, and she left him there pondering her words.

Bennek’s fingers were light on Hadlo’s shoulder. The Cardassian turned to face his junior and saw the worry there on his face. “What is it?”

“I question this,” said the young cleric. “You have no idea what they expect of you, of us. We know so little of their ways…”

Hadlo smiled slightly. “What are you afraid of, Bennek? Do you think they will drink my blood or brainwash me? It is a temple, nothing more. They will show me their great and holy relic, and I will give it the reverence it deserves, and then we will move on to matters of greater import.”

Bennek spoke in a whisper as Hadlo used the linen to dry his hands. “You meant everything you said to them, all this talk of enclaves?”

“I did,” he replied. “We must look to all possible outcomes. We will forge a friendship with these people, but with one eye toward Cardassia. If the Detapa Council attempts to expunge us, a place to find sanctuary with sympathetic souls would be of great use.”

Bennek was about to say more, but then the kai approached him. “Hadlo,” she said, offering him her hand. “Are you prepared?”

“I suppose I am,” he told her. “Is there anything I should say or do once we enter the shrine?”

She smiled warmly at him. “Open your heart and your mind. The Prophets will do the rest.”

The doors closed behind them with a solid, heavy thump, and Hadlo’s fixed smile faltered a little. The realization came upon him in an instant; what if Bennek’s concerns were justified? The cleric had a point—the Oralians really didn’t know much about the ways of the Bajoran church. What if Meressa asked him to do something strange, something unholy?

Hadlo clamped down on that line of thinking, rejecting it as foolish; but the nagging voice in his head would not be silenced.

“This way,” said the kai, leading him forward.

Inside, the shrine chamber was circular, with walls that vanished away toward a ceiling covered with intricate murals of alien figures, great oceans of stars, and unfamiliar landscapes. There were freestanding walls twice the height of a man ringing the center of the shrine, spaced at regular intervals. As they moved around them, the Cardassian glimpsed a shallow dais and upon it a wooden box. A honey-colored light seeped from the container, spilling out across the room. He noted that Meressa did not at any moment look in the direction of the box.

She drew to a halt in the shadow of one of the barriers and indicated the dais with a sweep of her robed arm. “I will go no further,” said the kai. “This is the pagh’tem’far.This moment belongs to you alone, Hadlo. Step to the ark and look within.”

He felt his throat become arid. “What…what will happen?”

Meressa bowed her head. “You will look into the Tear, and the Tear will look into you.”

Hesitantly, Hadlo stepped through the gap between two of the walls and into the very heart of the Kendra Shrine. He saw the box more clearly now, what Meressa had termed the “ark.” The container was made of old wood, polished smooth by the action of thousands of fingers upon its surface. Complex Bajoran ideograms decorated the edges, illuminated in the soft yellow-green glow from within. Through misted oval lenses in the sides of the ark, Hadlo defined the shape of something infinitely complex, turning and shimmering.