The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

Chapter 130: That Blinding Golden Light

Golden light blazed from the altar, blinding everyone who could see it. Since I'd designed the Temple to have a clear line of sight from the front doors all the way to the back of the main hall, and since Katu was standing right in front of the wide-open doors, that meant all the ex-rioters. Gasps and shrieks rose from the crowd, accompanied by a wails from those who'd been unlucky – or lucky – enough to be staring at the altar when it lit up like a star sprite showing off.

Heedless of her skirt, Anthea dropped to her knees at the very first twinkle. Lodia, too, prostrated herself so fast that she left me hanging midair for an instant, before I caught myself, found a perch on a side table, and executed a perfect sparrow's bow. Why not on the floor? The higher vantage point gave me a view of both the altar and the front doors. Also, I wouldn't get trampled by accident. Plus the priests had been tromping in and out with refreshments, so the floor was pretty dirty and I didn't want to besmirch my feathers.

"Well, well, well, my children," boomed a voice from the heart of the brilliant light. I expected it to dim to reveal the figure of the Kitchen God, but it continued to blind everyone. Perhaps the god deemed these worshippers too lowly to see his divine self. "What have we here?"

Not the most original of lines, but backed by that Heavenly radiance, it didn't need to be. Tardily realizing that they were in the presence of the divine, the ex-rioters fell over themselves groveling before it.

Katu, on the other hand, imitated Anthea's pose, kneeling and bowing his head. From the venomous glare she shot his way, she took that as her personal poet setting himself up as her equal before her patron god. Personally, I thought it made perfect sense for the High Priest, the Voice of the Divine Intercessor, to be a little less prostrate than common worshippers.

After a moment, Anthea and Katu realized that the Kitchen God had asked a question, and that it might not be all rhetorical.

"Heavenly Lord – " she began, at the same time that he said, "O Divine Intercessor – "

Katu stopped, deferring to his patron and social superior. That would never do.

When Anthea attempted to keep speaking, I plastered myself across her mouth. Let him talk! Is your pride more important than establishing the credentials of the High Priest?

"Mmmph!" Anthea pried me off her face, made a convulsive gesture as if she were about to fling me aside – which would have killed me when I hit the wall or floor – but in the end, she settled for dumping me back on the side table.

I waved a somewhat rumpled wing at Katu for him to continue.

He'd followed our scuffle with dismay, but he obediently cleared his throat and addressed the Kitchen God once more. "O Divine Intercessor, O Prince of the Hearth, ye who watches over all on Earth, hear our prayer! Hear the cries of the poor, the weak, the hungry – the pleas of those abandoned, left behind, trampled underfoot. Save us from the demon horde!"

The golden light pulsed, shooting rays throughout the Temple and out the doors and windows. Everywhere, dazzled new devotees shouted their awe.

It wasn't actually any kind of promise on the Kitchen God's part, but Katu and the others interpreted it as such. "Thank you, O Divine Intercessor! Your mercy is endless. Your compassion is infinite." And here, he, too, prostrated himself.

Ex-rioters who'd begun to raise their torsos, either out of a desire to get a better view of what was going on or simply out of discomfort, flattened them again.