Army of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 2) (8 page)

“Phase One, consisting of installing one new unit per one hundred adult residents is fifty percent complete. We expect completion of the project during the first week of Quadrember. Unfortunately, the greatest delay in the project is due to a shortage of labor to manufacture the communits.” Osander stood with his shoulders back, dark eyes intense as he addressed the Protectress and Head-of-Council. Mark's penetrating demeanor was accentuated by his sable hair and copper complexion.

“Do we have access to current service numbers,” Antonette Lelle questioned. The distribution of workers listed in active service was monitored by Regional Service Coordinator Ministers, who assigned available volunteers to open positions by priority of the service and experience of the individuals.

“Upon request, I received reports from Westland and Northland,” Osander presented, retrieving the appropriate papers from his desk. “Each of those regions has already committed all available volunteers to the manufacturing process. Currently, we lack experienced technical personnel. Westland is offering training courses in the skills required and encouraging interested parties to apply. The training takes approximately six weeks.”

“Thank you, Westland,” the Protectress praised. “Councilors, I recommend you promote similar institutions elsewhere. As I've already expressed, the need for immediate communication has increased ten-fold due to recent circumstances. Could we also encourage an abbreviated course? Three weeks instead of six?”

Nods acknowledged the request, and a few grumbles surfaced from one or two members chastising their slow-to-respond service ministries. Various hands scribbled comments in notebooks.

Sara Sunsun rose to her feet, “I might point out, Your Honors, that with spring planting in progress, Northland has chosen to redistribute service volunteers to increase the size of our fields and orchards. We are creating a similar technical program to begin in Quadrember once first planting is complete.”

“Thank you, Councilor Sunsun.” Head-of-Council Lelle accepted the explanation as another excuse why Northland remained behind the curve. Notably, however, neither the Eastland or Southland contingents put forth any words to the situation.

With a quiet sigh and pursed lips, Lelle continued. “Thank you for your report, Mr. Osander. Please let us know if there is any change in the expected completion date,” Lelle said. Referring to her order sheet with a brief glance, the Head-of-Council called for new business. “Thankfully, it's Matersday.”

The sentiment echoed throughout the chamber. Today was the final day of the work week. For the last three months, the members met three days a week every week, taking them away from home and family more than normal. “Keep in mind we will not meet again until Quadrember 4
^th
.”

Homer Spirton rose to take the floor. “Honorable Head-of-Council and Esteemed Matriarch, I have been asked by my constituents to broach a somewhat sensitive matter.”

A lump formed in Axandra's throat. She didn't even need remoting abilities to know the words about to come out of Homer's mouth. Rumors had circulated for weeks in several forms, but all with the same underlying negative tone. She held her breath in her upper lungs and sat rigid in her high-backed chair.

“Please go ahead,” Lelle prompted.

“Thank you. Since it has come to the public's attention that the Protectress was formerly possessed by one of the Stormflies and that she is, so far, the only person to survive the affliction, many citizens are concerned that the Honorable Protectress may be, even if unwittingly, providing the Stormflies with information that will allow the parasites to overcome us.” The announcement was visibly discomforting to Councilor Spirton, evidenced by the scowl deepening his jowls, the sag in his shoulders, and the failure to make solid eye contact.

A moment of awkward silence passed as the other councilors eyed one another across the room.

Axandra took the first opportunity to break the silence. “That is a legitimate concern, Councilor Spirton. While I can verbally assure you that my link with the creature has been completely severed, I understand my word may not be adequate.” She actually felt quite proud of herself to take control of the situation and sound sophisticated while doing so. She would not find any favor in throwing a tantrum in front of the full Council.

“Unfortunately, Your Honor, it is not,” Homer agreed with disappointment. He regretted having to bring the topic to light, but the councilors often experienced pressure from their constituents to broach unpleasant subjects.

“Then I would accept any test or challenge that would help prove that I am in no way assisting our enemy,” Axandra offered, a course she had decided upon after conferring with Head-of-Council Lelle when the speculations first arose. “When we meet again, I look forward to your proposals. If there is one thing I believe is vital to this role, it is the trust of the people.”

Antonette nodded as the Protectress finished her speech. “Thank you, Your Honor, for your words of modesty. We will make the date the 5
^th
Quadrember. Is that adequate?”

“Yes, Ma'am. Thank you. My apologies, Protectress,” Homer bowed. His own opinion held that the Esteemed lay beyond question, that her word was solid truth. He felt forced to make accusations he believed were unsubstantiated.

“There is no need for apology. If I were on the outside, I would be asking the same questions,” Axandra assured. “Is there any other new business?”

No one else spoke up. Adjourning the meeting, Antonette closed her order book. The gesture represented permission for the other councilors to depart. Discussions immediately began between members of regional contingents creating a jumble of voices. Some councilors escaped to the west, out the main doors to the rotunda. Osander checked his watch, scowled and sped quickly out as though late for another appointment.

Once the main doors opened, Suzanne, Sara's partner, peeked in searching for her lover. Since the Council began meeting so regularly, Suzanne decided to come with her spouse a few weeks ago, tired of being apart and worried because of all the talk about Stormfly incursions.

Sara waved Suzanne into the room while she stepped down the risers and moved in Axandra's direction. “Your Honor, would you be interested in joining us for lunch today? QE is still out in the fields, isn't he?”

“Actually, he returned home just before the meeting started,” Axandra told her friends, smirking again at the affectionate use of his initials as a nickname. “Are you planning on leaving for North Compass right away or are you staying through for the wedding?”

“We're staying through.” Sara said, her hand meeting Suzanne's at her side, belying the tension the pair felt about delaying their travel on the long open road north. Every week drew them closer to seemingly inevitable conflict with the Stormflies. But it was better to travel it once rather than twice.

“Let me ask him, and if we don't see you in a few minutes, we'll make plans for dinner tomorrow.”

“That would be fun,” Suzanne accepted. “We should do that instead.”

“Good idea. Tomorrow, Madam,” Sara agreed, her wavy brown hair shifting as she nodded.

The two women escaped as soon as Sara hung her cobalt blue robe on the assigned peg. Following close behind, a male intern collected the hanging robes for the laundry. Each robe would be cleaned and pressed before the councilors returned in a few weeks.

“Your Honor,” said Homer as he approached. He lingered hoping to be the last in the room. Axandra made a habit of waiting until the room cleared before attempting to leave. Almost daily, a councilor required her attention. He bowed, showing the top of his graying head where a tiny circle of baldness began to appear.

“Yes, Homer,” Axandra said in a friendly tone, hoping to reassure the man she did not hold any resentment against him for his motion.

“I wished to convey to you a promise that I will keep this matter as brief as possible. I hope it won't hinder our efforts to prepare for the inevitable.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” she accepted. “And don't fret. My feelings are not hurt by it. I am here to serve only as long as the people want me.”

“You are very forgiving,” Homer complimented. “Pleasant days to you until we meet again.”

“And to you. Have a safe trip home.”

Homer spun away and exited toward the office hallway, probably to tidy up before departing the city.

Now that the Council Chamber was empty, Axandra made her way out through the main doors into the Palace rotunda, past the trickling fountain and onto the main staircase. She noted the presence of councilors, interns, staff, and a group of visitors taking a tour of the building that housed the top level of government for the People of Bona Dea, namely the People's Council and the Protectress. The guide explained that with the council session over, they would have the opportunity to view the interior of the Council Chamber. The guide did not point out that the Protectress had just passed by, but the visitors didn't need such prompting to recognize her face and attire.

Reminding herself that, for the sake of her public image, the Protectress needed to remain visible and positive, Axandra turned to face the crowd, many of whom scampered over to the base of the staircase, leaving their guide flustered.

“My apologies, Esteemed Matriarch,” the guide said, hastily recapturing a place at the head of the pack. “If everyone will follow me.”

“It's no bother,” Axandra assured, assuming a cordial composure. “It's a pleasure to see visitors. I hope everyone is enjoying their time in Undun City.”

Mutterings across the group of twenty agreed they were. The faces of young and old looked upon her eagerly.

“Are you going to be visiting Southland again soon?” asked a man from the back of the crowd.

“At this time, I am not travelling. Unfortunately my recent injuries still require frequent medical attention and need adequate time to heal,” she answered. “I look forward to the time when I will be touring again.”

“Do you plan on having children?” asked an older woman with fading red hair.

“That's a very personal question, but yes. Just not immediately and more than one, if that's the next question,” she made a preemptive answer, sensing curiosity from several in the flock.

Chuckles rippled through the visitors and a couple of posed hands dropped.

“Thank you all again for coming,” she said to excuse herself. “I do have another appointment to keep. Peace to you all.”

After a quick bow, she escaped up the staircase, which was immediately blocked from the crowd by two of the Elite. Narone's standing orders kept anyone without authorization from accessing rooms and corridors above the ground floor of the building.

Landing on the third floor, Axandra allowed her home to be unlocked by the posted guard—also one of Narone's new orders—who opened the outer door then closed and locked it behind her while she opened the inner door and stepped inside.

Quinn sat on the divan in the great room studying a sheet of creased parchment. With his wire-rimmed spectacles balanced three-quarters of the way down his nose, he alternated between the letter and a small object in his opposite hand. On the tea table rested a wooden crate thirty centims by sixty centims and about ten deep. The lid lay aside and curls of fibrous packing nest trailed out.

“Is that a box of artifacts?” she asked excitedly, feeling suddenly light-hearted. “Where are they from? Are they the ones you were expecting?” In the last few months since the Passing of Soporus, Axandra had adopted a healthy interest in her husband's work as an archeologist, looking for and analyzing the relics left behind by the Ancients. The indigenous race of sentient beings inexplicably vanished from this world between seven and nine millennia ago, before they could advance beyond the Iron Age. Across the continent Quinn's counterparts excavated sites to uncover relics from various tribes in various time periods. The companionable scientists often exchanged pieces, as each archeologist possessed a different expertise in interpreting usage and meaning. Quinn specialized in small statuaries, attempting to divine meaning from the images, poses, and pictograms used for religious or mystic purposes.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted as she slid beside him on the cushions, pecking her lips with a quick kiss. “Yes, from Sunflower Lake area. There are quite a few caves in that area that housed an extensive tribe. Not the largest we've seen, but a fairly robust population. These might represent their god hierarchy. We've concluded that male and female gods held equal power—this pair appears to represent the king and queen of the gods.”

He offered her two polished figures carved of red agate, each squat in stature, with round heads and bodies. Carved lines in the stone depicted folded hands and crossed legs. The shapes appeared faceless. The female figure was rounder around the belly and her breasts hung heavily from her chest. Each figure was shaped so that, when placed side-by-side, they nested together like jigsaw pieces.

“The rest are lesser gods and possibly demigods.” Quinn waved toward the remaining figures still in the crate. “We see evidence that some gods and goddesses often sought carnal adventures with mortals.”

The box contained an assortment of smaller figures carved from different colored stones and minerals, such as sodalite, aventurine, and tourmaline. Color represented a marker of status or occupation. There were twelve in all, a male and female paired together at each of six levels, progressively smaller the lower in rank.

“So what you said about the world view was correct, that sexual dichotomy was merely the world's way of ensuring continuation, not a division of power. You cannot have one without the other.” Axandra churned up the silt of a past conversation, demonstrating to her husband that she did pay attention to his work.

“Somewhat, yes. I think our ancient friends possessed a remarkable understanding of celebrating the differences in each sex,” Quinn pondered, “and never fell into the trap of one oppressing the other, as humans tended to do. The female figure represents the magic of life. I believe our queen is pregnant.”