1st 5 Pages July Workshop- Toran Rev 1

Name: Katherine Toran

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy

Title: Persephone’s Waltz

I, Holy Maiden Ysabel, had only four months, three weeks, and two days to live, and I intended to make the most of every single day. To my mind, this meant spending as little time as possible in meetings with the Council of Patriarchs. Yet here I was. I needed a smoke or a stiff drink. Not both; I’d learned from bitter experience on my knees in the outhouse that redleaf and alcohol did not mix.

Patriarch Rakir continued, “…As the maid said to the bishop.” He laughed uproariously. So did the rest of the room. I contemplated the five minutes of my life which I would never get back. Rakir deserved a beating for making me sit through, by my last count, eighty-nine jokes where the punchline was “women are sluts.”

“What did you think, Ysabel?” Patriarch Rakir asked, smirking. The average intelligence of humanity will be raised the day his nighttime activities cause his old heart to fail.

I widened my eyes. “Oh, it was dreadfully entertaining, but I think it went over my head. Alas, the Sun God has not blessed me with a wit equal to you gentlemen. Why did the bishop tie the maid up? Did she do something wrong?”

They exploded into laughter. I kept my vapid, pretty smile on my face while I contemplated the sharp limits of Rakir’s knowledge of bondage. Just tied hands and a blindfold? If you’re going the sensory deprivation route, at least take advantage of the increased sensitivity with a bit of hot wax and ice cubes. As they had become more obvious, it had gotten harder to pretend I didn’t know far more about how to dominate a partner than they did.

When I’d claimed the Sun God told me as his chosen Holy Healer I should be allowed into their monthly council meetings, the patriarchs discovered having a woman in the room made it awkward for them to brag about their sexual conquests during worktime. They’d “forgotten” to tell me when the council meetings were being held. So I pretended to be too virginal to understand sexual innuendo if it mugged me in a dark alley. I was still being excluded from the wheeling-and-dealing in the private drinking sessions, but at least I got into the planning room.

It was a gorgeous room if you could overlook that it was paid for by charitable tithes. Silver and gold etched dozens of little angels on the ceiling. Statues of muscled men crowded the alcoves, fig leaves covering where the Last Archbishop had gone around hacking all their penises off. The round table made of pure gold had to be replaced once a month because gold is a very soft metal. The hand-woven silk carpets didn’t last much longer on account of the drinking parties I wasn’t invited to. A new-fangled gas lamp burned in a violent-tinted glass case.

Rakir flipped through his papers. “I’m pleased to announce construction of the stadium for the 549^th World Games is complete and under-budget. The damn heretics are still insisting on double the number of guards we’ve room for.”

Patriarch Poul grunted. “House them in the whorehouse and mail the issue to them in nine months.” I recognized him by his black hat and long beard. My face-blindness meant I could only tell the patriarchs apart by the customary dress of their different sects. The ones who just wore brown robes, like Farruco, Franshall, Lordon, and Envio, all blurred together.

Everyone but me laughed. Poul’s father was a virgin and his mother sucked eggs in hell.

“Ysabel doesn’t know where babies come from,” a patriarch said, pointing at me. Must be Lector judging by the vile smell.

My forehead wrinkled. “Babies come from true love and the Sun God.”

Not my finest line of nonsense. Anyone who had the tiniest respect for my intelligence would have heard my sarcasm. Happily I did not have that problem. The room laughed even harder. I should have learned to never underestimate how stupid this bunch thought women were. Not being allowed to marry and too important to council commoners, the only women they associated with were prostitutes. It made for a massive virgin-whore complex.

Sobering, Orwin said, “If we slight them, it will only fuel their self-righteousness. Better to embarrass them with our hospitality.” Orwin is a horny old goat like all the others, but smart enough to have invented the printing press and bribed his way up from a lowly church-raised orphan to the council.

As they all fell to bickering, I let my eyes wander, memorizing the shirtless bodies of some of those statues for later use. Sadly, this was the closest I’d gotten to a naked man in nearly two years. I’m forced to be discreet for political reasons, by which I mean if this lot ever found out I like to tie men up and step on them, several might die of heart attacks.

Eventually, Orwin said, “Put it to vote: do we provide housing for the Heretic Church’s additional guards?”

“Excuse me.” I clasped my hands together. “Please allow my humble self to plea for diplomacy. The heretics are misguided, but they worship the Sun God just like us.” More importantly, we don’t want to provoke another trade embargo when our economy has barely recovered from the last one, you brainless morons. I cast pleading eyes at Santos, the nicest of the lot and probably the only sincere believer at this table, patriarch being more a political position than a religions one these days.

Unfortunately, that meant he resented the “heretical” sects which had split away from the council even more. Looking away, Santos murmured, “Holy Ysabel’s kindness does her credit,” in a condescending way. The vote went against me, seven to two. I’d known it was a lost cause. I exchanged eye rolls with Orwin.

The brass double-doors creaked open. Patriarch Jiohnanny strode in, his white coat heavy with gemstones and his black beard bristling. Everyone in the room sat up straighter. Jiohnanny was head of the council. I hated him with every fiber of my being.

“Noble Jiohnanny, the air becomes more holy now you have graced us with your presence.” I beamed at him. “The Sun God must have sent your wisdom to help us with the thorny tasks assailing us from all sides.” Sorry for making you bear the blame, God.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you struggle on your own, Ysabel.” His tone was both patronizing and sarcastic. Unlike the rest of the council, I’d never managed to quite convince Jiohnanny that I was an empty-headed ninny happy to sacrifice myself, so he kept a close eye on me for any chance that I might try to escape our bargain.

He planted his giant body, both muscular and rippling with fat, down on his throne with a thud. “I come bearing news of an emergency.” His silver cane topped by a white orb leaned against his legs. He took it everywhere, despite having no leg injuries. Of all the patriarchs, only he still appeared to be a young man. He had dark monolid eyes, a lumpy face, and thick black hair he kept curled and shoulder-length. I would say something unpleasant about his mother, but I couldn’t possibly insult an unfortunate woman who had to squeeze such a bloated head out of her womb.

His next words echoed throughout the small room: “The Holy City shortly faces a siege from Dark Lord Kaine.”