He shook his head. "No, you were right to ask it. I had forgotten: my duty is to alleviate suffering by any means at my disposal." His oath would have become meaningless if he had failed to remember that. Ginnem had been right to remind him.
It took her a moment to absorb his words. She stepped forward, her body tense. "Then you will do it? You will give me a child?"
He gazed at her for a long while, memorizing her face. "You understand that I cannot stay," he said. "I must return to the Temple afterward, and never see the daughter we make."
"Daugh — " She put a hand to her mouth, then controlled herself. "I understand. The village will care for me. After all their talk of a curse they must, or lose face."
Cet nodded and held out a hand to her. Her face wavered for a moment beneath a mix of emotions — sudden doubt, fear, resignation, and hope — and then she crossed the room, took his hand, and sat down beside him.
"You must...show me how," he said, ducking his eyes. "I have never done this thing."
Namsut stared at him, then blessed him with the first genuine, untainted smile he had ever seen on her face. He smiled back, and in a waking dream saw a horse running, running, over endless green.
"I have never wanted to do this thing before now," she said, abruptly shy. "But I know the way of it." And she stood.
Her mourning garments slipped to the floor. Cet fixed his eyes on them, trying not to see the movements of her body as she stripped off her headcloth and undergarments. When she knelt straddling his lap, he trembled as he turned his face away, his breath quickening and heart pounding fast. A Gatherer belongs wholly to the Goddess, that was the oath. He could hardly think as Namsut's hands moved down the bare skin of his chest, sliding towards the clasp of his loinskirt, yet he forced his mind to ponder the matter. He had always taken the oath to mean celibacy, but that was foolish, for the Goddess had never been interested in mere flesh. He loved Namsut and yet his duty, his calling, was still first in his heart. Was that not the quintessence of a Gatherer's vow?
Then Namsut joined their bodies, and he looked up at her in wonder.
"H-holy," he gasped. She moved again, a slow undulation in his lap, and he pressed his head back against the wall to keep from crying out. "This is holy."
Her breath was light and quick on his skin; dimly he understood that she had some pleasure of him as well. "No," she whispered, cupping his face between her hands. Her lips touched his; for a moment he thought he tasted sugared currants before she licked free. "But it will get better."
It did.
They returned to the Temple five days later, carrying the narcomancer's jungissa as a guarantee of the villagers' good faith. The Superior immediately dispatched scribes and tallymen to verify the condition of the parent stone and calculate an appropriate price. The payment they brought for the narcomancer's jungissa alone was enough to buy a year's food for the whole village.
Ginnem bid Cet farewell at the gates of the city, where a party of green- and gold-clad women waited to welcome him home. "You made the hard choice, Gatherer," he said. "You're stronger than I thought. May the Goddess grant your child that strength in turn."
Cet nodded. "And you are wiser than I expected, Sister. I will tell this to all my brothers, that perhaps they might respect your kind more."
Ginnem chuckled. "The gods will walk the earth before that happens!" Then he sobered, the hint of sadness returning to his eyes. "You need not do this, Gatherer Cet."
"This is Her will," Cet replied, reaching up to grip Ginnem's shoulder. "You see so much, so clearly; can you not see that?"
Ginnem gave a slow nod, his expression troubled. "I saw it when I realized you loved that woman. But..."
"We will meet again in dreams," Cet said softly.
Ginnem did not reply, his eyes welling with tears before he turned sharply away to rejoin his Sisters. Cet watched in satisfaction as they surrounded Ginnem, forming a comforting wall. They would take good care of him, Cet knew. It was the Sisterhood's gift to heal the soul.
So Cet returned to the Temple, where he knelt before the Superior and made his report — stinting nothing when it came to the tale of Namsut. "Sister Ginnem examined her before we left," he said. "She is healthy and should have little trouble delivering the child when the time comes. The firstwife did not take the news happily, but the elder council vowed that the first child of their reborn village would be cared for, along with her mother who so clearly has the gods' favor."
"I see," said the Temple Superior, looking troubled. "But your oath...that was a high price to pay."
Cet lifted his head and smiled. "My oath is unbroken, Superior. I still belong wholly to Her."
The Superior blinked in surprise, then looked hard at Cet for a long moment. "Yes," he said at last. "Forgive me; I see that now. And yet..."
"Please summon one of my brothers," Cet said.
The Superior started. "Cet, it may be weeks or months before the madness — "
"But it will come," Cet said. "That is the price of Her magic; that is what it means to be a true narcomancer. I do not begrudge the price, but I would rather face a fate of my choosing." The horse was in his mind again, its head lunging like a racer's against the swift river current. Sweet Namsut; he yearned for the day he would see her again in dreams. "Fetch Gatherer Liyou, Superior. Please."
The Superior sighed, but bowed his head.
When young Liyou arrived and understood what had to be done, he stared at Cet in shock. But Cet touched his hand and shared with him a moment of the peace that Namsut had given him, and when it was done Liyou wept. Afterward Cet lay down ready, and Liyou put his fingertips over Cet's closed eyes.
"Cetennem," Cet said, before sleep claimed him for the final time. "I heard it in a dream. My daughter's name shall be Cetennem."
Then with a joyful heart, Cet — Gatherer and narcomancer, servant of peace and justice and the Goddess of Dreams — ran free.
