Youngest
One the four men grunted in response but the other three didn’t look up from the dice game they were playing. Officially, dicing and any other forms of gambling were banned on Center property, but Karinn had found he caught more souls with honey than with scripture.
“Enjoy your game, gentlemen,” he said, moving toward the Center’s large front door, “and remember that all things come from the Youngest – even dice.”
There was a murmur of acknowledgement from behind Karinn has he moved away – he had a reputation as one of the most lenient Mals in the city and while some said that attracted an unsavory crowd to his Center, he preferred to think of it as bringing in those who needed his help the most.
He took a moment to pause inside the Center’s entryway atrium and offer up thanks to the Youngest. Above him blue-tinted skylights filtered down a soft light, granting a feeling of peace and perfect serenity; how he had endured life before his change, Karinn could not recall.
A young woman approached him as he strode into the vaulted main hall of the Center; he had met Yolene Oppenhal days after his change, and ever since she had been a steadfast friend. The pale young woman always had excellent advice, both when it came to matters of faith and matters of a more practical nature. Though her gender meant she could never be a Mal, he had given her an administrative position in the Center once he had attained the office.
“Good morning, Mal,” Yolene said, bowing her head in the traditional greeting. “Blessings of the Youngest upon you.”
“And you,” he said, completing the ritual. Temptation pulled at him to bow his head as well but protocol did not permit such gestures of a Mal to a penitent, no matter what their position. He sighed. His baser instincts still rose up, even a decade after his illumination.
“How are you this glorious morning?” A bright smile spread across her face as she raised her head. Those in service of the Youngest were to take joy in their work, but Karinn had never met anyone who took the directive as much to heart as Yolene.
“I am well, child,” he replied, a smile touching his lips as well, though it was more forced than his assistant’s. The gamblers outside had annoyed him, but there was no point speaking such thoughts aloud.
“Excellent!” She said with a ringing voice. Karinn would never say it, but sometimes Yolene’s tone was too much, too loud for such early mornings. “Mal,” she went on, speaking the word softly; he had to take several steps forward as she continued to speak, tone suddenly tense and demanding. “There is something you must see. Now.”
It had been years since she had taken such a tone with him and while the authority of his position demanded a stern response, he simply nodded and waved her forward. With a quick step Yolene moved to the back of the Center, but not to the office as Karinn expected. Instead she headed for the small pantry required in each dwelling of the Youngest, there to feed the poor when fortunes left them no other choice.
“I found it last night,” she said, “after you left. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before.”
Karinn was curious but held his tongue – whatever she had found, he would see it soon enough.
Entering the pantry showed him nothing out of the ordinary, and he felt a sharp stab of annoyance; anything relating to supply or use of the food should have been well within her purview. Why would she bother him with it?
“Here.” Yolene moved to the back wall of the pantry and reached into one of the shelves. For a moment there was only silence and then a sharp click sounded, followed by a low and steady grinding. The shelf his friend had touched moved backward and then slid to the left, revealing a steep-staired passage leading down. “Please,” she gestured, “go ahead. It is perfectly safe – I went down myself, last night.”
Karinn hesitated. Nothing on the floor plan of the Center spoke to any kind of basement, but Yolene would never lead him astray. He moved forward.
Down and down the passage went, a twisting stone staircase that spun in on itself until Karinn felt dizzy from the constant turning. It finally delivered him to a vaulted concrete room, devoid of furnishings save for a large wooden table in its center.
On the wall opposite the passage entryway were a series of photos, each of a face in tormented agony. Though his mind recoiled at the unthinking horror laid out in front of him, Karinn’s feet took him forward as he picked out a familiar set of dark green eyes.
“What…” his voice failed him as distant recognition proved true. “what is this?”
“I don’t know, Mal,” Yolene’s voice was quiet, “but I see you’ve found a face you know.”
“Yolene, I –“ he began, but she cut him off.
“Two up from mine, and three to the right. You won’t like it, but you should look.”
It took effort to move his eyes, force to pull them off of the snapshot of Yolene’s wide-mouthed scream. He knew what he would see next, what he would encounter when his friend’s directions were followed but his legs still buckled as his own twisted visage came into view.
“Who did this to us?” He screamed at the face-filled wall.
“I did.” A deep voice said from behind Karinn, and he spun on his heel. Shapes were moving in the stairwell, fragmented shadows that resolved themselves into the form of Grand Mal Tolvar, head of the Youngest’s presence in the city. “Not all Illuminations come easily.”
- D
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