Pandora, Cleric of Pelor
Darl watched Katy cross the street to her mother’s house. He sighed, still amazed even now that he had won her heart. Supposing that she would never have been reduced to coming to the monastery for charity if her father had survived the fever, he thanked Pelor that she had not found him repulsive when they met.
“Still mooning over your wife?” Yalt teased him. Darl turned back to his best friend. They had known each other since Yalt first came to the monastery as a supplicant. Darl had been left there as an infant and raised by the monks; his duties placed him barely above the status of a slave, but he knew his way about the place. Unlike most of the supplicants, who treated Darl as below them, Yalt was shy and glad when Darl helped him. Thus, a fast friendship was formed. Even when Darl left the monastery to join the city guard, they remained in close contact.
“She’s just going to get Pandora,” blushed Darl. “You know, we could have brought our daughter with us to the service, but ‘Grandma’ wanted her granddaughter to herself for a bit and we figured it’d be less disruptive for everyone this way.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a scream sounded from “Grandma’s” house. Darl turned pale as he and Yalt exchanged a look and ran across the street. A figure in dark clothing ran out the door and into the alleyway just before they reached the doorstep.
One glance showed both Katy and her mother in pools of blood on the floor; the baby was fussing in a cradle to the side. Darl rushed to Katy’s side and turned her over, the stab wound gushing.
“Katy!” Darl could not think, could not accept her wound.
“Darl? Love…” Katy’s eyes stared into space as she breathed her last. Darl hugged her close, then closed her eyes and looked up at Yalt. His eyes hardening, he gently laid Katy back down and rose.
“Promise to keep Pandora safe for me, will you?” implored Darl. Yalt could not refuse.
“As Pelor is my witness, I’ll make sure she is well,” promised the priest. With that, the young city guard dashed off after the figure that had fled the scene of the crime.
Hours later, word came back to where Yalt was still tending the child. Darl had followed the bloody trail back to the murderer’s home and tried to arrest him. When the murderer did not come peaceably, Darl had fought with him. Both had been killed in the struggle.
Faced with keeping his promise far longer than he had intended, the lawful good priest packed up what he could of Pandora’s things and brought her back to the monastery with him.
*********
The teenage girl nearly slammed the basket of potatoes on the table and began peeling them angrily.
“No, Bright Servant Yalt, I did not find the miller’s son to be nice at all. He treated me like an ignorant streetwalker! Aside from the fact that I read and write better than he does, I could have run the mill and gotten smoother flour than he returned of the wheat I gave him. And then he had the audacity to pat my buttock as I left! If the Sun Father did not teach more peacefulness than St. Cuthbert does, I’d’ve slapped the creep!
Yalt sighed. Shining One, please teach us your wisdom and patience – and please hurry! Not so little anymore, Pandora turned too many of the acolytes’ heads these days. It would be best if she just settled down with a nice husband, yet she did not seem interested in any of the reasonably suitable prospects he could find. She had high expectations; not wealth, as she did not seem to care about clothing or jewelry. No, she wanted something much harder to find: intelligence and good attitude.
Pandora threw the first peeled potato into an empty pot and picked up another one from the basket.
“I don’t see why you’re so eager to marry me off, anyway,” complained the girl. “I fulfill duties at least as well as any acolyte here and with helping in the kitchen I more than pull my own weight.”
“Because since I was given the responsibilities of a Bright Servant, I no longer have time to keep track of your whereabouts and make sure you are safe!” snapped the frustrated Yalt.
“Safe?!” Pandora blew out an exasperated breath. “How can you think being outside this monastery is in any way going to be safer for me? Here, if someone puts a hand on me without my permission, they will be disciplined – like Manidda was last week and like the miller’s son should have been. In the marketplace, if I can even find a guard to report it to, they laugh it off and tell me to go about my business. You call that safer?”
Yalt rubbed the bridge of his nose as he replied.
“Pandora… It is not just your safety that we need to be concerned about here.” He looked at her directly. “The other acolytes – the boys – are constantly being tempted when they see you. They argue about who impresses you more. The incidents with Manidda and others are disruptive and getting more serious each time. You are becoming a danger to our order.” There, I finally said it.
“I… but… that’s not my fault!” protested the girl as she continued peeling potatoes.
“It is no one’s fault,” the Bright Servant responded to her objection, gently. “And furthermore, as the Radiant Servant pointed out to me, we cannot both stay here because you are my foster daughter. There are unspoken assumptions of favoritism even though you took the oaths of an acolyte. And he has made it clear that he wants me to stay.”
“Some favoritism! Throwing me out!” Pandora threw another potato into the pot and grabbed for the next.
“It’s not like that, Pandora,” objected Yalt. “You will always be welcome to visit on any day, but you cannot live here, is all.”
“Pelor would want me here!” Pandora stubbornly insisted. “He knows my heart; I am more true to him than most acolytes that come in the door here!”
“Perhaps the Sun Father is blessing you by having us put you out,” reasoned Yalt weakly. That sounded much more sensible when the Radiant Servant said it.
“Blessing you, maybe,” complained the teenager. “Where am I supposed to go? The Shining One knows I’m not going to play wife for someone just because they’re strong, and I’m not about to debase myself with begging or prostitution. Can’t I just stay out of the way here as a cook?”
“I already tried asking that,” Yalt told her. “The short answer is no.”
“Fine!” Pandora threw down her peeling knife and potato. “Some thanks for all those meals I prepared and cleaned up after! Enjoy the oversalted, underseasoned dishes your precious other acolytes make!” Fighting back tears, she stormed to the tiny closet of a chamber that served as her quarters.
The Bright Servant rubbed his head. It was only midmorning, and already the day was soured. A few minutes later, Pandora came back through the kitchen, a pack on her back.
“Am I allowed to take any food with me as I set out?” she shot the petulant question at her foster father. He nodded, and she set about stocking her pack with enough food for several days.
“Pandora…” began Yalt. “Please, let me know where you settle and what you get into? I’m sure there are several inns where you can work as cook, and we will gladly serve as references for you.”
“Come back and ease your conscious, you mean,” spat Pandora. I’ll show him that Pelor blesses me even without his help. I’ll be a better servant of the Shining One than any acolyte here, and then they’ll want me back. Hoisting her pack over her shoulder, she turned and left.