Goddess Rising

The shop smelled of oil and new fabric. Aria was still in the doorway when she realized that she’d been misjudged. The store was clearly a high-end installment. There was no clothing displayed, just a large, empty room with a padded bench against one wall and measuring tools sitting on a counter.

A cheery “welcome” greeted Aria as she entered, but her eyes were on the opposite wall. She walked up to it, sparing only a glance at the shopkeeper, and stopped to stare at the object hanging there. It was a composite bow almost half her height. Aria ran a finger across it and found it oiled to perfection, without a single speck of dust.

“Might I help you, Madam?”

Aria turned to the woman. Her hair was done up in a single, tight bun, giving her a slightly pinched look. If she was offended by Aria’s forwardness, she hid it well and projected only a competent, assured look.

“Would you like to buy a gown?”

Aria let her hand leave the bow. “Not a gown. I need a pair of trousers and a sleeveless blouse. Nothing too bright and nothing in white. Gray or green is fine.”

The woman nodded and smiled perfunctorily. “I can provide that. Please, sit. Komichi!”

“I’m coming!”

The voice that called back was young and soon followed by its owner, a preteen girl with a large nose and chubby cheeks. She seemed far too cute for any real labor, but held a measuring tape and charcoal stick with familiarity.

“Measure this lady,” the woman said. “Then bring some dark-colored trousers and sleeveless blouses in her size.”

“Yes, mother.”

The girl gave Aria a small bow, then stepped up till they were barely a foot apart.

“Please, spread your arms, Madam.”

Aria sighed. “This is unnecessary. Just find something that will fit.”

It was the child who replied. “You have wide shoulders, madam, and a small waist. Without measurement, anything I pick will fit wrong in one place.”

Aria did not know how to argue with that and she had nowhere else to be, so she sighed again and spread her arms. The girl was quick. She measured Aria’s bust and waist in seconds, mouthing the numbers to herself and not bothering to write them down. When she reached Aria’s wrist, however, she stopped and gasped.

Aria glanced at her own wrist, realizing halfway through the action what had caused the girl’s reaction. Garo’s mark stood out on the back of her hand. She had grown used to it, but it was rare in the lower realm. Only those who served Garo in the middle realm wore his mark on their bodies. Everyone else - from priest to acolyte, showed their devotion with jewelry.

The girl was on her knees before Aria could stop her. “Welcome, Priestess.” Her tone was solemn, as if Aria had brought Garo himself into the shop.

Her mother suffered a moment of confusion, but she followed Komichi’s lead.

“Please,” Aria said. “This is unnecessary. Get up.”

They obeyed, but the look of awe did not leave their eyes. When Komichi resumed the measuring, it was with gentle reverence.

She shot a wary glance at her mother, who was still watching them, and whispered, “Have you really seen the Great Conqueror?”

What was she to say to that? Aria smiled and nodded. “He looks just like his statue.”

The girl’s eyes went wide and Aria envied her. She wished that she could be so happy about meeting Garo.

“You must be so happy,” the girls said.

Aria did not snort. “Yes,” she said, “very happy.”

Her tone confused the girl but Aria schooled her expression and the confusion passed.

With the measuring done, both mother and daughter disappeared into the back of the shop. They were gone for several minutes. Occasionally, Aria heard whispers, but she could only pick out the loudest words. While they were gone, she took the bow down from the wall and tested it. She had not held one for months. The mere act of touching it steadied her, brought back memories. Amusement bubbled up in her chest. After all she had been through to reach the middle realm, she was back on the lowest plane, in hiding.

She returned the bow to its position.

Komichi and her mother returned with four sets of clothing each. They began to describe the features, but Aria shushed them. A blouse was a blouse. She picked one that she could maneuver into without removing her coat, and borrowed a pair of scissors from them. In a side room hidden by curtains, she proceeded to cut off the dress she was wearing and struggle into the new blouse. The process was difficult and annoying and she wished she had asked the prince for an alternative to the coat.

While she dressed, she heard more whispers from the mother and daughter. They continued for so long that she almost snapped at them, but she held her tongue. She could not be happy, but it was no reason to pick on others.

Getting into the clothing confirmed one of her suspicions: she could not continue hiding forever. A coat was a minor inconvenience and she could barely stand it. What other indignities would she have to endure?

Back in the store, she asked the woman to discard her nightdress and took a coin out of her purse.

“No, please,” the woman’s head shook emphatically. “I would not dare - “

Aria dropped the coin on the counter, but the woman hurriedly retrieved it and held it out with her head bowed. “Please,” she said. “If you must pay, help me in another way.”

Aria tilted her head and waited. Whatever the woman wanted, there was little chance that she was capable of it, but she could hear her out.

The woman pulled her daughter closer and Aria knew.

“Komichi takes the trials this month. I hope that she can find a position in the temple here. If you will tell her about your trials, and how you made it so far, it would be such a help.”

There was fear in the woman’s eyes, and such hope. She was worried that Aria would be angry, but thrilled to have the opportunity to help her daughter.

She glanced at the bow, this time, calling back less pleasant memories.

She almost declined the request. Almost. But she looked in the child’s eyes and saw even more hope than in the mother. Here was more fodder for the fire, another child who could be beaten into shape and made a willing slave of a god who could care about her as much as about a grain of sand and treat her accordingly.

She looked squarely into the girl’s eyes. “You want advice?”

“If you please,” the mother said.

Aria took a seat on the bench and beckoned for the girl to sit beside her. As she did so, her mother put up a ‘closed’ sign.