The room hummed with diffuse light and silence. The candles were not lit; sunlight soaked through the sliver windows hidden in alcoves in the high ceiling.
Beneath the hum, and part of it, was a muted, angry mutter. It was growing louder again.
Lavei sat demurely upon the hard pew, head bowed. She was dressed in plain wool, handcrafted. Her white hands rested on her knees. Her eyes were closed, and she moved her lips wordlessly in prayer. Occasionally, she would open her eyes to slits, turn her head just so, and look across the temple to where the men sat, where Petr sat.
Five knocks, in the familiar cadence, echoed through the high-ceilinged dome. Lavei stiffened. The main door creaked open. For a moment the mutter grew into a roar, an enraged cry. The door closed, and again it diminished to a buzz. Footsteps ushered a family of four, the Mulheans. Each took his assigned seat. The youngest was trying not to cry as his mother hushed him softly and firmly.
Priest Olery approached the altar again. It must be a new hour. Lavei had lost track of time. The priest ran his hand along the length of the altar, an abstract sculpture of geometric shapes strung together and held in perfect balance. After a moment of reflection, he turned to the assembly.
“We come together today to meditate upon the Equilibrium that binds and undergirds the world and that guides our actions along smooth and easy paths. Let us remember again the basic shapes. First there is the prime shape, the Circle–it represents peace, balance, and unity.”
The priest’s voice was strong and gentle, and it filled the space, amplified by the room’s acoustics. Lavei listened, letting the words replace the indistinct din from without, letting the familiar presentation of the Polynomigon fortify her. Yes, the Circle, infinite and self-contained, every point equidistant from the center and so held together in equality, encompassing all like a mother’s embrace. Morality was Circular, first of all–do unto others as they did to you, kindness breeding kindness, wickedness begetting wickedness.
The priest passed from the Circle to the Ray, to the point traveling forward without distraction or delay–moral certainty and confidence–when the noise intruded.
Lavei looked over her shoulder at the door, then to Petr. He, too, stared at the doors. The quiet attention fluttered as men, women, and children shifted, absorbing the change in the pitch outside the walls of the temple. Priest Olery noticed.
“This chamber is rectangular, representing growth and symmetry, but this building is a circle, the ceiling a half-sphere, to remind us that within we are safe. We are in the center. Peace and knowledge reside here. A circle separates; it divides the world in two. Within, the center gathers all. Without, there is no center, no focal point, no boundaries. But we are within. We are safe. Be at peace.”
The sounds of the riot were close now. Lavei could almost make out individual screams, almost understand individual words. Pain and hate and wrath and fear pounded against the walls.
She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on Priest Olery’s persistent voice. She pressed away all other sound. That was not her world; those, not her people. Her people were here.
But restless noises came from within, too. Lavei opened her eyes. Petr was standing, his attention fixed upon the door.
“We should help.” He said it softly, but Lavei heard it even before it left his lips.
The men around Petr were speaking in hushed tones, most still sitting, as befitted men of Equilibrium. Petr shook them off. He looked for help and saw her watching him. “Lavei, there are people dying out there. We should help.”
She lowered her face and did not answer.
“Lavei!”
“Son, if they come to us, we will help,” Priest Olery said. “We are people of peace and goodness. We will not hold back our hand when the opportunity arises.”
“It’s here,” shouted Petr. “The city is on fire and we meditate!”
“Without is chaos,” the priest said simply. “Within is peace. Let them come bearing peace, and we will return it. If they enter bearing chaos, we will be forced to respond in kind. It is better to let them pass in their current state.”
Petr entered the space between the men’s and women’s sections. He stood, lost, in the center of the chamber.
“Lavei,” he pleaded, and he even came near. She burned with shame. “Come with me. Tell me you understand. Tell me I’m right.”
“How do we know what kind of people they are?”
“What kind of people are we?”
“Our temple stands untouched. We are not looting and destroying,” she said. “We are good people.”
Petr grabbed her hand. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t. “Stop this.”
“Some of these people are our people. All of them are neighbors and coworkers. They’re afraid.”
“The only ones who belong to us are those who walk in balance.”
“Even when the world is askew?”
“Especially then.”
He left her. Lavei stared at her hand, where his had grabbed hers. She could still see the red imprint on her pale fingers.
The mob was crashed against the temple, screaming and laughing. Above, a window shattered as a rock fell through. Glass rained down upon the men, who covered their heads.
Petr stood in the aisle, bleeding.
He wiped his forehead, smearing it. Slowly, he returned to his seat, brushing glass from it with his sleeve. Others were quietly picking slivers from their hands and hair.
“The Triangle encourages us with its simplicity and stability. It shows us our three-fold selves, our spiritual selves, our social selves, and our intellectual selves. These three must be controlled, each by the others, before we can truly know who we are.”
Priest Olery’s strong voice washed away the outside world.
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