Aĉaĵego

XIII: What Karesema Kept to Herself, Part 3

10 Days Later

The priests were lording their power over her, insisting on unnecessary formalities just because they could. That was the only explanation for why they'd made her appear before the judging priests to make her case for why she was a fit guardian for Jadinda. It wasn't like they actually cared about little orphan girls, after all. Not once had they shown any interest in Jadinda's well-being before all this happened. They just wanted to put Karesema in her place. She tried not to worry about it, even though the sight of those judges all standing around her staring at her like they did back when they decided she would die made her sick. She tried not to let her nerves show, and give the priests the satisfaction of knowing their intimidation tactics were working.

There were a lot more people in the audience this time than there had been the first time she'd been in this room. Her aunt, uncle, and cousin Sunbrila were there, which was kind of them. They were in the village already, arranging a marriage, but of course they'd also heard about Floreca and the Aĉaĵego and had stopped by Karesema's house to hear the truth of it. Besides them, the audience consisted of orphanage nuns, and nosy strangers. There were a lot of nosy strangers these days. People gawking at her every time she went into town. Jadinda had been getting a lot of attention too. Apparently, all the orphans wanted to hear about what Floreca had been like before she "became an angel." That was the story the priests had been feeding to everyone; Floreca herself had become an angel in the service of Terdiino and used her new angelic powers to "tame" the Aĉaĵego. They'd even bestowed a new name on her: everyone was supposed to call her "Dresinto" now, not Scivolemulino. Just like the Aĉaĵego's original name had allegedly been lost in time. It was completely stupid, such an obvious cover for their own lack of authority. Floreca herself would be horrified if she knew about it.

"So, Ridemulino," said the head judge, an old man. She recognized him from being sentenced to death, but didn't remember his name. "You're here to claim eligibility to adopt an orphan."

"I'm here to take back my sister," Karesema corrected.

"Once she's in the care of the temple, she must receive the same treatment as every other child in the orphanage, and we don't let children without true-names leave unless we're certain they'll be going into a better home than we can provide. Potential guardians must appear in court and make a case that they're an ideal home, especially unmarried women. No exceptions."

Before Karesema could say anything to this, the judge gestured towards an elderly nun, who Karesema recognized from the days they'd needed to take Jadinda to the temple orphanage to be nursed. She had always seemed like a kind woman, so Karesema held her tongue. "Please don't offended," said the lady. "There have been times when young mothers – women who have gotten pregnant out of wedlock, to be frank – have left their children in our care, come back and claimed them years later... only to bring them back when they get pregnant with a legitimate child by their husband. You can understand how devastating that is for a child, and why we've learned to be cautious."

"This isn't like that at all!" Karesema snapped. The audience broke out in murmurs, and she realized she looked like the monster in this scenario, yelling at an old lady. But it shouldn't matter what others thought of her. Jadinda was her sister. How could they possibly convince themselves she'd be better off in an orphanage than with her?

"Enough," warned the head judge. "Let's proceed. Please, Ridemulino, explain your circumstances."

So, Karesema told her side of the story yet again. But it wasn't really her side – she never really told her whole side ­– she had to tailor each retelling to her audience. She didn't tell Jadinda how worried she was about Floreca, she didn't tell Sunbrila's family how the priests had tricked her or how the guards had threatened her, she couldn't even tell Floreca that she hadn't gotten Jadinda back home yet. She hated having to lie, having to reign things in. She wished she could scream at the top of her lungs about how the priests were liars, how Floreca was alive but mortal and in danger, how she hated everyone in this whole town because she knew how disposable she was to them, so they could all go die and as long as they left her and her sisters alone, she'd be happy. But she couldn't.