the chorister moves in [attn: chantry dwellers]

[jamie]

"¿Entonces, el doctor dijo que puedes regresar al trabajo?"
"No hablé por el doctor."
"¡Francisco!"

Two months ago a well-respected and perfectly nice if somewhat traditional priest named Manuel Ruíz accepted the formidable task of leading the congregation at La Iglesia del Buen Pastor. He did not receive a call from the rector himself but from the office administrator. She'd explained as calm as she could that Father Echeverría had had a stroke and they needed someone to fill in for him until he was back on his feet.

Reverend Ruíz wasn't in the business of saying no to people to whom he owed favors. He owed Father Echeverría a large one. So he came. The fact that Ms. Salazar wouldn't have taken no for an answer certainly helped persuade him to come up from Pueblo to run things for a few months.

Rosa Salazar is really quite a lovely woman if one is willing to look past the fact that she holds a nigh unto indiscriminate disdain for the Awakened community in Denver and hasn't held much patience for anyone calling or coming into the church office asking after the rector. In the beginning she'd tried to be patient but her patience ran out weeks ago.

This morning Father Echeverría showed up at the church just after the sun rose. He had to have taken public transportation. Rosa drove him to some farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere in early September and turned him over to a strange white woman who was responsible for bringing him back from the brink. Should have left his ass there if you ask Rosa. At least he was resting then.

"What?"
"You look terrible, that's what."
"Sé, he estado comiendo comida vegana hace dos meses. No me extraña que the Verbena son tan flacas."
"Why you gotta make jokes, huh? People are worried about you and you're making jokes."

This early on a Tuesday morning the only part of the church that was filled with bodies was the daycare. The Veneration of the Virgin Mary would not start until the afternoon. No footsteps echoed through the corridors and the phone was not yet ringing.

Rosa stood behind her desk with her fingertips pressed against the blotter and she stared at the priest with a combination of patience and aggravation on her face.

"What, you want I should tell Reverend Ruíz he can go home now, you're fine now?"
"No."

Her eyebrows lifted and she crossed her arms over her chest. Waited.

"Hay una problema al santuario. I don't want to let Manuel go before it's over."
"What kind of problem?" She sighed. "No, you know what, I don't want to know. You gonna be staying out there?"
"Me necesitan, Rosa."
"Nosotros también, Francisco."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?"

He did not use a cane to walk around anymore. The time out in the plains had strengthened him. When he embraced Rosa she fought the pulse of resistance that coursed through her nerves and put her arms around him instead.

"Tan estúpido eres."

---

The Chorister took a vow of poverty when he became a priest. His clothing fits into a gym bag and the only weight of the bag comes from the books he packs. He does not take many books with him. All of the books he owns are crammed into his office at the church or scattered around the rectory. They are in the care of another minister now.

Now he's staying at the Chantry. It's as he told Rosa: he's staying there until this business with Thakinyan is over.

[errin]

Although two other rooms have been claimed in the Chantry house, only one person stays there permanently. The other belongs to a sporadic guest. There was a time when Sid stayed more often, coming down after work every Friday and leaving late Sunday night, and sometimes dropping by on some odd evening during the week. She came to study texts from the library or complete her homework, learn the guitar from Shoshannah, and maintain the grounds. Then she got sick and everything changed.

Still, the room across from the stairs is Sid's. Her resonance has soaked into the walls to bleed out into the hallway, though no one gets a chance to see what she does in that bedroom. That door stays locked, and only one other person besides herself has a key.

Eventually, Pan's path and hers will cross. They never spent much time together, but Pan would have gotten the impression Sid was intimidated by him. She's changed since the last time he would have seen her. Now, her clothes hang awkwardly on her frame due to recent weight loss that has yet to be put back on. Her glasses are no longer so huge and clunky, but smaller and nicer and don't quite distract from the dark circles beneath her brown eyes.

The first words out of her mouth when she sees him on some quiet evening are questions, spoken quietly as she looks at him, directly and steadily as she might not have done two and more months past. "Does Shoshannah know you're back?" followed by, "And Sera?"