The orgy had lasted four full days. It hadn’t been the greatest the citadel had ever seen- only three of the older monks had expired- but the Lang had tried to impregnate all the nubiles from the surrounding villages and the Yin had taken her pick of the men. Now both gurus had all their fleshly desires satisfied, they could be prepared to enter the world.
As the grounds were cleared and the joyously deceased monks laid to rest, the gurus went into isolation. Their bodies were steamed and their loins salved and oiled. Pampered, powdered and in pressed clothes, they reappeared two days later.
They went down to the lake one last time, to look at the island- glowing in the
morning sunlight- then walked back along the tree lined path to the temple. Trees gave way to mud huts, wattle and daub, stone, half timbered and finally glazed brick. The gate had been dismantled and moved down the valley so a new extension could be marked out. A missionary had returned with news of a material- a powder and water mix which cured hard as sandstone and could be strengthened with ferrous bars.
The dark wood doors, over a span thick, had been re-hung for the occasion. A lazy traveller could walk around the gates, but the Lang and Yin put all their strength into pushing them open. Neither had passed beyond the threshold before, though both knew more about the world than anyone outside the temple. “We should take names.” The Yin suggested.
“Mine shall be from the first person I meet, I think.”
“I shall be Dana. After one of the goddesses of the Northern countries, as that is where I am headed.”
“I am heading down the river. From what I hear, there are many down there I could help.”
They stood for a while, staring up at the mountains and down at the river. In all probability they would never meet again. They touched fingers.