The baby might have a hard time of that, because with a flash the two of them aren't on the ship anymore.  Rebecca's sitting in - water?  No, it's too thick and dark for that, and deep enough that Catherine's submerged entirely.  It's night, but there's a strangely steady light shining on the fountain and once her eyes adjust she sees that the liquid glints red.

. . . Whether or not the baby's breathing now she sure is starting to move.

What the hell her baby is no way no how going to DROWN she pulls her up and props her on her shoulder and pats her vigorously trying to get the red stuff coughed out.

Catherine coughs a little but not very much.  As Rebecca's eyes adjust further and as Catherine drips off the liquid - it smells an awful lot like blood, come to think of it, though not entirely unpleasantly - Rebecca can see that Catherine doesn't look anywhere near as bad as Rebecca feared.  Better than she by all rights ought to, and significantly better than she did on the ship.  Healthy, even; glowing.  She looks at her wide-eyed.

Rebecca herself feels much better, physically, than she can remember ever being, every ache and soreness gone.

huh??

Yeah no she feels great.

The opposite half of the fountain seems to be water, with little mosaicked dividers separating the pools.  There's a shower-like flow on that side, too, tall enough to stand under.

Okay but how does she get out of the... blood.

She can stand up and step over the divider!  Or the outer walls, should she so choose.  The blood only comes up to just below her shoulders when sitting on the pool's floor, and there are handrails of clean metal, cast smoothly at the gripping portion and flourishily at the ends, circling the taller center portion of the fountain at several heights.

O...kay. Over the divider she goes.

The water's warmer than the chill night air - so was the blood, come to think of it - and the shower has enough pressure to do a decent job of rinsing someone off but isn't much stronger than that.  Still maybe not the best to put babies under.  The pool's water level is slightly shallower than the blood was but there's still plenty enough to get clean with.

She wets her hands and wipes blood off Catherine.

No one interrupts her.

If she looks past the gazebo-like structure housing the fountain (wood, stained) she can see a number of buildings, some of them with bright and steady light streaming out the windows, all with strange architecture.  The most familiar-looking structure resembles a church.  It's got its lights on and is made of stone and wood instead of more foreign materials.

When she's done rinsing off and soaking wet she adjusts Catherine in her arms, steps out of the fountain, and makes a run for the church, hoping it'll be warm inside.

It's unlocked and even if it wasn't heated it would keep them out of the wind, but it is heated.  There's no one in the sanctuary but there's a sound that might be from someone moving around, or humming, in a different room.  It's hard to tell what direction it's coming from with the acoustics.

She's not going to try to find them right away, she's going to hold Catherine close and nurse her - she did get that working, right? - and dry off and warm up.

There's a coat rack in the foyer with an oversized blue cardigan abandoned on one of the hangers.  The cushions on the pews are in good condition, plush and comfortable.  The distant noise gets slightly louder after a point and changes to be more clearly music, though not in any style Rebecca's heard before.

She hums along a bit when she thinks she has the gist, but tentatively.

Someone clears her throat from a ways behind Rebecca, carrying a shallow basket full of programs.  "Good morning," she greets in a strange accent once Rebecca's had a chance to turn around.

"Good morning ma'am."

"You're a bit early for the service."

"Sorry, I'm, uh - lost?"

"This is a good place to find yourself.  What's troubling you?"

"...well an hour ago we were on a ship traveling to America."

The woman seems to expect there to be more to that sentence.  "And then . . . ?"

"...then we were in the weird fountain outside."

" - Oh!  Miraculously?"

"I think so - it could have been something magic, I have magic, but it would be weirder than I've heard of before."

"What kind of magic do you have, my dear?"

"Are there... several? I don't know my power yet, I didn't even get wings or anything yet."

"With very few exceptions, no one of this world has magic.  But from time to time, God - or our God, rather - has seen people in other worlds in hours of desperate need, and brought them to this one.  Those people have sometimes had magic of different kinds."

"I'm not a magical girl yet, I think, if I understand how it works, but I can be if I want."

"I see.  Were you in danger?  Are you still?"

"I was fine. She was sick."

"You poor dears.  Is there anything I can get you?"

"She seems better now." She's slurping up what Rebecca certainly hopes is normal milk like she's supposed to have, anyway.

"I'd hope so, if you landed in the fountain.  Do you want a drink, some food, a change of clothes?  I'm afraid we only have robes meant to be worn over another outfit, but they're dry."

"I wouldn't turn you down."

"There are drinks and snacks in the kitchen but if you want something more substantial quickly we'll have to run to the store," the woman says, heading towards the foyer to set down her basket.

"Thank you ma'am." She gets up and follows her.

"We are God's hands.  How hungry are you?"

"...I'm tired of ship's biscuit but not like starving?"

"Let's start with the kitchen, then."  She leads the way.  "People will be bringing pastries for after the dawn service and soup for lunch after the second one."

The kitchen's drawers and cupboards are mostly full of cookware and tableware, if the odd little labels on them are accurate, but there's one shelf each of drinks and snacks.  The containers are colorful and strange.  Rebecca has her weird-fonted but entirely legible pick of hot chocolate, orangeade, Bira Bulk Variety Pack, powdered berry punch, plain crackers, cheese-infused crackers, cheese-infused popcorn, veggie chips, corn chips, ULTRA FLAVOR SATURATION MEROESI, and sweet crackers in the shapes of plants.

She will try... cheese infused popcorn? And hot chocolate because she's still wet and chilly.

The woman pours the popcorn into a paper bowl for Rebecca and de-fridges some milk to microwave in a mug.  "I can hold her while you eat, if that's easier."

"I can eat one handed."

"Alright."  Beep, beep, packet, stir, hot hot chocolate.  The woman puts in another mug for herself.

Om nom. Cheese infused popcorn is, amazingly, not ship's biscuit.

It's pretty amazingly not that!

"I'm Mother Dedemos," the woman introduces herself.  "What do you two go by, if anything?"

"Do some people not go by things? I'm Rebecca and this is Catherine."

"Most people here do.  At least one person from another world didn't; he'd come from a place where knowing someone's name gave you incredible power over them and there was apparently a rather aggressive misunderstanding."

"...weird. I don't have that."

"I'm glad to hear it!  Lovely names."  Beep beep again the second hot chocolate's done.  Mother Dedemos takes a long sip.

"This is really tasty."

"Good."  And then they can go to the choir closet (Mother Dedemos carrying their food and drinks) and Rebecca can pick out a spare jewel-toned robe.  "If you'd like to change in the nursery there's a crib to set Catherine down in."

"Thank you." She will go ahead and change in the nursery. Is there anything for Catherine to wear? She's still soaking wet.

There are several baby-sized fabric things in the room's shelfy wardrobe.  They aren't particularly familiar in their construction but neither are they terribly difficult to figure out how to improve over wet clothes with.  - Oh, and there are some little blankets there in the back.

She'll just swaddle her in a blanket and put a robe on and come out again.

Mother Dedemos has collected a plastic bucket and takes the wet clothes to her office to drip into it.  "Could you use any other help?  There are a few things that are normally done before the service left to do but they aren't as important as making sure you're alright."

"Well, I don't have anywhere to... go... but I can figure that out after the service... um, is this a Catholic church?"

"Separated Reconcilist."

"Is... that a kind of Protestant?"

"It's a kind of Christsian."

"Right, but, what kind of kind of Christian."

". . . Maybe you should just look at our creed."  Mother Dedemos hits a key to wake up her office computer.  The screen lights up to display a digital version of the morning's program.

...sure, she will look at their creed on the magic box.

The Separated Reconcilist Creed, 2011 edition:

We believe in the good will of God the Mother,
     the divinity of the three Christs,
     and the dignity of all thinking beings.

We follow the example of Father Mirkes:
     he who says that to be well is the foundation of the world's health.
We follow the example of Sibling Aurles:
     xe who says that good systems give rise to good people.
We follow the example of Daughter Sernes:
     she who says that decoration, ambition, and delight are holy.

We intend to improve the world through our personal actions,
     our collective strength,
    and the striving of our minds.
We tithe our blood, our time, and our resources to this end,
     knowing we are also of this world.

We pray for temperance but not moderation,
     patience but not apathy,
     and the swift advent of flourishing without suffering.

Amen.

"I'm... not a whatever this is... so perhaps I should just, uh, go somewhere else."

"What do people of your faith believe?"

"Credo in unum Deum,
Patrem omnipoténtem,
factórem cæli et terræ,
visibílium ómnium et invisibílium.
Et in unum Dóminum, Iesum Christum,
Fílium Dei unigénitum,
et ex Patre natum ante ómnia sǽcula.
Deum de Deo, lumen de lúmine, Deum verum de Deo vero,
génitum, non factum, consubstantiálem Patri:
per quem ómnia facta sunt.
Qui propter nos hómines et propter nostram salútem
descéndit de cælis.
Et incarnátus est de Spíritu Sancto
ex María Vírgine, et homo factus est.
Crucifíxus étiam pro nobis sub Póntio Piláto;
passus et sepúltus est,
et resurréxit tértia die, secúndum Scriptúras,
et ascéndit in cælum, sedet ad déxteram Patris.
Et íterum ventúrus est cum glória,
iudicáre vivos et mórtuos,
cuius regni non erit finis.
Et in Spíritum Sanctum, Dóminum et vivificántem:
qui ex Patre Filióque procédit.
Qui cum Patre et Fílio simul adorátur et conglorificátur:
qui locútus est per prophétas.
Et unam, sanctam, cathólicam et apostólicam Ecclésiam.
Confíteor unum baptísma in remissiónem peccatórum.
Et exspécto resurrectiónem mortuórum,
et vitam ventúri sǽculi. Amen."

". . . Ah.  Do you have hallowed ground, in your world?"

"There's like, churches..."

"Do your churches allow people who don't normally share a language to communicate fluently?" asks Mother Dedemos, and it's strange because 'churches' and 'people' don't rhyme in English but they totally just somehow did.

"No? - I don't know the whole thing in English though, just the Latin one."

"In our churches, and other blessèd places, everyone speaks the same language unless they aim not to.  Recitation usually involves aiming not to, so I, ah, didn't actually get any of the meaning behind your creed, although the words themselves were beautiful.  If you could summarize what you know of it in your own words I would expect that to be very helpful."

"Well, there is only one Christ, and God the Father, and the Holy Spirit, who are all God together as one God maker of all things visible and invisible, and Christ was born of the virgin Mary and then he died for the sins of mankind, and came back alive and ascended to Heaven, and also there is a part in there about baptism being important, and the eternity of the kingdom of Heaven and the resurrection of the dead."

"Ah.

"I'm not sure there are any churches here which believe that.  Specifically."

"Wow, they don't like us where I'm from either but they haven't killed us all so far!"

". . . I'm so sorry, for whatever persecution you faced, and I assume your beliefs accurately reflect your world.  This world has three Christs.  There are religions which reject them as moral authorities, and there's a small group of people who believe only the first one is Godly.  There are a fair number of people who think the newest one is evil because she engages with demons, and I imagine a thousand years ago there was a similar backlash against the second, but that's the one who goes around dying for causes and I've never heard of any minority who recognizes xem and not the other two."

"That's weird? Also what's a xem."

"Christ Mirkes is male, Christ Sernes is female, and Christ Aurles is neither, which means in New Babelonian one says 'xem' in the place of 'him' or 'her' when talking about xem."

"...weird."

"After the service we can look into whether there are any religions here closer to yours, if you'd like."

"I think the three Christs thing is going to be kind of a sticking point."

"I suppose it would be.  Christ Sernes is scheduled to visit this town within the month; I'm sure she'd enjoy speaking with you then, if meeting her would help you in any way."

"I... have no idea. I guess if this is a different universe or whatever maybe the whole Christ situation happened differently..."

"Yes."  She sounds relieved.  "Yes, I think that describes the situation.  Will you be staying for the service, then?"

"...sure, I guess I can stay for it."

"I appreciate that.  You're welcome to wait in the sanctuary or help yourself to more food in the kitchen."

She will go try more weird food.

There's the same selection as previously!  Oh, and half a pack of cookies hiding in the back of the cupboard.  The fridge also has condiments, about a quart of milk, and a variety of creamers, should she look there.

The crinkly stuff the weird food is inside is so peculiar. She doesn't brave it to get a cookie even though she thinks about it.

None of the stuff in the fridge is crinkly, but the containers' materials are still otherwise peculiar.  A lot of the shelf food is inside thick weird paper boxes which if opened prove to have crinkle stuff hidden inside, surrounding the food, but the hot chocolate powder as she has already seen is in little weird-paper envelopes, and it turns out the Bira Bulk Variety Pack is too.  The ULTRA FLAVOR SATURATION MEROESI appears papery on the outside but if she tears it open it turns out to be lined with flimsy shiny maybe-metal.

Probably if any of this were somehow staggeringly valuable she would not have been turned loose among it so she will go ahead and open and eat things that look good from a "which of these alien foods would you most like to try" perspective.

If that happens to be the cookies she'll find that a flap of the crinkly stuff tears off with way less force than she was probably expecting!  But the edges of the panel are clean and it's not hard to stick it back on if she tries.  The cookies themselves are butterscotch chip, and texturally pretty soft.

Yummy!

A woman maybe a little older than Rebecca enters the kitchen.  "Hello."

"Hello."

"Mother Dedemos says you came here by miracle and might want some pastries before the end of service."  She offers a tray covered in white cloth (though with something see-through and shiny under it that causes it to slide around a little unnaturally).

"I've been eating but I could have some more." Peek.

Danishes!  With a variety of unidentifiable fillings.  "She also wants to know if you want the congregation to know about you, or that there was a miracle in general."  She peels back the plastic so Rebecca doesn't have to try one-handed.  "I understand discretion, if you don't."

"I don't think I'm a secret?"

"It's up to you whether or not you are."

"I don't see why I would be one though!"

"People will want to ask you a lot of questions and you might not want to be bothered with them right now, is the main thing."

"I don't know that much but that doesn't make me a secret."

"Well, I'll let the Mother know, then.  If you don't want to miss the service you can come up when you hear music, or sooner."

"Is there a choir here?"

"Of course."

"Oh good!"

"We believe in selective choirs but there's also regular congregational singing, and praise concerts at the later service.  Participatory and non-."

"I'm not going to know any of the songs here yet."

"You can follow along in the hymnal, for the congregational parts.  And I think some of the praise songs project sheet music.  I haven't gone to the second service in a few years; that might be wrong."

"They project it? What does that mean?"

". . . There's a spot on the wall where it will appear.  Because of a person operating a machine, not the songs themselves."

"Whoa. We don't have that."

"I think most of the other universes which God has saved people from have had lower tech levels than we did, at the time."  She re-wraps the danishes.  "So there might be a lot of things like that."

"I guess! Is that what's up with the funny packaging too, my best guess was that it was a weird plant thing."

"If you don't have plastic then yes, it's plastic."

"We don't have it. Why is it on practically all the food?"

"It helps keep it cleaner and fresher than other containers.  And it's convenient."

"It takes a little getting used to but I guess everybody's here had that."

"I grew up with it.  And so did at least my grandparents.  Do you mostly use . . . glass?"

"Or, like, paper, or... sacks, or ceramic jars... my mum has a wooden breadbox..."

"Oh, we sometimes use those, but - " She's interrupted by two lines of melody from a loud and distant set of bells.  "Oh, I should let the Mother know you're fine with being announced."

"Thank you."

She nods.  "I'm Thekla, if you need to ask after me.  There's space in my pew if there's nowhere else you'd rather sit."  And she heads across the hall and upstairs.

A few other people deposit trays of breakfasty treats in the kitchen, with a wave or a 'good morning!' but without displaying much inclination for more conversation than that.  She gets several odd looks about the choir robe and perhaps just being an unfamiliar person in the kitchen but no one makes a deal out of it.  After ten or fifteen minutes (the clock on the wall is strangely comprehensible but doesn't help her with exact conversion) the organ upstairs starts with a song proper.

She'll go sit in Thekla's pew, since she was invited.

Thekla's pew contains Thekla and maybe-probably her grandparents.  Most of the people in the congregation are older folks, though not most by very much; there are plenty of younger adults and scatterings of children.  Catherine isn't the only baby.

And Rebecca might not be the only magical girl.

That's... promising for her love life if she takes the plunge? Why the little devil horns though.

The little devil horns seem to be the main nonhuman feature!  She doesn't have anything else that Rebecca can see, at least from across the aisle and a few rows down.

"Any demons who can walk on hallowed ground are welcome in Reconcilist churches," Thekla whispers when she sees where Rebecca's looking.  "That's why we're called that."

"Wait so she's actually a demon? I wasn't sure... why can she walk here?"

"Approximately because she's not going to hurt anyone anymore."

"Wow. I don't think that happens where I'm from but I guess God knows better than me."

"It only started happening a few years before I was born and it sounds like your world is farther back than that."

"Like with the plastic? Yeah, I guess."

Thekla nods as the processional's final cadence plays.

Mother Dedemos is at the sanctuary's podium.  "Good morning," she announces, and her voice sounds like it's coming from around the entire room.  People mutter 'good morning's back to her which sound normal for a space with nice acoustics.  "'The heavens proclaim the glory of God; the skies display Her craftsmanship.  Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make Her known.'  These are the words of David in Psalms."

"Amen," says the congregation.

"Because of a miraculous healing that occurred this morning, our first song will be number 362, 'The Blood of Mirkes'." (Some people take a hymnal out of the back of the pew in front of them and start paging through it to mark the relevant song with the ribbon bookmark tucked into the spine.)  "Welcome, Rebecca."

Wave.

Next everyone reads the Creed from the program.  As with the last time she looked at it, it's really easy to understand and she can read through it way faster than she's used to being able to do with text.

Rebecca is not really self-aware enough to notice this. She's not a hundred percent on actually reciting the thing, so she just reads along silently.

Singing time!*  Thekla holds the hymnal for the two of them.  The sheet music isn't what Rebecca's used to but is quite intuitive regardless, and the congregation sorts itself into four-part harmony.

Should my body come to harm
I seek out the blood of Mirkes
Pain of brain or heart or arm
I seek out the blood of Mirkes
Oh, precious is the flow
That heals each slash and blow
Body whole that soul may grow
By the blessèd blood of Mirkes

Pill or syringe, surgery
All start with the blood of Mirkes
Maps of every artery
All start with the blood of Mirkes
Ease pain that we may learn
The body's every nook and turn
Hᴇʀ work let all discern:
Knowledge through the blood of Mirkes

Duty is not His alone
I add to the blood of Mirkes
Let the pools be overflown
I add to the blood of Mirkes
Red mantel, be my shawl
Donation my gift and call
Healthy I and we and all
My blood is the blood of Mirkes

When my time on Earth must cease
Comfort in the blood of Mirkes
Travel I in blissful peace
Comfort in the blood of Mirkes
Ease all the pain and strife
With which my soul is rife -

Off to the land of second life!
Ferried by the blood of Mirkes

The accompaniment chills way out for most of the fourth verse, only to return triumphantly at speed for the last two lines.

*Any similarity to real-life hymns the reader may be familiar with is a product of translation convention (and what the author finds fulfilling to write).  It's not diegetic.

These lyrics are SO WEIRD but she was healed by what was PRESUMABLY the blood of Mirkes so she will not let this get in the way of singing along.

The pew in front of them has pencils resting in stands in its back.  Thekla uses one to scrawl a bit in the program's whitespace, still singing along without looking at the lyrics.  She slides it over to Rebecca during the instrumental outro.

You could audition for the choir. ♪✧

may be!

Mother Dedemos turns to face the normal way for a priest finally.  "O Lord our God, we are Your companions and Your children, and though You made us with our own wills and minds, we turn again towards You.  In thanksgiving and in lack we seek You; in the paths of Your light we walk.  We follow You by choice.  Not by fear or threat do we gather here, but by love, and in love.  Love for you, O God, creator of the sea, the land, and the heavens, and love for each other, the community built around You, but not solely of You.  Bless this service, this meeting of hearts; bless those who participate in it and those who witness it; let it be worthy of delight and cause for reflection.  Lady of the night and day and the times between them, we pray this in Your name.  Amen."

Is everyone else saying amen? She will say it with everyone else if they are.

They are!

The lights dim to half brightness and about fifteen people (including Thekla) walk to the front of the sanctuary as an out-of-sight accompanist plays a few filler chords.

Once they're in position, facing the triple array of stained glass windows, the music fades out.  So do the lights.  It's still dark outside, with the barest hint of dawn drifting weakly through.

The singing starts quietly, with a very different chord structure from anything Rebecca's used to.  It's floaty, ethereal, and sits with dissonance for sometimes as many as several bars before resolving.  Lots of overlapping lines.  Most of it's in a language she can't understand or identify, but for just the bridge it switches back into the one she's been speaking.

O G - o - o - od
(Creator of the stars) (Creator of our hearts) (O Lady, Lady of our hearts)
O G - o - o - od, we watch
(As they shine resolute and singular) (So-o-o-o too do we form our constellations) (Connection, holy and satisfying)
We lo - o - o - ok, out
(To the east) (Your light, which we await) (The sun, too, is a star)

And see

- Dawn
(Dawn) (Dawn) (Dawn)

(And indeed, over the course of the song, the sanctuary has lightened significantly, more and more light streaming through the windows by degrees.)

Oh that's such a pretty observance.

Thekla returns to the pew, very slightly smiling.

Pretty Rebecca writes.

Thekla draws a seven-pointed star (the broader, more sun-like kind) in response.

Back at the pulpit, Mother Dedemos gives a tight twenty-minute talk in the form of a parable, though one written relatively engagingly and with a fair amount of detail.  It's about a woman who lives in the city but visits a nearby small town for her brother's wedding and develops some romantic chemistry with the bride's cousin.  Things are going well until they pay for their meals on a date and this for some reason causes the man to realize the woman is left-handed.  He recoils from her and after the wedding she takes an "aeroplane" back to the city.  Over the course of several argumentative "teleloquer" conversations, he becomes convinced of the non-immorality of her writing method and reveals that he's actually a natural leftie himself, who was taught as a child that he was unnatural.  The woman agrees to a "kinemagraph" date when the man travels to the city for work, but is unsure about whether she wants to try anything further.  She didn't like his initial position and is glad he's becoming more open-minded but doesn't know whether she wants to claim responsibility for his growth by becoming romantically entangled.  And that's before getting into the practicalities of their living situations.

It ends without revealing her decision, and Mother Dedemos instructs the congregation to consider variations on the pattern: what if instead of left-handedness it's dearly-held opinions on vanity; what if you swap their positions; what if she's in favor of something far-out like injecting christblood; what if it's a secular preference instead of a religious conviction; what if it's about having religious convictions at all?

...Rebecca doesn't feel qualified to have a train of thought about any of this, let alone an actual opinion.

Next is a showcase of a few solos and duos from congregation members.  An older couple goes up to perform an instrumental piece with a lot of arpeggios on something guitarish and something flutey; someone reads a poem in the same language that most of the choral song was in, one with a strict enough syllable and rhyming structure that it's quite enjoyable even without being able to pick up any of the meaning; Thekla's presumable grandmother displays surprising nimbleness in dancing to the accompaniment of another woman on an instrument Rebecca has no analogue for.

Aww this part is fun, why doesn't her church do it?

The second hymn selection has not been amended to celebrate Rebecca's arrival.

Stand up, stand up for Mirkes, you soldiers of the light
Lift high his holy banner; serve as his radiant knight
From victory unto victory, his army shall he lead
Till all suffering is vanquished, and each has all they need

Stand up, stand up for Aurles, o heed xir trumpet call
That beckons each to gather in xir communion hall
You that are brave now serve xem, you meet unnumbered ails
A shelter build against them with fellowship's bright nails

Stand up, stand up for Sernes; her strength she lends to you
She calls you to improve in each worthy work you do
Put on the gospel armor, o don each piece in prayer
Until each call and trial your fortitude can bear

Stand up, stand with the Lady, the strife will not be long
This day the noise of battle, the next the victor's song
To those who vanquish evil, a crown of life shall be
They with the Queen of Glory shall reign eternally

There's three Christs here, with those funny names, but who's the Lady? She didn't get the impression that all three Christs had the same mother.

The hymnal holds no answer to this, or at least not on this page.  The Doxology is printed next in the program.

Praise God, all blessing's wellspring source
Praise Her, the author of joy's course
Praise Her, in hardship and dismay
Praise She whose wonders all outweigh
Amen

...well, God isn't really exactly quite a man, but frankly this one skeeves her out.

People start filing out of their rows and downstairs as the recessional plays.  "She was very quiet," comments Thekla of Catherine.

"She's sleepy. And when she's not sleepy she's hungry." Pet pet.

"My cousins had to be carried outside at least once a service when they were her size.  So did I, I've been told."

"Well, maybe she will another time."

"Do you think there'll be a lot of 'another time's for you here?"

"...I guess I kind of have no idea what my next, like, week, will look like."

She nods.  "The main thing I'd think about when deciding whether you want to stay at a convent or someone's house is how hard you expect to find not being able to speak the same language as everyone around you."  She gathers her jacket and bag from the pew's seat.  "Let's go get some pastries."

"Ugh, I stayed in a convent in England for a while." She swaps Catherine onto the other breast. "I liked the singing and everything else about it was awful. My parents had my baby the whole time."

"That sucks.  Someone will help you find a place that isn't awful, and if it turns out to be awful anyway you can go to a different one."

"That's good... I don't know how good I am at learning languages."

"When Christ Sernes comes to town you could prevail upon her to make you better at it."

"She just comes to town every so often like a circus?"

"She's scheduled to in a month but it's her first time coming here.  There are a lot of places and only one of her."

"Wow. Is there like a festival for her or...?"

"Kind of.  She got tired pretty quickly of having nothing but festivals in her honor everywhere she went, but there's still a gathering and an event schedule."  Thekla heads for the outside opening of the pew which her grandparents already left from, since Rebecca is still blocking the middle one.  "Let's go downstairs?  I fast before sunrise services and I want a shot at the good pastries.  Unless there's a reason you don't want to."

"Oh, sure." Down they go.

Thekla gets two paper plates and goes through the line, filling one with a selection of non-chocolate cookies and turnovers and the other with whatever Rebecca wants.  She always uses tongs instead of touching anything with her hands.

What a fastidious custom. Rebecca has been introduced to chocolate just now and is very much in favor.

The hall is nowhere near full capacity; Thekla gets them an empty table.  "How did you like the service?" she asks once they're sat.

"The pretty parts were super pretty but I was confused about a lot of it! Who's the Lady? We pay lots of attention to Mary, our Christ's mother, but I'd gotten the idea that your three didn't all have the same one."

". . . They have the same heavenly mother, in God, but different worldly ones.  The Lady's another name for Her."

"Oh, so it's just part of the same thing as saying God's a her."

"Well, yes.  Is yours not?"

"No, He's a Him."

"Huh...  Is there a lot of sexism in your world?"

"I don't know the word."

"When either of men or women get treated worse than the other, because they're men, or women."

"Well, we're... different, obviously? I don't see how you'd figure one was better off than the other."

"For a long time, and sometimes still today, in places, men were discouraged from acting on their creativity.  I wasn't sure if it was backwards for you, if your God's different.  Though you did say you sung."

"I sing. Men sing too."

"That's good."

"Yup. All the really really good music is harmony and you need all the ranges!"

"I mostly agree."  She picks up a tart and then pauses before eating it.  "Does your world have recorded music?"

"...sheet music?"

"No.  Here, let me..."  She rifles through her bag and extracts a case from which she pulls a curved band with two soft round things on the inside of its ends.  She uses her thumbnail to move something intricate on it with a sharp click, and the circles on the outer side from the soft bits light up orange, then switch to soft amber.  "Put this on," she instructs, passing it across the table.  "Over your ears."

Put!

"Sorry, let me find..."  Thekla spends a while causing a tiny lit-up oval from the case to make more clicky noises.

And then there's music, right in Rebecca's ears (though not over-loud).  It's the arpeggio-y piece from earlier, performed as an a cappella choral piece.

"- ee!"

"Yeah."

Rebecca sways to the beat. This lulls Catherine more deeply asleep than she had already gotten nursing, and Rebecca moves her to her shoulder.

The song stops after a few minutes and nothing comes on to replace it.  "I have an old music player somewhere; you can borrow it if I can find it."  (The ear-things only barely impede Rebecca in hearing this, especially now that they aren't making sound of their own.)

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome.  If I can find it."  Munch munch.  "If you're sticking around for the second service I can have my family bring it to you then."

"I guess I don't have anything else to do besides stay here, so I guess I am."

"It's a lot more... well, you'll find out whether you like modern music."

"Is there something wrong with it?"

"Lots of people like it, and like it more than the stuff you already heard.  I don't really, which is why I come to the earlier service."

"Huh. I guess I'll find out."

Nod.  "Or I could play some for you now."

"Sure!"

Clicky clicky clicky.  "My niece likes this one."

Hello, my name is child of the One true Queen
I've been saved, I've been changed, I have been set free
Surpassing grace is the course I've seen
Hello, my name is child of the One true Queen

Rebecca wiggles about this one. "I'm not sure I recognize all these instruments!"

Thekla smiles into her cobbler.  "Yeah, it makes sense that we'd have ones your world hasn't gotten to.  Or maybe we've just gone in completely different directions.  Have you recognized most of the ones you've heard so far?"

"I think so but maybe my guesses were totally wrong because I didn't know about the new ones!"

"Do you play anything?"

"Piano!"

"We don't have anything called that.  But it could be that we just do names differently."

"...It's got strings inside a big chamber and they're hooked up to little hammers that hit them when you press keys..." She mimes.

"Oh, yeah, we have something like that."

"Oh, good, what's it called here?"

"There are a couple.  The phonochord is the main one used today and the paeslura is an older one that isn't as popular anymore.  And there are probably others."

"Is there a way I could try them?"

"There's the phonochord upstairs."

"Ooh, do you know if it'd be okay for me to try it now?"

"We can go look at it.  If it's not like what you know you should maybe wait until more people are gone to try it."

"If it's not... what?"

"The... something-o?  The instrument that you already know how to play.  This church follows the bounds of beauty, which are mostly about not making people sit through unrefined performances.  I think the sound would carry well enough to kind of count, if you tried something new to you while everyone is still here eating."  

"Oh."

"They'll disperse pretty soon."

"Okay. And whoever's still around won't mind if I experiment with a new instrument?"

"No."  She starts tearing at her empty paper plate, idly.  "You look kind of unhappy about this.  If you really want to go now you can, I just didn't think it was that time-sensitive."

"It's just been a while since I had access to an instrument, that's all."

"... Let me go check something."  She clicky-clickies a new instrumental piece into Rebecca's ears and leaves the table.

Oooooh pretty.

Thekla heads out of the hall and is back before the song's over.  She waits to say anything until it finishes, which is apparently information she can discern by looking at her oval.  "There's a synth in the purple room.  Synths have volume moderation and are generally quiter unless you use a separate thing which makes stuff louder."

"Oooh, cool!"

"Yeah.  Are you done with your plate?"

"...yes? Yeah."

"I can take it to the garbage and then we can go to the purple room, if you want."

"The plate is garbage?"

"Yes."  She sweeps the torn-off flakes of her plate edge onto the mostly-intact main body.  "Paper's pretty cheap here."

"Wow. Disposable paper plates." She will follow Thekla where she leads.

Plates go in a large open bin and then the three of them can go back towards the nursery and into a room painted pastel purple with two tables pushed together in the middle.  Thekla de-cabinets a long box with realistic images of a smiling family clustered around an instrument on it, then de-boxes the instrument.

It's piano-like, in that it has white and black keys. They're in four rows of hexagons, with the first and third rows repeating three white three black and the second and fourth four white two black.  There's no space built in for resonance; the entire thing is less than double the size of the keyboard.  Thekla manipulates something on the side with her fingernail and part of it lights up.

Headtilt. Experimental poke of all the notes serially to see if she can find a scale.

The first thing she notices is that the keys on alternating rows are connected underneath; when she plays the middle black note on the bottom row, the equivalent one on the third row depresses too, and vice versa.  It sounds... kind of like a piano, but not really.  Certainly much less so than the one in the sanctuary did.

But if she follows the three white keys on an odd row and then steps to the four white ones on an even one (and then down or up for the final do), that's a major scale!  (And in fact if she plays that same pattern starting from anywhere it still is, regardless of color.)

Now that she is oriented she will try to pick out The Holly And The Ivy.

The key width difference and unusual vertical element mess up her muscle memory a little bit but other than that it's really not hard, at least while only aiming for a one-note-at-a-time melody.

Oh, it's like when she started playing as a kid and her hands got bigger. Her hands have got bigger again, after a fashion. And also it's gone and crossed itself with an organ. Can she get some Bach happening once she's done a few practice tunes?

Sure!  Does she want Thekla to hold Catherine so she can use both hands?

Sure. She used to be more nervous about handing Catherine off but she did a lot of it on the boat.

There are padded benches around the perimeter of the room; Thekla sits with Catherine on one.  She doesn't seem particularly baby-enthralled though she does occasionally wiggle her fingers at her.

Catherine tolerates this for about six minutes and then starts complaining.

Thekla's fine with this to the extent that Rebecca is.  Does rocking calm her down at all?