Freshly shaved, showered, dressed and all round clean, Ravar walked down the steps that followed the square contours of his house, went past the hallway of the upper floor, and entered the open plan downstairs. A steady thrumming buzz filled the place, a riot of pollen born haze everywhere.

Hornets without number flitted here and there in lazy trails, alien and strange in their bright jackets; orange, red, yellow, even a few blue and black ones. Red roses and purple orchids, those plants offered to the only Goddess, were set out in rectangular plots on the windowsills around the place.

He threw the towel that he’d been drying his hair with into the laundry basket, walked into the kitchen on the opposite side. A series of counters separated it from the living/dining area, a doorway leading to the garden situated between the counters and stairs he’d just come down. Books littered the three living space couches, a few empty mugs, a stack of magazines on writing and calligraphy, one pile of essays to grade. A dining table with eight chairs spaced around its edges lay equidistant between the couches.

Ravar bent down to examine the newest hornet that had followed him home by the dinner he’d had to leave at the snappy summons from the statue. The triangular alien face was curled into its stinger tail. Noodles with peppers and tamarind sauce, now cold. He picked it up and began eating, walked around the place, thinking.

July lay around the corner of night, the first day of his last month and year in service, training to the Goddess Marquesa. She’d given him many gifts in return for his pledge of soul allegiance, and all had been decadently wonderful in ways that he’d never thought conceivable. But then, a Goddess may grant many things to her followers. 3 years is what she’d asked of him, and he’d given the time willingly, his worship becoming more ardent as the months went on.

Regular, and sometimes sporadic, visits, from her female servants in the dream time- and physical reality -had bolstered his ability to surrender his skills and talents to her. One for each year, and each one had taught him new things, new and better ways to service his Mistress. She wanted him to be ready over the course of the three years, to be able to serve her as she wished it. To what end, for what purpose, he was unable to fathom. How does a mortal come to understand the whims of a Goddess?
With service, of course.