"Yes." The elder nods, and then, "You are allowed to withdraw funds donated to the temple for your deeds and acts. You may use these for anything." He explains, politely, glancing at Rekhyt.
"She is a young goddess. I will explain the rest. Thanks geezer." Rekhyt turns, giving a lift of his hand in a wave to the priests. '
"I'll be back to tour the temple tomorrow night -- and learn more." You tell the elder, bowing your head. He gives a smile and a tit of his head in return. He takes his place by the fire in silence while the youth hurries off to find a new duty.
"What was that all about?" You question, out of ear shot.
"How to explain this..." Rekhyt tugs off his mask, tossing it into the air and deftly catching the heavy porcelien. "Our gods are man-made. Crafted with a brand and a mask. At night men and women put on their masks and play their part. Equal parts entertainment and proselytizing. Killing another god is frowned upon, but is accepted --" After a beat, "The last fire god died when he was knifed in a back alley. The God of Theives swore it wasn't her, but no one believes it."
"For example -- I am Khudal, the jester, god of the outcast. The people of the street pray to me for safety. The Orphans are my wards. I believe i am the third within this city and one of two, total."
You chew on the inside of your lip for a moment, glancing down at your own mask. "This...this is the mask of their god?"
"That temple's, yes. It mysteriously disappeared last night. Somehow, there was a ring of ash and soot around it, a firepoppy where it once sat and a smoke in the air. Surely a sign that Fire-Blooms-Flowers was reborn, right?"