“They seem really nice,” Sylvael said, brows drawn down, and she was chewing on her lower lip, fingers busy with the charms on her bracelet. “I don’t think they deserve... you know.”

“People are usually not this nice,” I said. “Those are the goals of this place, or at least the ones they’ll admit to, but that doesn’t mean that’s the reality of it. I don’t want to bring too much out of the caravan, in case we need to make a quick exit—or in case anyone around here is too curious. But we could grab a couple of days of clothes, at least.” The caravan had quite a good lock on the door, an expensive one with multiple nested dials that all had to be in the right positions—we had discovered that keys were entirely too easy to lose while working our way through ancient sites. Money was further hidden in multiple secret compartments, and some of Sylvael’s books were quite expensive, but it seemed unlikely we’d be robbed outright.

“Okay. But I really want to take a look at the buildings. I wonder if they have a library.”

“Astrenna did mention books as a thing people enjoy, so that seems likely. Let’s just fetch a few basics, and then we’ll go explore.”

On our way out, we were greeted by a slender woman with a long iron-grey braid, in brightly-coloured loose trousers and a simple halter-top; she was just going into the apartment next to us. With no apparent concern at all about newcomers, she introduced herself and invited us to join her and her closest friends for tea sometime soon.

That was repeated twice more, with minor variations, on the way to the caravan.

Five women, wildly diverse in age and build, colouring and costume, were leaning against the pasture fence; Rav, ever the ham, was happily soliciting petting and apple slices.

“That horse is shameless,” I murmured to Syl.

“He’s having fun.”

One of the women, a middle-aged blonde, hailed us. “Are these lovely newcomers yours?”

“Yes,” I said. “Although they might not want to leave. They’re both very gentle.”

“What are their names?”

“Syl, that’s your cue.”

I left Sylvael outside, cheerfully telling an appreciative audience about our boys and their original namesakes, while I gathered up a few essentials that we’d likely want overnight.

“You live in here?”

I glanced back at the young woman in the doorway, who was gazing around inquisitively.

“Yes. We travel a lot, sometimes long distances, and if we had a house somewhere we’d rarely get to see it. This way, we bring our home with us. It isn’t great luxury. A hot bath has to wait until we’re renting a room at an inn, or something along those lines. But it’s much better than sleeping on the ground in a tent, and it’s better than an open fire for cooking most things.” I gestured to the compact stove. Honestly, the bed across the back, with its window above it, was pretty comfortable. With the sliding doors closed, the compartment beneath, which had been intended as a sleeping space for children, could probably be overlooked; Sylvael’s book collection lived there, and it doubled as a retreat for him when the world was overwhelming and he just needed quiet.

“There are cabinets and cupboards everywhere,” the girl observed.

“Yes. The people who first began to make these were excellent at finding ways to fit as much as possible into a very small space.” I saw no need to point out that there was storage space under the bench seats as well.

“It looks like a wonderful solution, if you travel so much. Where do you go?”

“Everywhere. People hire us to go into forgotten places and find artefacts that have been lost for generations.”

“That sounds exciting! You must have many stories. Would you be willing to tell us any of them?”

“I suppose we could come up with a few that might be interesting.”

“That would be wonderful! But there’s no need to hurry, you’ve barely arrived. Do you need help carrying anything?”

“I have it, thanks. I’m not sure how long we’re staying. We heard a story about a hidden temple here, and we were in the area without a job lined up so we thought we’d investigate. We weren’t expecting to find a thriving community.”

She laughed. “It would take more than a day or two, to understand the Omphalos and how unique and wonderful it is. But of course, stay for as long as you’re happy here.” She spun around and all but danced down the steps to the ground.

I finished collecting clothes and sundry other items we might want, then went to the door. “Sylvael?” I called. “Anything else you want right away?”

Sylvael shook her head. “I’ll come get it if I think of anything.”

I closed the caravan door and spun the lock.

The young woman who had been curious, a petite brunette wearing what appeared to be only a length of fabric wrapped and tied into a simple dress, said, “No one would go inside without permission even if it were unlocked.”

“Old habit,” I said. “Not any lack of trust in you specifically.”

She shrugged and smiled. “It really doesn’t make any difference either way, but if it makes you feel better, then it’s worth it. What places have you travelled to?”

“Oh, lots,” Sylvael said, joining us. “Hi. I’m Sylvael.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I’m Tanis.”

“Keva,” I said. “Astrenna said it’s okay for us to just explore?”

“Oh, yes! Of course it is. It’s absolutely safe here. The Gate protects us and the Sisters watch over us.”

“Sisters?”

“Astrenna and the others. Since it’s safe, we really don’t care about secrecy or locks. The Omphalos belongs to the goddess, not to any of us.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing the architecture of the buildings,” Sylvael said. “Is there a library?”

“Of course there is! What kind of paradise doesn’t have a library? There are a few people who practically live there. They know every book we have and they’re very good at helping with finding anything you’re looking for.”

We paused by the residences to drop off the clothes, leaving them on a couch on the ground floor, then went wandering, with Tanis as an enthusiastic guide.

Sylvael was enthralled by the architecture; I was far more interested in the people.

We saw a woman posing naked on the rim of a fountain while another worked on a painting on a wooden easel. Neither paid any attention to us.

On a broad bench beneath a weeping tree that partly hid them, at least two women, possibly three, were being quite active at something eliciting both giggles and moans.

A woman sat on a blanket, a book in her lap, reading passages out loud while a second woman was braiding the hair of the first with beads and ribbons; it took me a moment to realize that the reader had only one leg and there was a pair of sturdy crutches nearby that had been painted bright hues.

One woman was dragging a string around in the grass for a litter of tabby kittens, with an adult who must be their mother supervising alertly; nearby, a pavilion akin to that near the Gate but with a flat floor housed a trio of unfamiliar but simple vertical looms, and while all bore projects in progress, one of them showed clear signs of someone having just stepped away from it.

A woman with her back to a tree practiced quietly with a stringed instrument I didn’t recognize, her eyes wandering without tracking or settling despite the sporadic conversation with two other women near her.

Everywhere I looked, I saw variations on the theme. There was no pattern to appearances: these women seemed to have come from all across the world, were of every age, and dressed however they saw fit. All were in reasonably good condition.

What I didn’t see was anyone doing the kinds of hard dirty labour that were generally required to keep life going, let alone to allow for all this relaxed creativity and affection and sensuality being displayed indiscriminately on all sides.

It was saying something, believe me, that one woman strolling by caught the eye. Fairly tall, she had a toned body with just the right amount of softness, and that was very obvious because she wore absolutely nothing except a collar of red leather. Her skin was a soft beige-brown; the hair cropped to jaw-length was a sort of dark dirty-blonde. I couldn’t even begin to guess her age. She moved with absolute confidence, and several women called greetings to her, which were returned cheerfully.

“Hi, Rose,” Tanis called.

The collared woman glanced in our direction, and altered her path, maybe curious about the newcomers.

“Rose, this is Keva, and this is Sylvael,” Tanis said. “This is Rose.”

Rose smiled. “Welcome to the Omphalos. Did you just arrive?”

“Not long ago,” I said. “Tanis has been showing us around.”

Rose inclined her head; a lock of hair fell across her face, and she brushed it back absently. Up close, it was no easier to guess at her age: there were a few strands of white glinting in her hair, and a trace of lines at the corners of her eyes, but she was in spectacular condition. “If you think of anything that would make you happy, feel free to let me know. I’d be glad to help.” She tapped the red collar. “Or either of the others wearing one of these.”

“It means something?” Sylvael said inquisitively.

“It means,” Rose said, “that we’ve each taken a vow not to decline any request, as long as it doesn’t endanger anyone including us, and to keep requests to ourselves. The Sisters will allow only a year at a time, and then only after several shorter steps.” She smiled. “But they don’t stop me from renewing my vow every year.”

“Would it be rude to ask why?”

“Why I take that vow?” Sylvael nodded. “Because it makes me feel wonderful to make others feel wonderful and help them explore what makes them happy. Even here, it’s sometimes easier to ask me than to try to find someone who has specific compatible interests. And even where there’s no shame, they may prefer to ask someone who officially will never gossip about it.” She grinned, suddenly mischievous. “And because I’m an unrepentant hedonist willing to try anything. But it isn’t always sexual. I’ve been asked for honest thoughts on a new song, to model for a painting, to be extra hands planting flowers... it doesn’t matter. And that’s the whole point: whatever someone asks. So, if anything takes your fancy while you’re here, please, feel free to let me know. Could you excuse me? I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

“Of course,” I said. “Don’t let us stop you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She winked, and went on her way.

“I was going to ask her why she isn’t wearing any clothes,” Sylvael said.

“Because,” Tanis said, “Rose decided ages ago that since she was giving herself to the whole community, she had nothing to hide from anyone and everyone was entitled to see her as she is. And also that she likes the sensation of the sun and wind on her skin. Being naked doesn’t really matter much here, but no one else is so determined. She’s a really amazing person.”

“She sounds remarkable,” I said. It would be an appallingly dangerous vow in most of the world, but in a place that was genuinely safe and supportive, it could certainly make for an interesting and intense experience.

The unexpectedly melodic ringing of a bell, or rather a whole series of them in tuned harmony, interrupted any reply.

“That’s the meal bell,” Tanis said. “We eat together in the dining room, at least most of the time. See?” She tilted her head to indicate the women around us, who were unhurriedly packing up whatever they were doing, or even just leaving it where it was if that was feasible.

“Lead on,” I said. “And thank you for taking the time to show us around.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all.”

The dining hall held over a dozen tables—rectangular ones that appeared to hold eight people each, filling without haste as women trickled in.

“Oh, hello,” someone new said. “I hope you’re enjoying exploring.”

“Hi, Lunessa,” Tanis said cheerfully.

“Hi, Tanis. Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

This new woman was certainly striking: she was slender, and very pale. Her skin was the colour of milk, and her curly shoulder-length hair near-white with just a faint blush of blue. She wore a knee-length skirt that flared out just below her hips, and a sleeveless top cropped to show her abdomen, both midnight blue. A hammered metal choker circled her throat, this one black, with dangly earrings to match.

Her smile was gentle and friendly, and the bright blue of her eyes warm as summer sky.

“Astrenna mentioned that we have company,” she added.

“Everyone’s been very welcoming,” I said, “especially to a couple of explorers who just happened to stumble over you.”

“Does it matter how you got here? You’re here now. Have a good meal.” Still smiling, she turned away.

Tanis urged us to an empty table.

“One of the Sisters who look after everything?” I guessed.

Tanis nodded. “Yes.”

“Where do you get enough food for so many people?”

“Some of it grows here. We have beautiful gardens, and greenhouses too. Some of it we trade for. There are traders who will bargain for some of what gets produced here. Paintings, weavings, things like that.”

I spotted a different kind of motion, as several women began to circulate, delivering platters and large serving bowls and pitchers to each table. Each was wearing a leather collar—some white, some black. The ones in the white collars were dressed fairly normally by local standards, while those wearing black ones were either wearing little more than Rose had been, or were wearing complicated clothing that was probably not all that practical.

Were those collars as voluntary as the red one? Or not?

“Who makes the meals?” I asked Tanis, as we sat down at one table.

“We take turns, mostly. There are a few people who really like to cook, and they trade turns in the kitchen. Some others take turns helping them out, cutting things up and doing dishes and serving and all. Some people prefer other chores. Anyone in a black collar, it’s okay to tease and play. A white collar means that teasing isn’t okay right now so just let them work. I mean, don’t shun them or anything, but no games.” She reached out with a giggle to tickle the navel of a woman currently setting a large basket of bread on our table. “Right, Vi? Teasing only on the right people.”

The woman in question winked. “Makes boring jobs less dull. Welcome to the Omphalos.” She flirted her scantily-clad hips in Tanis’ direction, then excused herself and left.

A trio of women paused by our table, and one asked, “Private conversation?”

“I don’t think so,” Tanis said, and looked questioningly at Sylvael and I.

“Are you doing okay?” I asked Syl. “Not too much?” Probably they wouldn’t be deeply offended if I declined further company. Certainly I would care less about that than protecting Syl.

Sylvael considered that, toying with her bracelet, then shook her head. “Not too much. Everyone’s been really nice and not confusing.”

“We try,” one of the newcomers said. “We don’t want to make you feel crowded.”

“If Syl says h... she’s okay, then it’s fine,” I said.

“I don’t like crowds either,” another said sympathetically, settling herself next to Sylvael. “I spend a lot of time in the library.”

Magic words: Sylvael oriented on her immediately.

I left them to it, and turned my own attention to making more friends and finding out more information.