“Just a bit of light philosophy.” He sets the book down on the small table by his side. There is nothing light about the book or philosophy. It was my least favorite subject during my school years. I also despised Human Studies. I never saw a point in learning about their rudimentary tools, cumbersome clothes, and filthy lands. They were a constant reminder that not even their lowly lives were low enough for me. Death is the only choice I’m allowed.
“How are you feeling?” he asks. “Any more tears?”
I shrug. “I’ve managed to keep them at bay today, for the most part.”
“Good.”
Godmaster Neo is the caretaker of our Tier. He has been with us since we were four, when we left our Godline homes. I think we’re very lucky we got him, rather than one of the others. There are thirteen in total, same as the number of Godlines. I’m not sure why since Potentials aren’t divided by their family colors, but by age.
Thirteen makes sense for the Pantheon of Godleaders since the odd number prevents a tie when they can’t agree on important matters. But what difference does it make for Potentials? I guess someone really liked that number when they set up this system, thousands of years ago.
“Did Elina get her sigil?” he asks, making small conversation.
“Yes, she seemed really happy up there.”
His handsome face is calm as usual. He looks seventeen like me, but no one with any sense would guess that to be his real age. His sigil says he was born six hundred and seventy-one years ago. His eyes say the same. One look into their dark depths is all anyone should need to figure it out. I guess there are a few other things, but it’s the eyes that I’m best at reading. His are wise and kind, unlike any I’ve ever seen. They are expressive and say more than words ever manage.
“No one was injured during training today. That was good,” he remarks, getting up and walking toward his worktable.
If anyone had been injured today, Godmaster Neo would know. He heals us when we get hurt. Broken bones, rattled brains, deep cuts are nothing to him. He fixed my leg once, and it took him no time even though my foot was pointing in the wrong direction. It was fascinating watching it swivel to its right position. And even more fascinating was how his pain-killing draught allowed me to be fascinated in the first place.
After today, none of us will be healed. Godmaster Neo will be assigned to this year’s new Potentials, a fresh batch of four-year-olds with their own share of nicks and cuts to tend to.
He returns with a kettle, places it in the hearth for an instant, then removes it and goes back to the worktable. Steam rises from the kettle’s spout.
“Do you feel ready for tomorrow?” he asks.
I stare into the pure white center of the Godfire while, behind me, he prepares tea.
“I do.” My voice doesn’t waver, and I’m glad for it. He might have been able to see the lie in my eyes, but his tea-making saved me.
I look over my shoulder. He’s intent on spooning Godfruit honey into the cups, followed by a clear liquid from a small vial. I frown.
He hands me a cup and sits down with his own. Sipping slowly, he peers at me over the edge of the cup.
I taste the brew. It’s different than normal. “What have you put in it?”
“A draught to help you sleep tonight,” he says.
“And you need it, too?”
He sighs. “I’m afraid so.”
His eyes look sad beyond measure. I feel he wants to say something, but holds back. He never talks about the trials or our choice to participate. I don’t even know his opinion on those who decide to Descend without a fight, like Hali. He respects us, and the decisions we make.
“Do you think it takes more courage to live than to die?” I blurt out.
He puts his tea cup down, apprising me. I’ve never broached this subject with him, never discussed my decision with anyone but my friends.
After a moment of contemplation, he says, “Courage within cannot be measured from the outside.”
I wait for more, but he just watches me, taking me apart with his powerful gaze.
Staring at my hands, I think of his words and decide they’re not an answer.
I clear my throat. “I understand what you mean, but I want to know what you think.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. He obviously doesn’t want to answer.
I decide to face the question head on. “Do you think I shouldn’t fight tomorrow?”
“Bia . . .” he says my name like a plea.
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer.” I stand and take the tea cup to his worktable. “I think your draught is starting to work,” I lie.
I stretch and force a yawn but, when I turn to leave, Godmaster Neo is standing behind me.
“I think,” he starts, measuring his words, “you are a realist and understand that your decision to fight means death.”
Honest as always.
“Do I think your decision means lack of courage?” he asks. “No, of course not.”
The way he looks at me tells me he’s about to say more and I’m not going to like it.
“Do I think your decision means you are afraid of a human life?” he pauses, “I do. But you are far from the only one to ever shy away from such a life. Many have come before you, and more are fated to come after you’re gone.”
Anger simmers inside me. I wanted a simple yes or no, and he gives me this? I should have never asked.
“I understand you wish to know what I think of your choice,” he says as if reading my thoughts, “and, though it’s not wise for me to opine, I will talk to you from the bottom of my heart.
“Bia, I don’t wish you to die. For you, I want only life and happiness. You know so little of the world and what it has to offer. There is so much more than Joya d’Diosa and the narrow life you’ve had thus far. Many live happy lives outside this citadel. The world is what we make of it. It can be a dark and sad place, if we so choose. But it can be wonderful if we learn where to look and, more importantly, how to look.”
All the tears I’ve managed to hold back today spill down my cheeks in hot trails. Godmaster Neo reaches out, presses a hand to the side of my face, and wipes a thumb across my cheek. Then he pulls me forward and cradles me against his chest.
Hugs have been a rare commodity in my life. Elina bestows them rarely, though warmly. There have been a few boys, too. They were eager and willing to offer them, but their warmth was ignited by passion. Not real care.
This hug, however, it’s nothing but pure and unadulterated love and tenderness. I know by the way my heart opens without fear, without reservations.
“Your level of courage doesn’t matter to me, Bia. Selfishly, I only care if you live. You are like a daughter to me. I’ve watched you grow and have been delighted every step of the way. I believe you can do great things. There is something about you I have seen in few of my charges—even in my hundreds of years as a caretaker. Allow me to say that I care about you very much.”
I want to tell him that I care, too, that I wish I had the courage to live and, somehow, make him proud. But I’ve seen how little a human life is worth. Mother made sure to show me.
Romer’s blade, in contrast to Mother’s promise, will be swift.
I guess I thought Godmaster Neo would tell me I was being brave. I never expected this disarming show of feeling. He’s only made my decision harder.
Chapter 6
Godmaster Neo’s sleeping draught proves useless against my overactive mind. I lie in bed, eyes wide open, while memories of a faraway, but intensely perturbing day play before my eyes in vivid detail.
I was twelve when Mother took me to Cima, against the mandate that prohibits Potentials from leaving the citadel. She summoned a giant eagle from the tallest peak behind Joya d’Diosa. The creature is one of many that roost amongst the rocks and are bound to serve us. They are the creation of Godleader Jacobo, whose Godskill allows him to enlarge or shrink any living creature.
She forced me to mount,
in spite of my fear. I clung to the feathers, never daring to wrap my arms around Mother’s waist, even though I yearned to do so.
The flight took less than twenty minutes, but my heart kept on hammering for twice that long after we dismounted outside the human city. The whole time I was only able to imagine what a hard time Godmaster Neo would have putting me back together if I toppled off the animal.
Without a word, Mother walked into Cima while I followed, sticking to her as closely as I dared. I hugged myself, feeling cold. Joya d’Diosa’s weather is mild year-round, even as snow blankets everything beyond its walls. We don’t suffer through winter or summer, not when we have inhabitants who can keep our citadel comfortable.
“Stand straight, Bia,” Mother said when she noticed me skulking behind her. “You’re a Goddess. You have nothing to fear from these people.”
I did as she ordered, mimicking her posture as best as I could. With my chin held high, the city slowly took shape before my eyes, becoming more than the irregular road I’d been focused on.
The Albasino I was so used to was nowhere in sight in Cima. The houses appeared small and derelict in comparison to ours. They were made of wood, stone, and terracotta roofs, materials I had only read of in books. An acrid scent floated in the air and clung to my tunic and throat almost immediately.
The few humans we passed prostrated themselves on the ground as soon as they noticed my mother, dirtying their awkward clothing without apparent notice. They pressed their head to the road and never looked up, not once. They looked small, shorter than mother, even before they dropped to the ground.
As we walked deeper into the city, the houses seemed to change. They became bigger, with more space between their neighboring structures. Flowers and trees adorned their fronts, though it seemed a vain effort to make the shoddy buildings look better.
Soon, we reached what Mother said was the center of the city. Here, the streets were cleaner, but still a crude attempt at something that faintly resembled the cobblestone paths of Joya d’Diosa. We passed a fountain and a few statues of questionable craftsmanship. They were covered in bird excrement, made of plain stone, and chipped in several places.
“See that house?” Mother pointed toward the larger house in the square.
I nodded.
Several potted flowers hung from the upstairs’ windows, their many panels glinting with the morning sun. There had been a fair attempt at making the place presentable but, like everywhere else, the effort seemed a waste.
“The person who dwells there once lived in Joya d’Diosa.”
My eyes grew wide. A Potential who had chosen to Descend lived there?!
“Go into the house,” Mother ordered.
I didn’t want to, but I knew better than to disobey. I walked closer and made as if to knock on the door.
“Don’t be foolish! You don’t have to knock,” Mother snapped.
It seemed so rude to just barge in, but it was that or face Mother’s fury. She already was in a foul mood. I didn’t want to make it worse.
With a silent apology, I pushed the door open and walked in. A woman nursing a child rocked in a chair in the corner. She frowned slightly when she noticed me, but paled when Mother stepped behind me.
“Godleader Helena!” she said, throwing a blanket over the child. “What an honor. Let me get my husband for you.”
An older child came bounding down a narrow hall, singing a happy tune. He stopped and looked between us and his mother.
“Come, darling. Let’s get Papa. He has visitors.”
The child went reluctantly, throwing glances over his shoulder as his mother dragged him away by the arm.
My eyes roved around the room, taking in every detail. A strange fire burned inside a black hole in the wall, barely heating the room. Sagging pieces of furniture were strewn haphazardly around the room. A large patterned cloth spread on the floor, which purpose seemed solely to collect dust and muddy footprints. Heavy curtains hung from the wall, framing the windows and also collecting dust.
I’d barely taken in these details when a man came rushing down the hall, stuffing a colorful piece of cloth down his neck. He wore trousers stuffed into boots, the way we did when we rode Godleader Jacobo’s horses. The cuffs of a shirt that might once have been white peeked through the sleeves of a heavy black jacket that was surely designed to keep him warm.
He inclined his head. “Godleader Helena. Welcome to my humble home. How may I be of service?”
The man’s deferential attitude caught me off guard. In Joya d’Diosa, everyone treats her with respect. She’s one of our leaders, after all. But respect was the last thing in the man’s expression. He looked terrified.
I tried to guess his age, but it was impossible. He certainly wasn’t seventeen, but I had no idea how to calculate how many years he’d been alive. His face wasn’t smooth, but there was no gray in his hair, as I knew elderly human possessed. He was a father of young children, so maybe forty? I shook my head, feeling stupid. I really had no idea.
“This is my daughter,” Mother said. “I wanted her to meet someone who chose to Descend.” She said it as if he’d chosen to grow a second, and then a third head.
“That would be me, young Goddess,” he said, inclining his head in my direction.
I took a step back, unaccustomed to being . . . feared. Why would he fear me? He knew nothing about me. I didn’t even have a Godskill, like Mother. Though, of course, he didn’t know that.
My lips pressed into a line. I refused to say anything, whether Mother expected it or not. It turned out she didn’t. I was there to watch and learn. Nothing else.
“And do you like this life?” Mother turned an entire circle, noting the man’s possessions.
“Um, it could never be compared to my life in Joya d’Diosa,” the man chose his words carefully, “but it isn’t entirely bad. I have a family, a roof over my head. Cima’s residents respect me.” Noting something in my mother’s expression, he stopped abruptly and looked at his boots. “I do, however, wish I would have been able to Ascend and remain a God, but I wasn’t that fortunate.” He added this last bit in haste, and with a tone that didn’t sound as sincere as that of his initial words.
“How old are you?” Mother asked.
“I am twenty-eight, Godleader.”
“So, a mere eleven years you’ve lived in Cima?”
He nodded.
Eleven years represented more than ninety percent of my life up to that point, and it seemed like quite a bit. But Mother thought nothing of it. She’d been alive for over seven hundred years.
She took a few steps toward the man. His eyes grew wide and darted from the floor to Mother, then back again. He looked like a cornered animal. The way Godleader Jacobo’s regular-sized horses looked when his huge, summit eagles flew by.
“It must seem like a long time to you?” she asked in a low purr such I’d never heard from her.
I fidgeted on the spot, wishing I could go outside.
She continued, “Lots of work and toil to make a place for yourself, despite the advantages being a former God must have provided.”
To my surprise, she placed a finger on the man’s jaw and slid it down to his chin. There, she tapped it a few times.
Suddenly, he made a choking sound and placed a hand on his chest, his gaze dancing from side to side. I took a step back and ran into a wall. I didn’t know what was happening, but I sensed it was bad.
“And then, in the blink of an eye,” Mother continued in the same low purr, “all the things you’ve worked so hard to build”—she waved a hand in the air—“just disappear.”
“Please don’t . . . hurt my family,” the man said in a choked voice.
“Oh, but I will,” Mother said. She touched his arm this time, and he gave a muffled scream full of pain and horror.
I couldn’t understand what was happening, until I noticed his hand. It had tuned into perfectly smooth Albasino.
My mother had petrified his
arm.
“Is something the matter?” The man’s wife came into the room, her bosom heaving, her face twisted in a grimace.
“Lina, leave! Take the children and leave!” the man choked.
His wife shook her head, seeming to refuse, but then started walking backward very slowly.
“Don’t move!” Mother commanded, but the woman didn’t obey.
“How dare you ignore my command? I meant to show mercy, but now . . .” Mother walked past the woman in search of the children.
“Mother, no!” I begged, but it was as if she’d forgotten I was there.
The woman grabbed Mother’s arm and tried to pull her back, but she was no match for a strong Goddess and ended up on the floor after a mere flick of Mother’s arm.
I watched helplessly as the woman climbed back to her feet, screaming her children’s names. The man who had once been a God fought to move, but half of his body had become as hard and heavy as Joya d’Diosa’s walls.
Before I could decide what to do, Mother reappeared, throwing a scornful glance toward the woman who was now crawling on all fours toward the room Mother had just vacated.
As Mother went back to toying with the man, petrifying him part by part, a scream tore from the bowels of the house that made every tiny hair on my body stand on end.
“Monster, monster! What have you done to my children?”
Tears slid down one of the man’s eyes. The other one was white and unblinking, forever Godhoned into Albasino.
The woman came back intent on pulling Mother’s eyes out like a furious eagle protecting its offspring. But she froze just as she launched forward, her fingers curved into claws, her face a grotesque mask of pain and savage fury—the Albasino seeming liquid at first, fluid like molten metal, then it solidified, artfully shaping itself into the finest details, down to every hair in the woman’s eyebrow.
“Don’t you wish you would have died instead?” Mother asked the man whose life hung from a wicked thread. “A human life is a disgrace. No God should ever choose it. No God should be allowed to—no matter if this is what we’ve done for millennia. You are proof that changes are needed. I know what you’ve been up to,” Mother whispered in the man’s ear.
Godmaker (Jeweled Goddess Book 1) Page 4
