I stepped away from Madding, intending to go to the panting man. Madding pulled me sharply back, his hand like a vise on my arm. I stumbled, protesting, “But—”
“Not now, Oree,” Madding said. He didn’t use that tone with me often, but I had learned long ago that it meant danger when he did.
If this had been any other situation, I would have happily stepped behind him and tried to make myself as unnoticeable as possible. I was in a dark alley in the back end of beyond, surrounded by dead men and gods whose tempers were up. For all I knew, there wasn’t another mortal anywhere in shouting distance. Even if there had been, what in the infinite hells could they have done to help?
“What’s happened to the Keepers?” I whispered to Madding. It was an unnecessary question; they had finally stopped sizzling. “How did Shiny kill them?”
“Shiny?”
To my great dismay, it was Sieh’s voice. I hadn’t wanted to draw his attention or that of the blonde woman. Yet Sieh seemed honestly delighted. “Shiny? Is that what you call him? Really?”
I swallowed, tried to speak, then tried again when the first try failed. “He won’t give me his name, so… I had to call him something.”
“Did you, now?” The boy, sounding amused, came closer. I was a good deal taller than him, I guessed by the direction of his voice, but that was not as comforting as it should have been. I could still see nothing of him, not even an outline or a shadow, which meant that he was better than most godlings at concealing himself. I couldn’t even smell him. I could feel him, though; his presence filled the whole alley in a way that none of the other godlings’ did.
“Shiny,” the boy said again, contemplative. “And he answers to that name?”
“Not exactly.” I licked my lips and decided to take a chance. “Is he all right?”
The boy abruptly turned away. “Oh, he’ll be fine. He has no choice but to be fine, doesn’t he?” He was angrier now, I realized, my heart sinking into my stomach. I had made things worse. “No matter what happens to his mortal body, no matter how many times he abuses it—and, yes, oh yes, I know about that, did you think I didn’t?” He was speaking to Shiny again, and his voice practically trembled with fury. “Did you think I wouldn’t laugh at you, so proud, so arrogant, dying over and over because you can’t be bothered to take the most basic care?”
There was a sudden jostling sound and a grunt from Shiny. And another sound, unmistakable: a blow. The boy had hit or kicked him. Madding’s hand tightened on my arm, inadvertently I think. A reaction to whatever he was seeing. Sieh was barely coherent, snarling out his words. “Did you think”—another kick, this one harder; godlings were far stronger than they seemed—“I wouldn’t”—Kick—“love to help you along?” Kick.
And an echo: the wet snap of bone. Shiny cried out, and at this I could not help myself; I opened my mouth to protest.
But before I could, another voice spoke, so softly that I almost missed it. “Sieh.”
Stillness.
All at once, Sieh became visible. He was a boy, small and spindly looking, almost Maroneh-colored, though with an unkempt flop of straight hair. Not at all threatening to look at. As he appeared, he stood frozen, his eyes wide with surprise, but all at once he turned.
In the space that he faced, another godling appeared. This one was also a tiny thing, a full head shorter than me and barely larger than Sieh, yet there was something about her that hinted at strength. Possibly her attire, which was strange: a long, gray sleeveless vest that bared her slim, tight brown arms, and leggings that stopped at midcalf. Below them she was barefoot. She looked, I thought at first, the way I’d heard High Northers described, but her hair was wrong—curled and wild instead of straight, and chopped boyishly short. And her eyes were wrong, too, though I could not quite fathom how. What color was that? Green? Gray? Something else entirely?
At the corner of my vision, I saw Madding stiffen, his eyes going wide and round. One of his lieutenants uttered a swift, soft curse.
“Sieh,” the quiet woman said again, her tone disapproving.
Sieh scowled, in that moment looking like nothing more than a sulky little boy caught doing something wrong. “What? It’s not like he’s really mortal.”
Off to the side, the blonde goddess, Lil, looked at Shiny with interest. “He smells mortal enough. Sweat and pain and blood and fear, so nice.”
The new goddess glanced at her, which didn’t seem to bother Lil at all, then focused on Sieh again. “This wasn’t what we had in mind.”
“Why shouldn’t I kick him to death now and again? He’s not even trying to fulfill the terms you set. He might as well entertain me.”
The goddess shook her head, sighing, and went to him. To my surprise, Sieh did not resist as she pulled him into an embrace, cupping one hand at the back of his head. He held stiff against her, not reciprocating, but even I could see that he did not mind being held.
“This serves no purpose,” she said in his ear, and so tender was her tone that I could not help thinking of my own mother, miles away in Nimaro Territory. “It doesn’t help. It doesn’t even hurt him, not in any way that matters. Why do you bother?”
Sieh turned his face away, his hands clenching at his sides. “You know why!”
“Yes, I know. Do you?”
When Sieh spoke again, I could hear the strain in his voice. “No! I hate him! I want to kill him forever!”
But then the dam broke, and he sagged against her, dissolving into tears. The quiet goddess sighed and pulled him closer, seemingly content to comfort him for however long it took.
I marveled at this for a moment, torn between awe and pity, then remembered Shiny on the ground nearby, his breathing labored now.
Surreptitiously I edged away from Madding, who was watching the tableau with the oddest look on his face, something I could not interpret. Sorrow, maybe. Chagrin. It didn’t matter. While he and the others were preoccupied, I went over to Shiny. It was definitely him; I recognized his peculiar spice-and-metal scent. When I crouched to examine him, I found his back as hot as a fever and completely drenched in what I hoped was only sweat. He had bent in on himself in a huddle, his fists clenched tight, in obvious agony.
His condition enraged me. I lifted my eyes to glare at Sieh and the quiet goddess—and with a deep chill, I found her watching me over Sieh’s bony shoulder. Hadn’t her eyes been gray-green before? They were yellowish green now, and not at all warm.
“Interesting,” she said. Beside her, Sieh turned to peer at me, too, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand. She kept a hand on his shoulder with absent affection and said to me, “Are you his lover?”
“She’s not,” said Madding.
The woman threw him the mildest of looks, and Madding’s jaw flexed. It was as close to fear as I had ever seen him come.
“I’m not,” I blurted. I didn’t know what was going on, why Madding seemed so wary of this woman and the child-god, but I knew I didn’t want Madding getting in trouble for my folly. “Shiny lives with me. We… he’s…” What should I say? Never lie to a godling, Mad had warned me long ago. Some of them had spent millennia studying humankind. They could not read minds, but the language of our bodies was an open book. “I’m his friend,” I said at last.
The boy exchanged a look with the goddess, and then both of them turned unnerving, enigmatic gazes on me. I noticed only then that Sieh’s pupils were slitted, like those of a snake or cat.
“His friend,” said Sieh. His face was expressionless now, his eyes dry, his voice without inflection. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.
It sounded so weak. “Yes,” I said. “It’s… how I… think of myself, anyway.” Another silence fell, and in it, I grew ashamed. I didn’t even know Shiny’s real name. “Please just stop hurting him.” It was a whisper this time.
Sieh sighed, and so did the woman. The feeling that I was walking a narrow bridge over a very deep chasm began to fade.
“You call yourself his
friend,” the woman said. There was compassion in her voice, to my surprise. And her eyes were darker green now, shading toward hazel. “Does he call you the same?”
So they had noticed. “I don’t know,” I said, hating her for asking that question. I did not look at Shiny, who was still beside me. “He doesn’t talk to me.”
“Ask yourself why,” drawled the boy.
I licked my lips. “There are many reasons why a man would hesitate to speak about his past.”
“Few of those reasons are good. His certainly aren’t.” With a last contemptuous look, Sieh turned and walked away.
He paused, however, a look of surprise crossing his face, when the quiet woman suddenly moved forward, coming over to Shiny and me. When she crouched, balancing easily on her bare toes, I caught a fleeting sense of the real her, the goddess underneath her unimposing shell, and it staggered me. Where Sieh had filled the alley, she filled… what? It was too vast to grasp, too detailed. The ground beneath my knees. Every brick and speck of mortar, every struggling weed and smear of mildew. The air. The muckbins at the back of the alley. Everything.
And then it was gone, just as fast, and she was just a small High Norther woman with eyes that made me think of a dark, wet forest.
“You’re very lucky,” she said. I was confused at first; then I realized she was speaking to Shiny. “Friends are precious, powerful things—hard to earn, harder still to keep. You should thank this one for taking a chance on you.”
Shiny twitched beside me. I could not see what he did, but the woman’s expression changed to one of annoyance. She shook her head and got to her feet.
“Be careful of him,” she said. To me this time. “Be his friend if you like—if he lets you. He needs you more than he realizes. But for your own sake, don’t love him. He’s not ready for that.”
I could only stare at her, mute with awe. She turned away, then paused as she walked past Madding.
“Role,” she said.
He nodded, as if he’d been expecting her attention. “We’re doing everything we can.” He threw me a quick, uneasy glance. “Even the mortals are looking into it. Everyone wants to know how this happened.”
She nodded, slowly and solemnly. For an instant too long she was silent. Gods did that sometimes, contemplating the unfathomable, though they usually tried not to do it when mortals were around. Perhaps this one wasn’t used to mortals yet.
“You have thirty days,” she said suddenly.
Madding went stiff. “To find Role’s killer? But you promised—”
“I said we wouldn’t interfere in mortal affairs,” she said sharply. Madding fell silent at once. “This is family.”
After a moment, Madding nodded, though he still looked uncomfortable. “Yes. Yes, of course. And, ah—”
“He is angry,” said the woman, and for the first time she looked troubled herself. “Role didn’t take sides in the war. But even if she had… you’re still his children. He still loves you.” She paused and glanced at Madding, but Madding looked away. I guessed that she spoke of Bright Itempas, who was said to be the father of all the godlings. Naturally, He would take exception to the death of His child.
The woman continued. “So, thirty days. I’ve convinced him to stay out of it for that long. After that”—she paused, then shrugged—“you know his temper better than I do.”
Madding went very pale.
With that, the woman turned to join the boy, both of them clearly intending to leave. From the corner of my eye, I saw one of Madding’s lieutenants exhale in relief. I should have been relieved, too. I should have stayed quiet. But as I watched the woman and boy walk away, I could think of only one thing: they knew Shiny. Hated him, perhaps, but knew him.
I groped for my walking stick. “Wait!”
Madding looked at me like I had lost my mind, but I ignored him. The woman stopped, not turning back, but the child did, looking at me in surprise. “Who is he?” I asked, pointing at Shiny. “Will you tell me his name?”
“Oree, gods damn it.” Madding stepped forward, but the woman held up a graceful hand and he went still.
Sieh only shook his head. “The rules are that he live among mortals as a mortal,” he said, glancing beyond me at Shiny. “None of you comes into this world with a name, so neither does he. He gets nothing unless he earns it himself. Since he’s not trying very hard, that means he’ll never have much. Except a friend, apparently.” He eyed me briefly and looked sour. “Well… like Mother said, even he gets lucky sometimes.”
Mother, I noted, with the part of my mind that remained fascinated by such things even after years of living in Shadow. Godlings did mate among themselves sometimes. Was Shiny Sieh’s father, then?
“Mortals don’t come into the world with nothing,” I said carefully. “We have history. A home. Family.”
Sieh’s lip curled. “Only the fortunate ones among you. He doesn’t deserve to be that lucky.”
I shuddered and inadvertently thought of how I’d found Shiny, light and beauty discarded like trash. All this time I had assumed misfortune on his part; I had speculated that he suffered from some godly disease, or an accident that had stripped all but a vestige of his power. Now I knew his condition had been deliberately imposed. Someone—these very gods, perhaps—had done this to him, as a punishment.
“What in the infinite hells did he do?” I murmured without thinking.
I didn’t understand the boy’s reaction at first. I would never be as good at perceiving things with my eyes as I was with my other senses, and the look on Sieh’s face alone was not enough for me to interpret. But when he spoke, I knew: whatever Shiny had done, it had been truly terrible, because Sieh’s hate had once been love. Love betrayed has an entirely different sound from hatred outright.
“Maybe he’ll tell you himself one day,” he said. “I hope so. He doesn’t deserve a friend, either.”
Then he and the woman vanished, leaving me alone among gods and corpses.
4
“Frustration”
(watercolor)
BY NOW YOU’RE PROBABLY CONFUSED. That’s all right; so was I. The problem wasn’t just my misunderstanding—though that was part of it—but also history. Politics. The Arameri, and maybe the more powerful nobles and priests, probably know all this. I’m just an ordinary woman with no connections or status, and no power beyond a walking stick that makes an excellent club in a pinch. I had to figure everything out the hard way.
My education didn’t help. Like most people, I was taught that there were three gods once, and then there was a war between them, which left two. One of them wasn’t actually a god anymore—though he was still very powerful—so really that left just one. (And a great many godlings, but we never saw them.) For most of my life, I was raised to believe that this state of affairs was ideal, because who wants a bunch of gods to pray to when one will do? Then the godlings returned.
Not just them, though. Suddenly the priests began to say odd prayers and write new teaching poems into the public scrolls. Children learned new songs in the White Hall schools. Where once the world’s people had been required to offer their praises only to Bright Itempas, now we were urged to honor two additional gods: a Lord of Deep Shadows and someone called the Gray Lady. When people questioned this, the priests simply said, The world has changed. We must change with it.
You can imagine how well that went over.
It wasn’t as chaotic as it might have been, though. Bright Itempas abhors disorder, after all, and the people who were most upset were the ones who had taken His tenets to heart. So quietly, peacefully, and in an orderly fashion, those people just stopped attending services at the White Halls. They kept their children at home for schooling, teaching them as best they could on their own. They stopped paying tithes, even though this had once meant prison or worse. They committed themselves to preserving the Bright, even as the whole world seemed determined to turn a little darker.
Everyone else held their breath, waiti
ng for the slaughter to begin. The Order answers to the Arameri family, and the Arameri do not tolerate disobedience. Yet no one was imprisoned. There were no disappearances, of individuals or towns. Local priests visited parents, exhorting them to bring their children back to school for the children’s sake, but when the parents refused, their children were not taken away. The Order-Keepers issued an edict that everyone was to pay a basal tithe to cover public services; those who didn’t do this were punished. But for people who chose not to tithe to the Order—nothing.
No one knew what to make of that. So there were other quiet rebellions, these more challenging to the Bright. Everywhere, heretics started worshipping their gods openly. Some nation up in High North—I can’t recall which one—declared that it would teach children its own language first, then Senmite, instead of the other way around. There were even people who chose to worship no god at all, despite new ones appearing in Shadow every day.
And the Arameri have done nothing.
For centuries, millennia, the world has danced to a single flute. In some ways, this has been our most sacred and inviolable law: thou shalt do whatever the hells the Arameri say. For this to change… well, that’s more frightening to most of us than any shenanigans the gods might pull. It means the end of the Bright. And none of us knows what will come after.
So perhaps my confusion on a few points of metaphysical cosmology is understandable.
I figured things out pretty quickly after that, thank goodness. When I turned back to the alley—
—the blonde godling was licking something on the ground.
I thought at first it was Shiny. As I came closer, though, I realized the positioning was wrong. Shiny was on that side of the alley. The only things on the side where she crouched were—
My gorge rose. The dead Order-Keepers.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were the same as her hair: gold mottled with irregular spots of darker color. I stared at her and suffered a pang of epiphany. When people looked at my eyes, was this what they saw? Ugliness that should have been beauty?
The Inheritance Trilogy Page 38
