The Broken Kingdoms it-2

by N. K. Jemisin

  "Untrue," he replied, which made me frown. "Before ten years ago, every mortal in the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms worshipped Itempas in the same way. Weekly offerings and services at a White Hall, monthly hours of service, lessons for children from three years to fifteen. Every holy day, all over the world, the same rituals were enacted and the same prayers chanted. Those who dissented…" He paused and turned to me, still radiating that cool amusement that I so hated about him. "Well. You tell me what happened to them, Lady. If there were so many dissenters in your land."

  I said nothing, in consternation, because it was a pointed dig at me: a Maroneh who had fled Nimaro first chance. Worse, he was right. My own father had loathed the White Halls and the rituals and the rigid adherence to tradition. Long ago, he'd told me, the Maroneh had had their own customs for worshipping Bright Itempas-special poetic forms and a holy book and priests who had been warrior-historians, not overseers. We'd even had our own language back then. All that changed when the Arameri came to power.

  "You see," said Hado. He could read my face like a book, and I hated him for it. "Itempas values order, not choice. That said"-he came over and took my hand, coaxing me up and letting me take his arm to be guided-"obviously it would be impractical to recruit many like you. We wouldn't have done it if you weren't so important to our cause."

  That didn't sound good. "What exactly does that mean?"

  "That instead of following the usual process of initiation, you will spend today with Lady Serymn and tomorrow with the Nypri. They'll decide how best to proceed from there." He patted my hand again, reminding me of his ungentle pats from the night before. Yes, this, too, was a warning. If I did not somehow please the Lights' leaders, what would happen? Without even knowing why they wanted me, I could not guess. I ground my teeth, angry-but in truth, I was more afraid than angry. These people were powerful and mad, and that was never a good combination.

  Hado walked me out of my room and began guiding me through the corridors, moving at an unhurried pace. I counted my steps for as long as I could, but there were too many twists and turns in the House of the Risen Sun; I kept losing count. The corridors here were all slightly curved, perhaps some function of building a house partially wrapped around a tree trunk. And because the House's builders had been unable to extend the structure far from the trunk-I was no architect, but even I could see the folly in that-the House had been built narrow and high, with multiple levels and stair-connected sections, giving the whole place an oddly disjointed feel. Hardly a monument to the Bright Lord's love of order.

  Then again, perhaps this, too, was a disguise, like the New Lights' carefully cultivated appearance of harmlessness. The Order of Itempas saw them as just another heretic cult. Would they feel the same if they knew this heretic cult had power enough to challenge the gods?

  Hado said nothing while we walked, and neither did I in my preoccupation. I gauged his silence, trying to decide how much I dared ask. Finally I braved it. "Do you know what those… holes… are?"

  "Holes?"

  "The magic that was used to bring me here." I shivered. "The Empty."

  "Ah, that. I don't know, not exactly, but the Nypri was ranked Scrivener Honor Class within the Order of Itempas. That's their highest designation." He shrugged, jostling my hand on his arm. "I'm told he was even a candidate to become First Scrivener to the Arameri, though, of course, that ended when he defected from the Order."

  I let out a laugh in spite of myself. "So he married an Arameri fullblood and started his own religion to remind himself of what he almost had?"

  Hado chuckled, too. "Not exactly, but I understand that mutual dissatisfaction is a factor in their collaboration. I imagine it isn't a far step from mutual goals to mutual respect, and from there to love."

  Interesting-or it would have been, if the happy couple hadn't kidnapped, tortured, and imprisoned me and my friends. "That's lovely," I said as blandly as I could, "but I know something about scriveners, and I've never seen a scrivener do anything like that. Overpower one godling, much less several? I didn't think that was even possible."

  "Gods aren't invincible, Lady Oree. And your friends-well, nearly all of the ones who live here in the city-are the younger, weaker godlings." He shrugged, oblivious to my surprise; he had just told me something I'd never realized. "The Nypri simply found a way to exploit these facts."

  I fell silent again, mulling over what he'd told me. Eventually we passed through a doorway into a smaller enclosed space, this one thickly carpeted. There were more food smells here, breakfast items-and a familiar hiras-scented perfume.

  "Thank you for coming," said Serymn, coming over to us. Hado let go of my hand, and Serymn took it in a sisterly fashion, stepping close to kiss me on the cheek. I managed not to pull back at that, though it was a near thing. Serymn noticed, of course.

  "Forgive me, Lady. I suppose street folk don't greet each other that way."

  "I wouldn't know," I said, unable to keep a scowl off my face. "I'm not 'street folk,' whatever those are."

  "And here I've offended you." She sighed. "My apologies. I have little experience with commoners. Thank you, Brightbrother Hado." Hado left, and Serymn guided me over to a large plush chair.

  "Prepare a plate," she ordered, and someone off to the side of the room began doing so. Sitting down across from me, Serymn examined me in silence for a moment. She was like Shiny in that; I could feel her gaze, like the brush of moth wings.

  "Did you rest well last night?"

  "Yes," I said. "I appreciate your hospitality, up to a point."

  "That point being your fate and the fates of your godling friends, yes. Understandable." Serymn paused as the servant came over, placing a plate in my hands. No formal service this time. I relaxed.

  "And your own fate," I said. "When Madding and the others get free, I doubt they'll be very forgiving of their treatment. They're immortal; you can't hold them forever." Though if she could somehow kill them, that rendered my argument moot…

  "True," she said. "And how convenient you mentioned this fact, as it's the cause of the mess we find ourselves in now."

  I blinked, realizing she was no longer talking about Madding and the others, but another set of captive gods. "You mean the Arameri's gods. The Nightlord." Their ridiculous target.

  "Not just the Nightlord, but also Sieh the Trickster." It took all my self-control not to start at this. "Kurue the Wise, and Zhakkarn of the Blood. It was inevitable they would find their way to freedom eventually. Perhaps the millennia they spent imprisoned didn't even seem like a long time to them. They are endlessly patient, our gods, but they never forget a wrong, and they never let that wrong go unpunished."

  "Do you blame them? If I had power and someone harmed me, I'd get back at them, too."

  "So would I. So have I, on more than one occasion." I heard her cross her legs. "But any person on whom I sought vengeance would be equally within her rights to try and defend herself. That's all we're doing here, Lady Oree. Defending ourselves."

  "Against one of the Three." I shook my head and decided to try honesty. "I'm sorry, but if you're trying to convert me by appealing to… street logic, or whatever you think motivates us lowly, common folk, then there's a flaw in your reasoning. Where I come from, if someone that powerful is angry with you, you don't fight back. You make amends as best you can, or you go into hiding and never come out, and meanwhile you pray that no one you care about gets hurt."

  "Arameri do not hide, Lady Oree. We do not make amends, not when we believe our actions to have been correct. Those are the ways of Bright Itempas, after all."

  And look where that got him, I almost said, but I held my tongue. I had no idea whether Shiny was all right, or where he was. If he had managed to escape, I had little hope he would bother to help us, but on the off chance that he might, I didn't intend to tell the New Lights about him.

  "I think I should warn you," I said, "that I don't consider myself much of an Itempan."

  Serymn was silen
t for a moment. "I'd wondered about that. You left home at the age of sixteen-the year your father died, wasn't it? Only a few weeks after the Gray Lady's ascension."

  I stiffened. "How in the gods' names did you know that?"

  "We investigated you when you first came to our attention. It wasn't difficult. There aren't many towns on the Nimaro reservation, after all, and your blindness makes you memorable. Your White Hall priest reported that you enjoyed arguing with him during lessons, as a child." She chuckled. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

  My stomach twisted, threatening to return my meal. They had gone to my village? Spoken with my priest? Would they threaten my mother now?

  "Please, Lady Oree. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you. We mean you no harm, nor anyone in your family." There was the clink of a teapot and the sound of liquid pouring.

  "You'll understand if I find that hard to believe." I found a table beside my chair and set my plate on it.

  "Nevertheless, it's true." She leaned forward and put something in my hands-a small cup of tea. I held it tightly to conceal my shaking fingers. "Your priest thinks you left Nimaro because you lost your faith. Is that true?"

  "That priest was my mother's priest, Lady, far more than he ever was mine, and neither of them knew me very damned well." My voice was just a hair too loud for polite conversation; anger had frayed my self-control. I took a deep breath and tried again to mimic her calm, cultured manner of speaking. "You can't lose faith you never had to begin with."

  "Ah. So you never believed in the Bright at all?"

  "Of course I believed. Even now I believe, in principle. But when I was sixteen, I saw the hypocrisy in all the things the priest had taught me. It's all very well to say the world values reason and compassion and justice, but if nothing in reality reflects those words, they're meaningless."

  "Since the Gods' War, the world has enjoyed the longest period of peace and prosperity in its history."

  "My people were once as wealthy and powerful as the Amn, Lady Serymn. Now we're refugees without even a homeland to call our own, forced to rely on Arameri charity."

  "There have been losses, true," Serymn conceded. "I believe those are outweighed by the gains."

  I was suddenly angry, furious, with her. I had heard Serymn's arguments from my mother, my priest, friends of the family-people I loved and respected. I had learned to endure my anger without protest, because my feelings were upsetting to them. But in my heart? Truly? I had never understood how they could be so… so…

  Blind.

  "How many nations and races have the Arameri wiped out of existence?" I demanded. "How many heretics have been executed, how many families slaughtered? How many poor people have been beaten to death by Order-Keepers for the crime of not knowing our place?" Hot droplets of tea sloshed onto my fingers. "The Bright is your peace. Your prosperity. Not anyone else's."

  "Ah." Serymn's soft voice cut through my anger. "Not just lost faith, but broken faith. The Bright has failed you, and you reject it in turn."

  I hated her patronizing, sanctimonious, knowing tone. "You don't know anything about it!"

  "I know how your father died."

  I froze.

  She continued, oblivious to my shock. "Ten years ago-on the very day, it seems, that the Gray Lady's power swept the world-your father was in the village market. Everyone felt something that day. You didn't need magical abilities to sense that something momentous had just occurred."

  She paused as if waiting for me to speak. I held myself rigid, so she went on.

  "But it was only your father, out of all the people in that market, who burst into tears and fell to the ground, singing for joy."

  I sat there, trembling. Listening to this woman, this Arameri, dispassionately recite the details of my father's murder.

  ***

  It wasn't the singing that did him in. No one but me could detect the magic in his voice. A scrivener might have sensed it, but my village was far too poor and provincial to merit a scrivener at its small White Hall. No, what killed my father was fear, plain and simple.

  Fear, and faith.

  ***

  "The people of your village were already anxious." Serymn spoke more softly now. I did not believe it was out of respect for my pain. I think she just realized greater volume was unnecessary. "After the morning's strange storms and tremors, it must have seemed as though the world was about to end. There were similar incidents that day, in towns and cities elsewhere in the world, but your father's case is perhaps the most tragic. There had been rumors about him before that day, I understand, but… that does not excuse what happened."

  She sighed, and some of my fury faded as I heard genuine regret in her tone. It might have been an act, but if so, it was enough to break my paralysis.

  I got up from my chair. I couldn't have sat any longer, not without screaming. I put the teacup down and moved away from Serymn, seeking somewhere in the room with fresher, less constricting air. A few feet away, I found a wall and felt my way to a window; the sunlight coming through it helped to ease my agitation. Serymn remained silent behind me, for which I was grateful.

  ***

  Who threw the first stone? It is something I have always wondered. The priest would not say, when I asked him over and over again. No one in town could say; they did not remember. Things had happened so quickly.

  My father was a strange man. The beauty and magic that I loved in him was an easily perceptible thing, though no one else ever seemed to see it. Yet they noticed something about him, whether they understood it or not. His power permeated the space around him, like warmth. Like Shiny's light and Madding's chimes. Perhaps we mortals actually have more than five senses. Perhaps along with taste and smell and the rest there is detecting the special. I see the specialness with my eyes, but others do it in some different way.

  So on that long-ago day, when power changed the world and everyone from senile elders to infants felt it, they all discovered that special sense, and then they noticed my father and understood at last what he was.

  But what I had always perceived as glory, they had seen as a threat.

  ***

  After a time, Serymn came to stand behind me.

  "You blame our faith for what happened to your father," she said.

  "No," I whispered. "I blame the people who killed him."

  "All right." She paused a moment, testing my mood. "But has it occurred to you that there may be a cause for the madness that swept your village? A higher power at work?"

  I laughed once, without humor. "You want me to blame the gods."

  "Not all of them."

  "The Gray Lady? You want to kill her, too?"

  "The Lady ascended to godhood in that hour, it's true. But remember what else happened then, Oree."

  Just Oree this time, no "Lady." Like we were old friends, the street artist and the Arameri fullblood. I smiled, hating her with all my soul.

  She said, "The Nightlord regained his freedom. This, too, affected the world."

  My heart hurt too much for politeness. "Lady, I don't care."

  She moved closer, beside me. "You should. Nahadoth's nature is more than just darkness. His power encompasses wildness, impulse, the abandonment of logic." She paused, perhaps waiting to see if her words had sunk in. "The madness of a mob."

  Silence fell. In it, a chill laced around my spine.

  I had not considered it before. Pointless to blame the gods when mortal hands had thrown the stones. But if those mortal hands had been influenced by some higher power…

  Whatever Serymn read on my face must have pleased her. I heard that in her voice.

  "These godlings," she said, "the ones you call your friends. Ask yourself how many mortals they've killed over the ages. Far more than the Arameri ever did, I'm quite certain; the Gods' War alone wiped out nearly every living thing in this realm." She stepped closer still. I could feel her body heat radiating against my side, almost a pressure. "They live forever. They have no need
of food or rest. They have no true shape." She shrugged. "How can such creatures understand the value of a single mortal life?"

  In my mind, I saw Madding, a shining blue-green thing like nothing of this earth. I saw him in his mortal shape, smiling as I touched him, soft-eyed, longing. I smelled his cool, airy scent, heard the sound of his chimes, felt the purr of his voice as he spoke my name.

  I saw him sitting at a table in his house, as he had often done during our relationship, laughing with his fellow godlings as they drew their blood into vials for later sale.

  It was a part of his life I'd never let myself consider deeply. Godsblood was not addictive. It caused no deaths or sickness; no one ever took too much and poisoned himself. And the favors Madding did for people in the neighborhood-for those of us who were too unimportant to merit aid from the Order or the nobles, Madding and his crew were often our only recourse.

  But the favors were never free. He wasn't cruel about it. He asked only what people could afford, and he gave fair warning. Anyone who incurred a debt to him knew there would be consequences if they failed to repay. He was a godling; it was his nature.

  What did he do to them, the ones who reneged?

  I saw Trickster Sieh's child eyes, as cold as a hunting cat's. I heard Lil's chittering, whirring teeth.

  And from the deepest recesses of my heart rose the doubt that I had not allowed myself to contemplate since the day Madding had broken my heart.

  Did he ever love me? Or was my love just another diversion for him?

  "I hate you," I whispered to Serymn.

  "For now," she replied, with terrible compassion. "You won't always."

  Then she took my hand and led me back to my room, and left me there to sit in silent misery.

  10

  "Indoctrination" (charcoal study)

  THAT AFTERNOON, Hado put me on a work crew to help clean the large dining hall. This turned out to be a group of nine men and women, a few older than me but most younger, or so I judged by their voices. They watched me with open curiosity as Hado explained about my blindness-though he did not, I noticed, tell them that I had been forced into the cult. "She's quite self-sufficient, as I'm sure you'll find, but of course there will be some tasks she can't complete," was all he said, and by that I knew what was coming. "Because of that, we've assigned several of our older initiates to shadow the work crew in case she needs assistance. I hope all of you don't mind."