by Rin Chupeco
Chapter Twenty-One
Lan and the Sixth Galla
THEY FOLLOWED US LIKE PERSONAL demons: Cathei, Graham, and now Salleemae, glittering in the mist.
We did our best to ignore them, but their presence loomed over us, greater than the shadows that stole across the sky despite the absence of clouds; their ghosts seemed to us like some signal of doom, like we were helpless to do anything but wait for the inevitable.
Odessa flogged Graham only occasionally now, but she delighted in torturing Gracea with his specter. The presence of all three was a testament to her new gifts, an intimation that she could protect us from creatures we had no inkling of.
But they weren’t the worst of it. As much horror as their ghostly company triggered in us, they were our constant reminder that we hadn’t been able to save them, that there were more terrifying things waiting for us in the near darkness. Just because they hadn’t attacked us again since we lost Salleemae didn’t mean that they weren’t out there, curled up in the shadows of these twilight lands, biding their time.
We had been traveling the plains for close to four nightspans, and the constant fear of an attack did nothing for anyone’s health. The sky had lightened considerably, but that realization came with more inexplicable noises around us, and more nightmares of creatures hiding, biding their time. We increased our watch, but in the wildlands, everything played havoc on our nerves. More than once we’d come stumbling out of our tents, wide-eyed and close to panic, to find it had been a false alarm, some trick of the shadows that caused our sleep-deprived guards to sound an unnecessary alert. After that first disastrous watch, I’d instructed both Catseyes to clear everyone’s minds before they took up their posts. It helped, if only a little, but we needed every advantage we could muster to survive.
Whenever everyone else had settled into sleep, I would sit with Sumiko and she would ask me to talk. About my friendship with the rangers in that last expedition, about the decisions I’d made leading up to that final, fateful encounter that I still couldn’t remember. I rarely mentioned Nuala’s or the others’ names aloud, and it took effort to whisper them now, out here in the open so close to where they’d died.
“And are you afraid now, Lady Lan?” Sumiko asked me gently. “Surely this lies very heavily on your mind today.”
“Not a lady. And aren’t you afraid?” Sumiko had always been unflappable. I couldn’t help but envy her strength. If I hadn’t been to previous sessions with her, I might have gotten angry at her composure, because how dare she throw another one of my failures back in my face?
She nodded. “Of course. If I had my way, I would have very much preferred to remain behind in Aranth. But I have a duty to both my goddesses, the same as you. I will not shirk from my responsibilities, and if I can bring any small comfort to this expedition, I shall do so gladly. But this session is about you, and how you think we will fare on this journey.”
I leaned forward, hands against my knees, and stared into the fire. “I think we’re all going to die,” I said, about as candid as I allowed myself to be, keeping my voice low because the last thing everyone around here needed was my personal, expert opinion on how we were all doomed. “But I am also fighting it every step of the way. I have a duty to keep Odessa alive, and the more of us I can keep that way, then the better the chances my prediction comes to naught. You see them?” I didn’t need to move my arms to point, because of course she could see the three ghosts, always hovering on the edges of our vision, like they were waiting for an acknowledgment none of us were prepared to give.
“It chills my blood to look at them, but in some small way I’m actually glad they’re there. It means if I die out here, if another one of the monsters lurking out here puts me out of my misery, then I can still protect Odessa in some way. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
“Do you still believe that you’re not worth saving, then? That you should have died out here with the rest of your rangers, Lady Lan?”
“Not a lady.”
“That is another topic I wanted to broach with you. You never rejected being called ‘lady’ until after your return to Aranth. Do you feel like you no longer deserve the title?”
I stared at the ground. “Yes,” I admitted quietly, and the tears fell, just like that. “There should be honor in serving with the Devoted. There’s honor in being called a lady. But I can’t lay claim to that right. Not after surviving when I had no right to, when they didn’t.
“And it’s not just them. I realize now that the clerks have been abused and mistreated in Aranth for a long time. I was so caught up in my own spat with Gracea and my own stubbornness that I couldn’t see it before.” The clerk who had tripped over Holsett’s trunk back in Aranth—I’d touched him then and felt the bruises from a previous beating.
I should have done more. Why hadn’t I known about Graham? At the Lunar Lakes, seeing how Merika had reacted to him on the ship—I’d known something was wrong, but I had shrugged it off. None of those Devoted deserved their titles—neither did I. And Asteria was just as guilty.
Sumiko leaned over and touched the back of my hand reassuringly, letting me sob my way through, until I’d quieted. “You cannot be expected to fix everything. A part of learning to forgive yourself is acknowledging that you still deserve to be called ‘Lady Tianlan.’ Let me rephrase: Do you believe you’re worth saving?”
A part of me still didn’t believe that, and I don’t think that part of me was ever going to change its mind. “I’m glad I’m still alive,” I said roughly. “I’m glad that I survived, because I wouldn’t have met Odessa if I hadn’t. I’ve served Asteria for most of my life, and my duty comes first. But Odessa . . . she gives me more reasons to keep going.”
“Is Odessa aware of the depth of your feelings for her?”
I looked up, but all I saw in Sumiko’s gaze was understanding. She had assured me countless times before that her sessions were strictly confidential. “She’s all too aware of them, believe me.”
“And you have no intention of acting on those feelings?”
“She’s the goddess, Sumiko. I mean . . . damn it, you know as well as I do that fraternizing isn’t allowed, and with her least of all. This isn’t Gareen and one of his flunkies gullible enough to think he’s monogamous.” Asteria had gone to the trouble of informing herself about our affair for a reason. She’d placed me as Odessa’s guard to ensure that I wouldn’t step out of bounds. She’d insisted that joining the expedition was voluntary, but she’d forced me all the same.
I could understand Asteria’s need to protect herself, sometimes even from her own Devoted, but her actions had forever soured our relationship, and I wasn’t sure if it would ever get back to the friendship we had, if it had ever been that.
“I know,” the Catseye said reassuringly. “But our talks aren’t to discuss what we should and shouldn’t do as members of Asteria’s Devoted. These sessions are to explore your own feelings. Any resentment and emotions that you might not have the opportunity to express in your day-to-day life, you are free to air now. There is no scrutiny here, nor will there be judgment.”
“I don’t know. To be honest, I’m not thinking of any future beyond surviving our present.” I closed my eyes. “But you’re right. Sometimes I don’t think I deserve to be alive. And I know what you’re gonna say—that it’s natural to think that, right?”
“Quite so. As well as believing that you don’t deserve any happiness that comes your way.”
“Are you seriously telling me to forsake my duties and go after Asteria’s daughter?”
“As you’re a member of the goddess’s Devoted, it would be frowned upon. But as your counselor, whose main priority is to help you heal, to put you in the best physical and mental condition possible; and because you and Her Holiness are the keys to the rest of us surviving this trip . . . I would say that the goddess’s daughter knows her own mind, as do you.”
A faint rustling sound made me open my eyes again.
<
br /> Odessa had left her tent. Now she stood several feet away, pink-cheeked in the twilight, her cloak wrapped around her. “Sorry.”
Sumiko rose to her feet, graceful as always. “Let us end our session for tonight,” she said easily. “I am pleased by our progress, Lan. Perhaps we can schedule another soon. Your Holiness.” She bowed low to Odessa and moved off in the direction of her own tent.
Odessa still made no move to leave. How much of my conversation with Sumiko had she overheard?
“Not much,” she muttered, when I asked. “Just the part where—where you said you don’t think you deserve any happiness?” There was a question in her eyes, and I knew what she really meant.
“My responsibility is to get us all out of this alive. I can’t let anything else distract me.”
“And afterward?”
I took a deep breath, giving in to the idea of a future. “And afterward—there’s a lot we can discuss.”
She glided closer. “Can’t we talk about them tonight? When the whole world and their dead are sleeping?”
This was a new kind of Odessa. While I had loved the soft, shy girl I had first met at Wallof’s bookstore, I couldn’t deny that this new, more confident goddess also held some attraction. I took a step back on impulse, because to hell with Sumiko’s suggestion about giving in. That didn’t stop her from drifting nearer.
Her fingers brushed against my collar, tugging lightly at it. “But not tonight?” she whispered. “Not now, even if only for a little while? I’m sorry, but—I just want something good to hold on to while we’re out here. Something good to remember.”
“Odessa. I can’t.”
This time it was her turn to step back. “You don’t want me, even after all you said to Sumiko?” she whispered.
So she’d been listening longer than she’d claimed, but I was in no shape to be mad. “You have no idea how much I want you.” Her eyes widened. “But I can’t let anything distract me from getting us to Brighthenge, Odessa. Not even you.”
“But I just want—just for a moment—”
I saw it the instant she did. Something passed through her—some dark wind, or perhaps the faintest flutter of a silhouette. It touched her briefly at the spot where the infection bloomed closest to her heart, and then it was gone.
I saw a brief vision—a lone light, shining out of the black, hovering around a gray giant hidden within the shadows. Almost at the same time I felt pain within my chest, almost at the exact same spot. I staggered back but refused to relinquish her hand. “What . . . ?”
“You saw it?” Odessa’s eyes were wide, her hand pressed against the rise of her breasts.
“I saw something.” The pain was disappearing almost as quickly as it had struck, but damn if it hadn’t hurt all the same. “Another galla . . . ?”
“How did you see it?”
I stared at our joined hands. Hadn’t I seen Asteria’s vision like this, too? “An unexpected side effect of a Catseye’s gift, apparently. Just like with the scylla.”
“She fooled us, Lan.” It was barely a whisper. “As soon as she saw that galla out at the Aranth port, she knew that I was supposed to accompany you here.”
“That’s impossible. Asteria would never put you in danger like this.”
“I was never going to be in danger. The galla aren’t my enemies, they’re my servants. She knew that. As I said before, there’s a ritual every goddess is meant to go through, and this is it. Only the true goddess, the one chosen to rule, goes through these rites. It used to be done at Brighthenge. But with the shrine gone, the galla sought me out instead.”
My mind reeled. “And Asteria knew this?”
“I don’t think she realized the rituals would still continue until that first galla arrived. That’s how she knew I would be protected.
“But she also knew I would disobey her. When I snuck aboard the Brevity, I was so shocked to realize that I’d gotten away. I thought Mother wasn’t as good at keeping an eye out for me now that I was older. I thought I’d gotten smarter.” She laughed bitterly. “I was wrong.”
It might not appear that way now, her mother had told me, but there is no one else I would trust on this journey than you. She had known Odessa would disobey her. She had known about our previous trysts. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d been two steps ahead of us this whole time.
“Your mother fooled everyone,” I said, not completely in anger. She hadn’t stopped Odessa from sneaking aboard the Brevity; she had let her go. She’d allowed our clandestine meetings to continue so she could appoint me Odessa’s guard and tie me closer to her. Asteria was a manipulative bitch, but in her position it was a commendable trait, even an admirable one. “Then why did she forbid you to leave the Spire in the first place?” I remembered Asteria by the window, staring at the shadows that dared come to her territory, saw the unnatural slope of her shoulders as she relaxed in relief, a smile on her face. I should have suspected it then.
She frowned. “I don’t know. Perhaps she really was being overprotective at first. Perhaps it was when the galla arrived that she knew I would be safe.”
“How many of these galla have come for you?”
She paused. “Five.”
Five. Two more nightmares to wait for. “And what do you give them in return?”
“I’m not sure. It feels like I lose a little piece of myself each time. I know that Cathei and Graham and Salleemae are dead, but I don’t feel grief like I’m supposed to. I don’t feel . . . other emotions like I should. I can’t explain it.”
That was worrying. “And now? That . . . shadow I felt? What does that mean?”
“There’s a sixth galla nearby.”
My grip tightened. “Surely you can’t do this again.”
“I have to, Lan.” Odessa’s voice was tinged with desperation. “Once you start the ritual, you have to go through with it till the very end. Refusing might bring about another Breaking. I think that’s what happened with Mother. She failed her ritual. That must be the reason why the world broke.”
“The last thing I want is to see you suffering.” Belay that; I was angry at Asteria. For letting her daughter go off to face these demons all on her own, paying for the crimes her mother had committed. She deserved to face the consequences, not Odessa. “What happens after you accept all seven gifts?”
“The books were never clear on that, but I believe it gives me the authority to rule Aeon in Mother’s place, to wrest it from her if I have to. I’ll stop being beholden to her, Lan. I can forge my own path from now on.” A look of wonder crossed her face, her eyes coming alive with a strange light. “I could rule, Lan. I won’t have to hide anymore. I could do what I see fit, protect the lands as I should.” Her fists unfurled, clenched, unfurled again. “Think of the power I could wield. So many things in these wildlands already bow down to me. Imagine my full potential. I could tame these creatures, bind them to my will instead. I could be ruler to more than just the city of Aranth. I could stake my claim here, turn these empty wastelands into fields of green and gold. We could rule happily like this, you and I.”
“Odessa. Not everyone wants to live here. There are far too many—”
“I’ll make them change their minds.” There was a harshness to her now that I’d never seen before, the words grating against the soundless air. Her eyes blazed as hard as agates. She could be like Asteria sometimes, I realized. Asteria, who could be terrible and cold. “And they will love me for it.”
I pressed two fingers against her wrist, feeling the jittering rhythm of her pulse underneath mine, and felt her relax. “And where is the sixth galla now?”
She made a gesture out toward the plains. “It’s not so far away that I can’t walk.”
“Then I’ll go with you.” I silenced the beginnings of her protest with another look. “There’s a reason I’m here, and that’s to protect you. Take me to wherever the galla waits for you. Let me see it with my own eyes.”
Noelle was on
watch, and she quirked an eyebrow at us when we approached. “We won’t be gone long,” I told her, hoping that truly was the case. “Keep an eye out. If we don’t return in—” I paused, looking at Odessa.
“An hour,” she supplied.
“—an hour, send out a search for us.”
Noelle rose to her feet. “Sounds like I should be accompanying you both.”
“No,” the goddess said.
“This is dangerous, Your Holiness. Surely you and Lan could stand to have more—”
“I said no, Noelle,” Odessa said coldly. “Are you disobeying a direct order? You’ve always been keen to ignore them when it suits you. I did not condone Gracea’s use of force on Janella, but perhaps we need one more example to discourage disobedience wherever it festers.”
I was shocked. Noelle froze in a half-standing, half-sitting position, her mouth hanging open. “I mean no disrespect, Your Holiness. I only offered backup should it be necessary.”
“You will not be necessary, Noelle. Keep watch, and leave us be. I know many ways to remind you that I am in charge, all of them painful.”
“Odessa,” I whispered, as we headed out into the plains, the Spire’s steward staring after us. “What has gotten into you?”
“People need to know their place, Lan. I’m their goddess. It’s about time Noelle stopped treating me like a child.”
I said nothing, though my heart was heavy. I was wrong. This was not the Odessa I wanted. How could the girl I loved have changed so much since leaving Aranth?
We walked in silence for several minutes until Odessa stopped, her eyes trained on a point in the distance, though I saw nothing. “It’s coming. The galla of rulership.”
I took her hand again and concentrated. I felt a trickle of energy flow between us, and my vision seemed to shift until I saw something approaching out of the twilight. Its shape was unfocused, like it was trying desperately hard to be solid, though nothing about it was real. “Is that it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Odessa said nothing, only waited.
