by L. Penelope
She’d been advised by the Goddess to never touch the death stone—it gave Singers, and perhaps even former Singers like her, horrible visions. However, Zeli had been given no such warnings about the king stone. The Goddess had told her that each caldera had a purpose, certain requirements for its use. Some, like the death stone, could affect a whole swath of people, and others would do nothing at all unless touched by the person it was meant for.
If this knob was a caldera, then it was likely part of the challenge. She held her breath and grabbed hold of it.
Nothing happened at first. Her vision didn’t black out, she didn’t see anything strange, but a low hum began in her ears.
“What kind of hunter are you?” a voice whispered inside her head.
“I … ah.” She cleared her throat. “I seek knowledge.”
“And who will this knowledge benefit?” It was more like the suggestion of words than an actual sound in her mind, but it made her shiver.
“My people, the Lagrimari. And others, too. If we can stop what is coming—the wraiths and the True Father—then everyone will benefit.” Silence reigned around her. She kept hold of the knob, waiting for the next question.
Finally, a cold air blew around her, making the torches on the wall flicker.
“You may pass.” This time, the sensation was just an echo, fading away inside her head. Under her palm, the knob turned and the gate swung open on silent hinges.
She stepped through, and into a room of blinding white. After the tunnel, her eyes took a moment to adjust. There was light everywhere, but no lanterns in view—the walls just glowed. She couldn’t even identify the material they were made from, something smooth and featureless so that she couldn’t determine where the floor ended and the walls began. A raised platform of the same material in the center of the room was barely visible. The space might be rectangular, or possibly oval-shaped. She’d never seen anything like it.
One moment, she was looking around, contemplating what to do now, and in the next she spotted a staircase that she could swear hadn’t been there seconds earlier. It was directly across from her and painfully obvious. She shook herself. “Focus, Zeli,” she whispered.
The stairwell was a good deal darker than the strange, white room, and made of marble. She went up several flights with no outlet until it finally ended and she emerged in an enormously wide room.
She turned around in a circle, her jaw falling open. This was the inside of the pyramid. Sloping walls went up and up, the glass layers letting in the only light. The battering ram thumped away on the other side of the metal doors, but in here the sound was muffled, just a dull thud. Those wielding it were gaining no headway, but Zeli was actually inside.
Then her surroundings really hit her. She stood at the edge of a very large, very empty room. There were no books, no shelves, no other floors, no furniture, not even so much as a chair. The only thing breaking up the space was the rectangular, ruby-colored column in the very center. The red pinnacle visible at the top from outside was really the tip of an obelisk, like a tent pole holding up the building. Aside from that, this was just a giant, bare pyramid that was supposed to hold the archive of the knowledge of a god.
She grabbed her stomach as it hollowed out. Was this all a trick?
“Not what you expected?” a voice said from behind her.
She spun around to find Remi leaning against the wall, arms crossed, sadness weighing down his gaze.
“How did you get here so quickly?” She was certain he hadn’t followed her, she would have heard his footsteps echoing on the stone.
He pushed off the wall and stepped toward her. “You are the only one to make it inside this year. Sometimes there are two or three. Sometimes no one does.”
“But the last time the Archives was open was before you were born. Is it common knowledge how many people get in?” Her confusion mingled with her disappointment and the vacuum inside her belly grew.
The boy just stared at her, assessing, until she began to feel uncomfortable.
“Remi?” Her voice broke on his name.
“Actually, my name isn’t Remi.” His eyes, too old for such a young face, sharpened and a glow rose from his dark skin. Light in a blend of colors, like a liquid rainbow, swirled around him, obscuring the child from view. When it faded, the child was no more. In his place stood an adult—what the boy may have looked like in twenty years. Instead of the ill-fitting trousers and shirt, he now wore a long white caftan with blue embroidery. It grazed his ankles, ending just above his bare feet.
“My name is Gilmer. Welcome to my Archives.”
Zeli stumbled back several steps, shaking her head and trying to make sense of what she’d just seen. “Y-You’re Gilmer? The Gilmer? T-This is your Archives?”
He nodded sadly. “Yes, I’m the Gilmer and this isn’t my Archives.” He spread his arms open. “The Archives is me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
No matter how far the path
or how long you trod
there is rest at the end
and along the way
if you are vigilant.
—THE HARMONY OF BEING
Zeli sat before the god known as Gilmer on cushions that he had spirited into existence. He looked like a normal man, then again, at a glance, the Goddess Awoken looked like a normal woman. Only being around Her for any length of time had corrected that misapprehension.
“You have questions, I’m sure,” he said, his voice a sonorous tenor.
Zeli swallowed, her mouth having gone dry. “I don’t even know where to begin. What-What should I address you as?”
“Gilmer is fine,” he said with a chuckle. “No honorifics are necessary.” He took a deep breath. “Would you like some tea? You must be famished.”
Zeli blinked, surprised at what sounded like genuine concern in his tone. “I—thank you. Yes, please.”
A simple, slightly chipped ceramic tea set appeared between them, steam venting from the pot. She startled, then tentatively reached out for it, but Gilmer beat her to the punch and poured two cups of fragrant tea, which tickled her nose.
“Where to begin?” he said, tapping his lip with a long finger. “Well, first, I should apologize for the subterfuge. I do enjoy watching the Rumpus. I’m only awake for a week every ten years, you see, and I’ve grown quite addicted to soaking up experiences during these few days. But I am sorry to have tricked you. The disguise is simply useful.”
Zeli gripped her mug tighter. “Are you cursed?” she whispered.
“What? No.” He laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh no, my dear. It is a choice. Living for as long as I do is a bore. Centuries ago, I decided to space things out a bit. The world was changing so quickly, I wanted to experience more of it. Invention, industry, technology. It’s all so fascinating. I thought I might appreciate it more if I didn’t consume quite so much.” He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. “You see, I have somewhat of an addictive personality.”
Her brows rose, but she hadn’t heard of anything like that before, so she remained quiet.
“And I am not actually immortal, so extending my life with these long rests was the best way I could think of to prolong things, without going mad. To experience life as a child again … well, the world would be quite a different place if all could do so.” He took a slow sip from his teacup and gazed at her over the rim. Now his eyes made more sense in his grown-up face.
“You, I believe, are acquainted with the Queen Who Sleeps?” he asked.
Though the hot liquid had warmed her, cold swept over her skin at the question. “She is the Goddess Awoken, now. But yes.”
Gilmer nodded. “Ah, of course. Well, my sleep is somewhat like Hers. Though mine is, of course, voluntary. And I awake when I choose. It’s a different sort of spell. My followers created the Rumpus for the week in which I am awake to celebrate my return and to recommit themselves to me.” He sighed and stared off to the side. “They insist on continuing to worship
me. An absent god is better than none at all, I suppose.”
Zeli frowned. “Do you have the power to stop them? From worshipping you? If—if that’s what you want?”
He considered for a moment and shrugged. “I suppose I could forbid it. Attach heavy punishments for their prayers and supplications, but people are people. Some would still gather in secret, convinced this was just a test of faith. The hearts of men are stubborn in that way.”
She swirled her cup a moment, watching the movement of the liquid. “What if you did something really terrible?” Chancing a glance up at him, she found him stroking his chin.
“Well, I suppose that public opinion would sway in that case. But there would, no doubt, be those who thought that because I did it, it must be right. Belief is irrational—loving and hating are two sides of the same coin. So maybe you are right, maybe changing one into another would not be as difficult as I think. It could be I am just too vain to try it.” He chuckled and drained his cup.
Then he turned sharply toward the door. The battering ram had paused. “Thank the matriarchs,” he muttered. “Shall we let your friends in?”
“Can we?” she asked, brightening.
“Yes, of course. You may do what you like. You have access to the Archives and may share it with whomever you choose.” He smiled graciously and a bit of lingering fear from the shock of his appearance and transformation faded.
“Please then, let them in.”
Gilmer smiled and inclined his head. He did not move, but closed his eyes. “Followers, friends. The Archives have been entered.”
He spoke at a normal volume, but the words entered not only her ears but her mind and her consciousness. He truly sounded like a god, voice resonant and filling every inch of space inside her, until it vibrated within.
“This year only one contender managed to gain entry to the Archives. Best of luck next time, now please, go and enjoy the Rumpus.” Zeli blinked in awe at the display of power.
His voice—the audible one—quieted to a whisper. “Adia, will you please gather the tall, young Elsiran and his Lagrimari companion and escort them to the main doors?” Then he opened his eyes suddenly and smiled at her. She ducked her gaze, embarrassed at being caught staring.
In moments, the double doors rattled. They did not appear to be barred or latched. There weren’t even any door handles on this side, just smooth metal. Under their own power, or more likely Gilmer’s, the doors opened outward. Gasps sounded from those gathered on the other side.
Through the doorway, the setting sun bathed what she could see of the remaining crowd in oranges and reds. Right outside, white-clad acolytes kneeled with their heads bent. Gilmer sighed and rose, then paced over to the entry. He stood there, arms crossed, before the prostrate acolytes.
A minute later, a raven-haired female acolyte appeared before him with Varten and Lanar in tow. Gilmer bowed in thanks to her and the woman flushed scarlet. Then the god led Zeli’s companions inside and the two enormous doors closed again.
Varten stood in the entry looking up and around, jaw open, while Lanar merely glared at Gilmer. For his part, the god smiled at the Lagrimari man. “Good to see you again, old friend,” he said extending his hand for a shake.
Zeli flinched, frozen for a moment. “Old friend?” She looked from one man to the other, taking in Lanar’s pinched expression.
“Why yes,” Gilmer replied, “I am not the only one with a secret identity. Am I, Yllis?”
Lanar or Yllis or whoever he was blew out a breath and crossed his arms defensively.
Gilmer tilted his head. “Why the pseudonym? There are very few alive who would have recognized your name.”
Yllis’s gaze slid to Zeli and then Varten, who had come to stand next to her. “True, but these two have been reading my journal. And I wasn’t certain how they would react if they knew who I was.”
Zeli took a step back; Varten tensed beside her. “You wrote the journal?” He looked to Zeli, who shook her head, completely dumbfounded.
Gilmer clasped his hands behind him and rocked on his heels. “I think this conversation calls for more tea.”
* * *
Gilmer had produced more cushions and tea from wherever it was he got these things. Varten came to sit beside her, while Gilmer and Lanar—or rather, Yllis—stood in hushed conversation by the doors.
She studiously ignored Varten, still angry with him from earlier. Instead, she straightened the teacups and poured more for the newcomers, feeling his eyes on her.
Finally, she sat back, staring straight ahead. “What?” she said through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She turned, and was arrested by the misery evident on his face. “I should have been there to help you. That’s why we came, and I just got caught up in…” He trailed off and she waited for him to finish the sentence, but he just stared at his hands.
“In what?” she prompted.
He shrugged. “I’m not really reliable. I mean, I shouldn’t be in charge … of making decisions or anything. I just screw things up.”
She blinked rapidly. “But you were right. Remi and I managed to pry open that sewer cover and that’s how I got in here. I think it was the only way inside.”
Varten’s shoulders were still slumped and Zeli reached for him, intending to offer a comforting hand, then withdrew. She wasn’t sure she should touch him, wasn’t sure he wanted her to.
“You missed quite a lot,” she said, grabbing a cup instead. She didn’t really want any more tea, she just needed something to do with her hands.
“I see.”
“No, you didn’t. Remi turned into Gilmer.”
“What?” His jaw hung open comically.
“Remi is Gilmer and Gilmer is the Archives.” She motioned to the empty space surrounding them.
Gilmer and Yllis approached and sat on the remaining cushions. “Yllis refuses to tell me how he managed to come back from the dead,” Gilmer said, sounding annoyed. “I do it every ten years, but then again, I never go all the way to the World After. But I know that you must have. I saw what was left of that city after your battle with the True Father.”
Yllis shook his head. “My tale is for another time. Since we have limited access to the Archives,” he looked pointedly at said Archives, “I would not wish to waste it.”
Gilmer sniffed. These two did not behave like friends.
“How did you know we’d read your journal?” Zeli asked. She wasn’t sure he would answer, the pause was so long, but finally he sighed.
“I remained, out of sight, after I left the journal for Oola.” His face softened for the first time. “I was not ready to face Her, not yet. But I saw the two of you take it. I’d intended for Her to…” He looked off. “It does not matter. When it was clear She had other priorities, I decided to come here for myself. It seemed convenient to travel together.
“When we first met”—he turned to Gilmer—“you tried to teach me a way to win the war. Eero had trapped himself on the other side of the Mantle with the Singers, I was stuck in the west with the Silent, until I found a way through my spell for the Mantle. I knew Eero was draining Songs, stealing them for his own purposes, and I spent years searching for a way to stop him and reverse it. When you arrived, I thought it was the answer to my prayers.”
Gilmer looked down. “I did my best to teach you,” he said quietly.
“Your method for restoring Songs did not work once you left.” Yllis spat the words.
“Because you did not do it properly. I can only teach a willing student.” Gilmer’s dark eyes turned to Zeli. “Perhaps she will be more amenable.”
The scrutiny of both these ancient men made Zeli want to squirm. She lowered her gaze, but turned toward Yllis. “Why didn’t his method for restoring Songs work anymore?”
“Ask him.” Yllis threw up his hands. “He must have left something out. I tried for years more, without success.”
Gilmer’s jaw tightened. “I left nothing
out. I saw your plight, felt the pain of the separation of your people and the suffering caused by your … former friend.”
Zeli’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about the True Father? You were friends with him?”
Yllis nodded, features downturned. “Aye. We were friends. I loved his sister more than myself. To me he was a brother. Once.”
“‘A gift from the heart to my beloved,’” she whispered, remembering the inscription of the journal. “Signed only ‘O.’ That’s for Oola, the Goddess Awoken.”
Yllis’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I filled many notebooks while seeking new discoveries. She gave me most of them.” His longing was palpable.
Was this why the Goddess had been so bothered by the sudden appearance of the journal? It reminded Her of a love long lost.
“Why didn’t you show yourself to Her?”
Yllis straightened and sobered, shedding the melancholy like a cloak. “There will be time for that. For now, danger is at our doorstep. Eero has already attacked Elsira twice.”
“Twice?” Varten was appalled. “Already? What happened in the last attack?”
“Nothing you can change, boy,” Yllis said coldly. Zeli wanted to smack him.
Gilmer lay a hand on Varten’s arm. “Your family are all fine. But Eero is already planning his next strike.”
Varten was vibrating with tension, and Zeli saw the moment it seemed to slip away from him. She glared at Gilmer, who put up his hands. “I just calmed him down a little. I did not hurt him.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Yllis spat.
Zeli whirled on him. “You are here because I invited you inside. I’m the one who gained access to the Archives, not you. So if you can’t be civil, I will invite you to leave.”
