Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One

by Justan Henner

  But Sybil had always been honest in her intentions, and in all her dealings with Just, so she answered honestly and without hesitation. “I’m here because Mother summoned us.”

  But the damage had already been done. She had never given Just reason to question her loyalty and never had Just directed that tone at her. The mixture of anguish and shame on his face was mortifying.

  “And are you on her side?” Just asked.

  “Side?” Sybil blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” he sighed. “You should not have come tonight.” The worry in Just’s bearing had been replaced momentarily by sorrow. His hands rested on the tabletop, the fingers fidgeting uneasily. She placed her hand upon his own and squeezed. She would not blame him for the necessities of his role.

  “What is going on?” she asked. “What would make you doubt me?”

  Looking at her hand wrapped around his own, Just regained his composure. He took his hand from hers and gestured to the room. Sybil let her gaze follow. More of the family had arrived. Nephews and nieces of every generation now clustered around tables and in the hallways beyond the pillars. Quiet chatter filled the chamber. But something wasn’t right.

  “Look how many of them sit with their backs against the wall,” Just said. “Take note of where they sit. Those close to the entrance. Those who avoid windows. Those who avoid others. The trust is gone. All because of Walter’s death. All because of Silt.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you remember when Galina’s firstborn died?”

  “Yes, of course I remember his death.”

  The boy had always seemed so bright, but Sybil had overestimated his knowledge and his patience, and it had killed him. She was responsible.

  “But do you remember when?” Just asked.

  “Six hundred and thirty-two years ago,” she said. She could name it to the day, but this was her burden to carry, not her brother’s.

  “Yes. It has been over six hundred years since another of our kind has died. Since then, our system of apprenticeship has protected the young from themselves, but it has also made them weak and ignorant. Many of them are learning only now that a god can die. Even for the rest of us, this is a shock. Short of Mother, I am the oldest in the family. I have seen many of our kind die due to their own foolishness, but rarely has one god killed another.” Just paused. He put his arm around her shoulder to pull her close. “And now Galina has gone missing. And she is not the first.”

  Sybil gasped. “Who else?”

  Just did not answer right away. Instead, he watched the room and the family members huddled together in conversation. The Mother’s Hall was nearing capacity, and his eyes wandered from group to group. With each glance, he clicked his finger against the table, and at each tap, she sensed a light dusting of power. The dust fluttered from person to person, tying invisible strings between them. They were not physical ropes, but a residue of the birthright. Sybil could sense the strings as they were placed, but she could not see or sense them afterward. For any but a member of the First Generation, even the placement would be invisible.

  Just sighed before answering in a whisper. “You do not have much contact with the rest of the family, but I am surprised you have not heard. Three of Walter’s daughters have not been seen for more than a month. Of Nikom’s youngest children, only two remain from his latest brood of six. Each suspects the other of foul play. All of my apprentices have gone missing, including Galina’s children and Silt.” His top lip curled as his gaze panned the room. “And I have reason to believe they are dead.”

  A chill ran through her. “Who would do this?”

  “I suspect we will find that out tonight.”

  He placed a hand on her wrist. Looking down, she found that she had been wringing the tablecloth in her lap.

  “You must stop that,” Just said. “You are making everyone nervous. None of us, myself included, know what you are capable of anymore. Like Mother, you no longer breathe. You do not eat. Your apprentice says you do not sleep. Before Galina vanished, even she spoke of your power in awe.”

  My power? Sybil wondered. She was a godling compared to Just. Certainly, she had learned a few tricks, but they were nothing more than that.

  “For a moment,” Just continued, “the room was quiet, and all eyes upon you. They do not know you as well as I do. They do not know your habits, so they think you are crafting a spell beneath the table. With the trust gone, anything is possible. Even a member of the First Generation could turn upon her twin.”

  “I would never harm Galina!” Sybil gasped. The room fell into a shocked silence. Again, all attention in the room was fixed on her.

  “Any who believes so would be a fool.” The voice was loud and firm. Galina stood in the doorway, entire patches of her blond hair missing as if ripped from her scalp, making her look ragged and aged beyond her years. Her clothes, once regal and elegant, were torn and frayed. The hem of her dress dragged across the floor in strips. The color beneath her eyes was black, the flesh around them strained.

  “Unlike my children,” Galina continued. “I vanished of my own accord.” She spoke the words to the entire room; a challenge to everyone present.

  Sybil rose to greet her sister. Upon reaching their table, Galina stopped. She looked directly into Sybil’s eyes, but there was no love in the gaze, only anguish.

  Galina turned to face the room. “Go back to your conversations, you rats! I will deal with the lot of you later.”

  Every glance shifted away, and at the next table, a young godling squeaked as though Galina had spoken directly to him and him alone.

  Sybil rushed to hug her sister.

  “I’m so sorry, sister,” Sybil said, wrapping her arms around her twin.

  Galina didn’t lift her arms to return the gesture.

  “Galina, your clothes…” Just started. “Where have you been?”

  Galina rolled an annoyed glare to Just. “Looking for my daughters.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me they’d gone missing?” Sybil demanded. “I could have helped you search. But it is no matter. We will find them.”

  With her chin on Galina’s shoulder, she did not see the look of sorrow that must have been on Galina’s face. Instead, Sybil felt only Just’s hand as it pulled her away.

  “Sybil…” Galina’s voice broke. Tears streamed down her face. “I have already found them.”

  “What?”

  “They’re dead, Sybil.”

  For a moment, Sybil’s body failed her. Her vision, her legs, her thoughts: all had been overwhelmed by her sister’s words. She found herself seated again, and as she looked up and stared into Galina’s eyes, Sybil knew that the despair in Galina’s features would be mimicked upon her own face.

  Galina had waited so long after her first son’s death before having more children. She’d had twins; two girls, just like them. Both had grown strong in their twenty-three years of life, and when they had grown old enough, both had decided to apprentice themselves to Just. And now, they were gone.

  Galina pulled Just to her side and forced him into a chair. She seated herself with Sybil on her left and Just on her right. She twisted toward Just and whispered, barely loud enough for Sybil to hear. “Your suspicions were right,” Galina said.

  Just grimaced. “I should not have stopped beating my apprentices,” he mumbled.

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  “I do not know. Have you heard from Mother?”

  Galina tsked. “Yes, she caught me as I entered. She mentioned something about consoling a pair of Nikom’s children.”

  “Nikom’s children?” Just asked. “What has happened?”

  “I am not the only one who has been hurt… Nikom’s daughter, Field, was found this morning, along with Tyrena’s youngest. Both their necks had been broken… and… and worse. I don’t imagine our other siblings will be joining us tonight.”

  Pale, firm, and emotionless, Just’s face was a mask
to match Mother’s.

  “How…” Sybil tried. “Who would do such a thing?” Neither sibling answered. For several moments, they sat in silence.

  “It seems my worst fears have come to pass.” Just’s eyes drifted to the doors leading to Mother’s offices. “She has gone along with her plans against my advice.”

  “And now my children are dead,” Galina said. “I’m of a mind to kill her once I’m done with Silt.”

  “What?” Sybil asked. “What plans? What are you two talking about?”

  Just glanced at her, then back to Galina. “You will not,” Just said. “She is still our mother-”

  “And before this morning, I was a mother too,” Galina hissed.

  Just shook his head. “She plays a dangerous game, but we must find other ways to reason with her. There must be some way to bring about her wishes without all of this.”

  “Her wishes are mad, look at what they did to Walter. And now Silt.”

  “What is going on?” Sybil asked.

  Her brother ignored her. “We have no guarantee of that,” he said.

  Galina balked. “She as much as told you what she has done.”

  Sybil thought to ask again, but realized she would not get an answer. Between Just and Galina, there were no concessions once the two were set in motion. Instead, she frowned and listened, trying to piece together some semblance of understanding from this bizarre conversation.

  “She said she wished to rebuild the pantheon-”

  “And then she pushed Walter to become what you destroyed.”

  “She would not dare.”

  “You said it yourself,” Galina said. “She is trying to recreate Death.”

  “She cannot mean to do it this way,” Just said. “Her aim is for stability.”

  “Her aim is to guide us toward what she desires. Look around you, fool. Walter is dead because of her, and Silt is mad. If she’s done this to them, what will she do to the rest of us? What aspects will we hold when she is through with us? If she can try to force Walter into the aspect of Death, what about us? Will we all be so despicable?”

  Just fell silent, his eyes dropping to study Galina’s hands. He chewed his lip, a look of concern in his eyes.

  An aspect of Death… Sybil pondered. It was true, Mother often did things with little explanation, but surely there was more to this than Sybil could garner. Their conversation seemed absurd. How could Mother recreate something that had never existed?

  “What are you talking about?” Sybil asked, taking the brief silence as an opportunity.

  Just stared at her. Galina pursed her lips.

  “You did not tell her?” Galina asked.

  “I…” Just paused.

  “You thought she would take Mother’s side,” Galina accused.

  “No, I-”

  “If you do not tell her, Just, then I will.”

  Just held up his arms to forestall Galina. “Please. I mean to tell her… I meant to all along, but I suspected you had already done it.”

  Galina sniffed. “Well forgive me, brother, but I have been searching for my children.”

  Just’s gaze dropped to the table. “I know… I know. I have been busy also. I am sorry, sister.”

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?” Sybil asked.

  Just met her gaze. “We will, Sybil.” His gaze panned the room. “For… for some of it, we will need privacy. But… but for now, know that… that Mother is trying to shape the aspects. She is trying to guide us into specific roles.”

  “What? But that is preposterous. Aspects do not work that way. They are innate, they cannot be forced.”

  “I know, Sybil. I know, but that is what Mother intends. She intends to make one of us into a god of Death.”

  A silence stretched as Sybil pondered the ramifications. What Just posited was unthinkable. Aspects were a natural force, a physical manifestation of a god’s character. How could Mother think to guide someone toward a specific role? It would require shaping their very nature.

  Finally, Just sighed and stood. “I suspect Mother will be a while. I should say something.”

  “Good,” Galina said. “You should preempt her regardless.”

  “We are not yet sure this was her,” Just said. “Still…” Just eyed the dais. “Perhaps I should be the one to begin this meeting anyway. I feel there are… things I must apologize for.”

  Galina nodded. “The sooner this is done, the sooner Rift and I can continue our search for our daughters’ killers.”

  “And me,” Sybil added. “I am going with you.”

  Galina thanked her in the form of a smile, but it lacked the usual warmth. The expression knotted Sybil’s stomach.

  As Just moved toward the podium, the crowd quieted, and by the time he mounted the dais and turned to face the room, all was silent.

  Just cleared his throat. “We are facing an uncertain time,” he began. “As you all know, we have lost a family member in the last few months. A member of the First. A loving brother and father. I am sure all of you know what the Smith did and how he was killed. To his children and grandchildren here tonight, I must apologize.”

  Choking down some emotion, Just paused and rubbed an eye. “I must apologize,” he continued, “for my inactivity. I failed in the duties of my aspect and had I done what was necessary, your father might still be alive. Instead, I did nothing. And my apprentice Silt took matters into his own hands. I did not order Silt’s actions, but neither do I begrudge them.”

  The room shuffled uncomfortably, and many who stood hurried to find chairs, seemingly unable to stand after hearing such dire admissions.

  “Many of you have taken to calling the Smith, ‘Butcher.’” Just’s voice echoed through the vaulting, firm but somber. “Unfortunately, I believe this to be a title he has earned. I have seen the city of Vigil. Entire districts have been burned to the ground, corpses rot in the streets, and blood is clogged in the sewers. It is now a ruin. We often think of ourselves as above mortals… and in many ways, we are, but this was unacceptable. To the Smith’s children, I apologize, for your father should not be dead. I do not know what changed in him, but the brother I knew would not have done something like this.”

  He stopped, allowing for a moment of contemplation. “Unfortunately, Walter is not the reason we are here tonight. Not entirely. It has been more than six hundred years since the last death in the family. And now, in three months, there have been at least four.”

  The first sound to fill the chamber was the cry of a woman. It was the sad and desperate wail of a mother who fears she has lost everything. On its heels followed the outraged voices and the pleading questions. Sybil could feel the tears begin their descent; so many people desperate to be heard, all of them fearful for the fate of their missing loved ones. All of them family. The reality overwhelmed her. Tin and Iri would not be the only loved ones she had lost. Galina had once again lost her children. She might never recover. The family might never recover.

  “All of you know someone who has gone missing,” Just continued. “I am sure that many of you have noted Nikom’s absence this evening. This afternoon, his daughter Field was found dead, and Tyrena’s youngest son.” He swept his gaze to Galina and a silent confirmation passed between them. “Our sister Galina has lost both of her daughters.”

  Murmurs of shock and consolation drifted toward their table. The voices of the unaffected held empty sympathies.

  “Many more have gone missing, so I will be blunt. I fear the worst and so should you. I believe I know the person responsible for this – or rather, the people – and I think that if they were going to show mercy they would have already done so…” Just paused, his eyes staring transfixed at his finger tapping on the pulpit. “Unfortunately, there is more. I have watched each of you this evening, and I am sorry to say that some of the culprits sit among us.”

  This was not met with the outrage Sybil had expected. Instead, the room grew silent, a product of shock – and if Just was ri
ght – perhaps the fear of the guilty. Just’s aspect was not merciful, and neither was he.

  “I may have been hesitant to respond to the Butcher, but in this, I will not be dormant. When I find these cowards, I will deal with them personally.”

  “We are not cowards.” A lone figure spoke from the main aisle, his voice filled with the vigor of youth. “We have simply been waiting for the right moment to act.”

  From the voice, Sybil could tell it was a man, but he wore a heavy cloak and a draping hood that covered his features. As he spoke, he stepped confidently toward the dais. With emotions as high as they were, the words should have incited a mob, and yet, the entire room stayed in their seats. Not a single voice rose in anger.

  A smile crept onto Just’s lips.

  “Greetings apprentice,” Just said. “I was hoping you would join us tonight.”

  Sybil shot her gaze to the figure. She could see only the lower half of the man’s face and even that was in shadow, but after Just’s declaration, she knew it was Silt.

  “Come,” Just said. “Give us a speech.”

  Silt dropped his hood. With his flat nose and broad brow, he looked like one of those from Nikom’s provinces. Though in his forties, he had always looked youthful, a trait common in their kind, and tonight he looked even more hale and vibrant than usual. An aura of power and competence surrounded him as he marched to the dais. Shockingly, Just stepped aside to give Silt the pulpit, offering his apprentice an exaggerated bow.

  Sybil looked to her sister to see the fire burning in Galina’s eyes. What is happening? Sybil wondered. Where is Mother?

  “What is he doing?” Galina whispered. “He should be tearing out Silt’s throat.”

  Sybil had no response. She could not understand why everyone was just sitting there. Silt had as much as admitted to murdering their family members. They should be in a frenzy. The entire room should be fighting for the honor to kill this man. Instead, they sat silently. It didn’t make sense. It was as though the entire room had come to witness this confrontation. She remembered back to her conversation with Just. The trust is gone. Even here, her family had reason to fear one another; in a room filled with witnesses. She recalled the strings of power Just had tied between family members. Oh, she thought, I’ve been a fool. He was marking factions. This is not a meeting of family. This is the beginning of a war. Sybil gripped Galina’s hand.