Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One

by Justan Henner

Again, his eyes wandered to the countryside, to rolling plain dotted with trees and tall grass. Nothing looked abnormal, but he had felt the decay.

  “What exactly is the rot?” he asked.

  “It is a curse that destroys any plant taken from the earth. Anything uprooted by mortal hands withers away, usually within days. Wood, flaxseed oil, even crops. If you are lucky enough to find berries on a bush, they can be eaten before they rot, but it is impossible to store them. Farming is almost impossible, because the curse can tell the difference between a seed planted by the hand and one which finds its berth naturally. Those planted by hand rot in the earth before they can even take root.”

  “Why would my father create something so atrocious?”

  “Because, he mourned the death of your sister Field. He blamed his people for it, even though the Vandu were innocent, because it was Silt who killed her. He destroyed an entire people because of something his own son had done.”

  Loy stared at her. “I have never heard either of those names. There is no Sister Field, and who is Silt?”

  There was no Sister Field in Father’s telling of history, but there was the capital of Newfield. Was that name some homage to a lost daughter, or did Kindrel use the name because of the city? A hard decision… The Lendish registry was very descriptive, listing every family member, their roles, and their descriptions. Loy had always assumed the information contained within was accurate, but it did not mention Kindrel’s godhood. Unless Kindrel was lying, and had convinced Fate to lie also, she was the god Sailor, which meant the registry was incomplete. And only Father Order wrote in the registry. Would Father omit such information? If he could omit such an important fact, what else would he exclude?

  “Gods,” Kindrel swore. She glanced at Quill, “Where do we even start? It is as though Nikom has hidden him from the world.”

  Yes, Loy thought, that is the way it seems, but does Father lie, or is it your intention to confuse me? Father Order did not lie to his children… But the only proof he had of Father’s honesty was Father’s word.

  “I am right here, defiler,” Loy drawled. He had liked it better when she had ignored Quill and spoke directly to him, the reverse was unpleasant and rude.

  Kindrel looked ashamed, but she mouthed the last word with a confused bent to her lips.

  “Do not speak to her this way,” Quill said. “Not when she grants you a gift. If we had listened to your father, we would be telling you nothing.”

  Loy lowered his eyes, more in thought than shame. She could very well be telling the truth. Order was Father’s goal, and Loy did not know what Father was willing to do or say to achieve it. Still, he would not apologize, not for her impropriety.

  “Please,” Loy said. “I am tired of this land and I am tired of feeling like an ignorant fool. Just tell me what has been kept from me so that I can return to Lendal.”

  “I…” Kindrel began. “I do not know where to begin. There is so much you do not know, but I will try.” She paused a moment, then moved to the rail and leaned against it. “You know of the Mother, and you seem to know of the First Generation, of Just, and Sybil, and the others, yes?”

  He nodded.

  “Good. Well, your father, his aspect was Farmer” – Loy opened his mouth to protest, but she bowled over him – “and he ruled over this land, called the Fields, and the city of Dekahn. Your father had a son, named Silt, who was apprenticed to Just.”

  “There is no Brother Silt and my father is Order, not Farmer.”

  “There is and he was, Loy.”

  “My father was never a farmer,” Loy repeated.

  “Of course he was. What do you think, fool? That your father named you Loy because he was overly fond of shovels? Please, Loy, just listen.”

  Father a farmer… It seemed difficult to believe, but her point about names was a good one. Harvest, Spade, Loy… even this city Kindrel mentioned, Dekahn, it was often called the Farmhold in the registry. It made sense. It might even explain the Lendish view of physical aspects. Perhaps it was Father alone who valued the metaphysical and ethereal over the physical, and perhaps he valued them because he scorned his previous aspect. And it was true, Order was not only the setter of roles, but often the root of custom.

  Kindrel might be lying, but what of the names? And where was the value in lying? What does she get from it? And if not lying, what does she gain by telling me the truth?

  “When I was young,” Kindrel continued, “we were apprenticed at twelve, to a god of our choosing. It was not like Lendal, where you are assigned whenever your father deems it proper. Your brother Silt had chosen Just, but he was unhappy with his role, and he felt that Just was keeping him weak, so that he would have to serve forever. Even though he himself was a member of the Second, your brother was young, only about your age, and he convinced many of the younger generations to believe as he did, that apprenticeship was a form of slavery which only served the eldest godkind. And then people began to disappear, a small number at first, and then Walter, the Smith, who you may know as Butcher, went mad and sacked the city of Vigil. Silt killed him, and things grew worse. A few months later, the Mother called a gathering. That was the night the Mother’s Temple fell.”

  “Father Order has mentioned that night,” Loy said. “But he has never said why or how it fell. He speaks of the Fall as if it was the end of the gods, always in a foreboding tone and with few details.”

  Kindrel nodded. “Yes. In a way it was an end for godkind. At least, it was an end to the trust we had for each other.”

  “What happened?” Loy asked.

  Kindrel tapped her fingers on the balustrade, pausing a moment, then said, “A fight broke out between Just and Silt. Then other godkind joined the fighting, and many turned on each other. It got bad enough that the fighting brought down the temple itself. Many gods died that night, and a few of the most powerful vanished outright. Alchemist has not been seen since and many fear that she is dead.”

  “And what happened to Silt?”

  Kindrel shrugged. “I do not know for certain. I did not go to the Mother’s Temple that night. I was instead attending to Mason, whose youngest son had been murdered the same day, but from the rumors, Silt was killed. But that did not stop the fighting. A war began in truth, the young hunting the old and killing them for their power.”

  “Killing for power?” Loy balked. “That is absurd.”

  “Yes, Loy, in a way it is, but it is true. I suspect this is the secret your father has tried to keep from you and all of Lendal, and the reason he asked me not to share any information with you. A god can gain power from another’s death, but it comes with consequences. There is a madness known as the Blood Call that affects only godkind, and it comes from the blood of the dead. When the Temple fell, and the war started, many gods succumbed to this madness, and that made everything worse. Tyrena has a daughter, whose mind was completely stolen by the sickness. She remembers who she is, but the madness creates a desire, a need for more killing. She was far from the only godkind that was tainted in such a way, and it was not long before the pantheon tore itself apart, gods hunting their nephews and nieces, their fathers, mothers, and even their own children.”

  “So… that is why there are no gods left in Trel?”

  Kindrel shook her head. “There are many gods left in Trel, but many are mad, and yes, that is why they hide their auras, either to hide from those who hunt or to hide from their prey.”

  “What about the others though? The Mother? Mystic? Surely my father must have done something?”

  “One day, the Mother simply left. She left a note with her priest and lover, Dydal, a message that she would not return until she was needed. Your father was in shock, because Field was only the first of his children to die, and far from the last. He grieved for many years, and when he finally came to his senses, he asked myself and Harvest to gather any seeking shelter from the violence and take them to Lendal. And so, I did.

  “Tyrena stayed in Trellahn, in the
city of Trel, to be with Just and her father, Dydal. The three of them tried to calm the fighting, but they were unable to save the pantheon, so they focused on the world of men instead. Our war had spilled over into the world of our subjects, and the people began to split away from the two states. Eventually, even Dydal and Just gave up, and when I returned to Trel, they asked me to take them away also.”

  “So Just isn’t even here?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He may have come back. Of those here, I only know of a few for certain. I know that Planner and her son are in Lock, alive and well, and she is never far from her brother, Smith. There is a man far to the south, that lives on the Horn, who calls himself Tinker, but he is far removed from the world and I never knew him very well. I think Galina is still here, and her husband Rift, plus your father’s agent is around somewhere as well, though, even if we found him, I would not trust that one. He is near as mad as Mystic.”

  “Galina is mad?”

  “Yes. Galina’s daughters were some of Silt’s first victims. She did not take it well, and neither did her husband. The two swore vengeance against any who had helped Silt and any who followed his teachings. She and Rift were very… erm… well, successful.”

  The three said nothing for a long time. Loy did not know what to think of this. It all seemed too elaborate for Kindrel to have made it up, but Father Order had no reason to lie to his children, but then again, it all made so much sense.

  This Blood Call had to be the reason violence was outlawed in Lendal. He had heard of a time when offenders of Order were put to death, but those days were gone, replaced by imprisonment or banishment. He needed to know if he could trust this. If what she said was true, he could…

  Nikom’s Blessing, I don’t even know. But thanks to Fate, he had a way to test Kindrel.

  “Kindrel, why are you here?”

  Kindrel sighed through her nose, the breathing loud and rushed. “I am here at Tyrena’s request. She has asked me to find Rift, and to bring him to her.”

  “I…” Loy tried. He was not sure what to say. She had confirmed Fate’s assertion that she was looking for someone, but a single truth did not validate all the others. “What will you do when you find him?”

  “I will do as she asked; I will take him to Kin’Ken.”

  “You are not returning to Lendal?”

  “No, I am not. If you still wish to return, I can take you as far as Tenfall Island, but from there you will need to find a ship back to the mainland.”

  “Why tell this to me now, what do you gain from telling me this?”

  “Gods, Loy, not everything is about advantage or gain, but if you must know, I’ll tell you. Nikom asked me to hold my tongue, but the more time I spent with you, the clearer it was that you knew nothing, and the angrier it made me. I haven’t liked Grandfather for a long time, and I’ve known the lies he tells Lendal. I can no longer sit idle, letting you go without knowing why you’re really here and what you might face out there. Frankly, you’re lucky nothing bad has happened already.”

  Loy’s mouth was dry, so he licked the roof of his mouth. “Why am I really here?”

  “I hope it’s to find the Mother, but I have my doubts.”

  “Why am I here, Niece?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her eyes downcast and her voice weak. “But… you look like Silt. Almost exactly… The face, the hair, your physique, you’re the spitting image of your brother. And he is your father’s greatest shame.”

  “What are you implying?” Loy spat. It was an accusation, not a question.

  Kindrel dropped her head and shook it, chin against her collar. “Nothing, Loy, I am sorry I said it.”

  Loy stared at her scalp, trying to pierce her mind, but she did not raise her head to face him. His gaze darted to Quill, who met it coolly. Quill stood relaxed, but his face was sad; pitying.

  Gods, I hate pity, Loy thought. But there was more in Quill’s face as well, he looked… sympathetic. Loy hated them both. Kindrel had embarrassed him for the last time.

  But no… if she was telling the truth, he could not blame her alone. Father had kept this knowledge from him as well, and that was the bigger crime. Father was Order, whereas Niece Kindrel was nothing but an uncouth Third – but if it turned out she spoke true, Loy might forgive her that, as well.

  “You will find him in the city of Trel,” Loy grated.

  Kindrel’s head popped up and she blinked. “What?”

  “Rift. You will find him in Trel.”

  “How… how could you know that?”

  “I met a god in Lane, an old woman.”

  “But you said the god was gone before you arrived.”

  “Ah, yes, well I lied, something you’re familiar with it seems,” Loy said.

  Quill’s stare was like daggers, but he did not reprimand Loy again. “Who was this woman?” Quill asked.

  “She called herself Scryer Fate.”

  Except for the glance the couple gave each other, all motion stopped, even the birthright as the ship wavered then lilted toward the gash on the starboard side – momentary but noticeable when Loy’s coat slid across the ship to the opposite side before catching on the rail.

  “What did she ask of you?” Quill asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

  “How did you know she asked something of me?”

  “Because,” Kindrel said, “she only appears to offer a deal.”

  Loy glared, straight ahead into nothing. “She asked me to-”

  “No,” Kindrel shouted.

  Quill gave her a quizzical glance.

  “Do not answer. We have paid our price, Quill, and we will not get involved.”

  “We must help him if we can,” Quill objected.

  “No. I will not deal with her again.”

  “Surely we can-”

  “I will make you swim back to Kin’Ken,” she warned.

  Quill fell silent, folding his arms under his chest.

  “Loy. Did you accept her deal?”

  “I do not see-”

  “Did you accept her deal?” Kindrel yelled.

  Loy nodded and the color drained from Kindrel’s face. She watched Loy for several moments, studying his face and features, her lips moving with unspoken thoughts. Finally, she spoke, blunt and uncaring.

  “Quill and I will be turning back to Trel once we reach Baylin. You must go on to Dekahn alone.”

  “No, wife.”

  Kindrel’s stare was a death sentence, but Quill met it unflinching.

  “I will not leave him to face this alone.”

  “I will not be involved.” Kindrel swung her arms up then down, in tune with her stamping foot – much like a child throwing a fit.

  “And I do not ask you to be,” Quill said, his face and voice calm and firm. “But I will stay at his side until this is through.”

  Kindrel shook her head, refusing. Her brown hair flicked side to side, the wind pushing it back into her face. She did not seem to notice. “Quill, do not do this.”

  “I must. When Fate came to us, we had Dydal to guide us. Without him, we would have failed. I will not leave this one without help. You know what my aspect is. You know that I must guide him.”

  “Please, Quill,” she begged one final time, her voice dropping from insistence into desperation.

  Quill set his face, determined as stone, and without him even speaking a word, Kindrel’s body sagged.

  “Fine,” she said. “Fine, but I will not be involved. I have made a promise to Tyrena and I will not break it.”

  “I would never ask you to.” The stone mask chipped, Quill’s eyes filled with understanding.

  Kindrel nodded grudgingly. “Then I must go…” Her head rose as her gaze fell on Loy. “But I must warn you. I have said this before, what you seek, is not what you will find. The gods here are not to be trusted. You were sent by Order, you seek the Mother, and now you are tangled with Fate. Three gods that now have power over you, Fate worst of all
. You don’t know how they will use you, but they will, and it’s not likely to end in your favor. Do you understand that, Loy? Quill and I have seen many things. He will take care of you. But even the Mother is not what you expect. If you pursue this path, you will get hurt.”

  “How do you know?” Loy asked.

  “Because I know my family.”

  Loy glared at her. The silence was bitter.

  “What task did she give you?” Quill finally asked.

  “Can it not wait until I have gone?” Kindrel demanded.

  Quill shrugged. “It will not snare you in his fating to know what she asked, nor will it hurt to offer the boy some advice before you go. Would you prefer to leave me without knowing? Uncertain of what I shall face?”

  For many moments, Kindrel was silent. Her face went from anger, to defiance, to outrage and hate… And then in an instant, all of it emptied. Her head slumped, her back wilted. “No…” she said. “No, you are right. That would make it worse, to be stuck in Trel, not knowing where you go or why you go there.” Kindrel turned to Loy, her face resigned, her eyes looking tired. “Go ahead. Tell him, Loy. What did Fate ask of you?”

  Loy swallowed. Surely, they were blowing this out of proportion. Fate had promised that he would become a god. How could she possibly have ill intent toward him?

  “She asked that I find a man…” Loy began

  “A man? What man?”

  “She did not say… rather, she did not know. She has asked me to… discover the identity of the man in Just’s shadow.”

  Kindrel snorted. “Oh, that cryptic wretch. Can she not just say it plain?”

  Quill smiled at his wife. “Never in the time I served her. But there is always more truth in her words than one might expect. Did she say anything more, Loy?”

  Loy wasn’t certain he wanted to say. They spoke of Fate as if she were some sort of demon, but the woman had promised him everything he had ever wanted. Indeed, she was the only person who had been honest with him of late… but considering the abruptness with which the woman had forced him out of her home, and the ominous nature of her words, perhaps there was something to be skeptical about. Besides, any information he gave to Kindrel, was information that might lead him to a stronger understanding of what Fate had asked. The closer he came to accomplishing this task, the closer he came to godhood. And wouldn’t that be nice? One day he might be able to rub it in his niece’s face, touting the fact that it was her wisdom which had brought about his glory.