“You know, it wasn’t really like that.”
With her eyes focused so intently on his own, her added disagreement gave him the urge to shiver. He didn’t, the pressure to stay still was too great, but that calm regard was unnerving.
“No,” she continued. “It was more like he felt it necessary. Seemed to think it was unfair that the mortals we ruled did not know us as well as they should if we were to hold that right. I have to say, the sentiment was noble, it was only the way he went about it that was such trouble.”
Drawing back her hand, she lifted it to the bridge of her nose and massaged the corners of her eyes. “Well, let’s see what we’ve learned,” she said. Sybil closed her eyes and held them shut for several moments. When she blinked them open, she smiled. “Dark in here, but I think that’s right. I can see the colors at least.” She glanced down at her arms. “Gods, am I really that bright a pink? I must’ve been madder than I thought. I look like a baby turnip.”
“The gods don’t all look like you?” Ivan asked.
“You mean the skin and eyes?” She shook her head. “No. Most of us, including myself once, look much like yourself. What I’ve got here is the result of some necessity, a lot of boredom, and a bit of my own vanity.” Her head tilted to one side. “You haven’t met any other gods?”
“You are the first,” he said.
The answer seemed to upset her in a way he couldn’t describe. Her face seemed the same, and so did her stature, but there was something in the muscles around her eyes that made him pause. Whatever thoughts passed behind that stare, she did not voice them. Instead, she turned her attention to her daughters.
“It is your turn, Iri.”
“Why does she get to go first?”
“Because she is in more pain.”
“But I want to see, too.”
“There is nothing to see yet, child. Isn’t that true, Ivan?”
Ivan smiled. For a god, she seemed so normal, and that brought him comfort. “It is, miss.”
The designation seemed to startle her. She was too far away for him to see her face clearly, but the head swiveled like a slamming door. “Ivan,” she said. “What was that you said about being sworn to me? What did you mean by it?”
The question took him by surprise. For a moment, he felt almost embarrassed; she had made him question the foundation of his faith, and yet her ignorance made him uncomfortable because a part of him still felt as if her knowledge should match up to his expectations.
“Well, miss,” he paused to wet his lips. “It is like every member of the priesthood. You are my patron… the god I have chosen to worship. It is supposed to mean that… that you would hear my prayers and offer me guidance in exchange for my service.”
“Worship?” Her tone seemed guilty. “Is this… how does this patronage work?”
“Each priest chooses a god and then swears him or herself to that god.”
“But how?”
“There is a ceremony,” Ivan said. “We give an oath of service and then our finger is cut, to spill the blood into a small chalice. When the chalice is full, it is given to the flames to seal the pact, and then we sign our names in our chosen god’s book.”
Her nervous swallow was so pronounced, Ivan could have sworn it was audible.
“Do not worry, miss, the chalice is not even the size of a thimble.”
“It is not the blood which worries me. It and all the rest are gibberish, except for the book. It is a name book, yes?”
“Yes.”
“That is dreadful,” Sybil said, as her fingers brushed across her daughter’s face. “Who told you to do this?”
“Well… Dydal, I suppose. The ceremony dates back to the priesthood’s founding.”
“And is this priesthood part of the Legion?”
“The Legion and priesthood are intertwined, yes.”
“Oh.” Her voice was small. Weak. Her neck seemed fixed.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing, I suppose,” she sighed. “He has tried to bond you to me, but the bonding requires consent on both sides. I would have had to know of your intent in order to accept your offer, or to hear your… prayers, as you call them.” Her hand dropped from her daughter’s eyes to rub the girl’s cheek.
He didn’t like the way she had said the word. “If not prayers… then what are they?”
“It is a thing Just devised to communicate with his soldiers. It was intended to let him speak with them from a distance, to give him the tactical advantage in the field, but he found it… muddied the lines of free will. Thus, it was a thing he allowed only in the direst of circumstances… or with those he trusted intimately.” Her free hand clenched at her dress. “That Dydal would trick mortals into such a thing… that seems very sinister.”
It’s not beyond him, Ivan thought.
“Do you know where this book is?” Sybil asked. “The one in my name?”
“Yes, it is right here at the university, why?”
“Well, I have half a mind to destroy the thing.” She leaned toward her daughter for a closer look. “Of course, that will have to wait…”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
There wasn’t much to say, because there was too much Null needed to ask. Where would she begin? Perhaps with the queen’s identity. Why had the Trellish general called her Atep Rin? Who was she really?
But how could Null ask such a thing? What did such an accusatory question imply? It implies that I am not grateful. It implies that I do not trust her. It implies that I am worthy of knowing, but am I? My entire life has been structured around a single goal, to serve and protect my king, and now he is gone. I am not worthy of anything. I am worthy of nothing.
Who had known of the ruse? If the queen and Erin were mages, then what does that say of anything I have ever been taught. Is anything true? Was Mycah right? My entire upbringing is built on a lie – No. Dekahn’s entire culture is built on a lie… It is just like Mycah said, but he did not go far enough. It is not historical accounts alone that lie, but the people who write and promote them. And Mycah… how much did he know? Was he lying to me as well?
Have I ever had a friend? She glanced at the spellbook on the table. Was this why he’d given it to her? Because he knew all the lies they had told him… because he’d been trying to educate her on everything she didn’t know? But then, did that make everything in the spellbook true? By Lock, she hoped not.
The clicking fingers stopped, followed by a rather violent cough. Null’s gaze rolled to the queen at her drafting table, then back to her own hands in her lap. The clicking resumed, the queen’s fingers tapping back and forth from pointer to pinky to pointer, in a wave of distress. Whatever the queen’s thoughts, she had not shared them, and Rin Tepa’s young, foreign face was near impossible to read. Without the fake flesh and thick layer of makeup that had once covered Tepa’s features, one might think the queen would be easier to be empathetic toward, but now the woman was too emotive. Not only the face, but the emotions as well, seemed out of place on Tepa’s form. When she wasn’t speaking, she was a stranger. And when she was, who knew what was true?
Tepa snarled then swept her collection of bundled scrolls, a bottle of ink, and various stylus and pens to the floor.
“Gods,” she swore. “That man is damned insufferable.” The ink bottle shattered, sending ink and glass to skitter across the tiled floor of the queen’s study. “He’s always been this way, Null, the rigid son of a whore. Every excuse is more than motive with him, it’s a damned moral obligation. And does my son’s death matter to him?” Her hand darted toward the lone window. “Do those charred cinders matter to him? I godsdamned doubt it. How can I rebuild if it’s under his tutelage? The bastard has kept his nose out of things for the past four hundred years, so why the imposition now?”
Null said nothing.
Tepa stalked to the window, and throwing open the shutters, she leaned on the sill. “It is bad enough that he claims moral authority – and I suppos
e the Firsts have always been like that; I won’t say that Silt had everything wrong – but must he be family as well? He is no longer an uncle of mine, I can tell you that.” Tepa swiveled on a heel, her familiar eyes piercing into Null’s forehead.
“Gods,” Tepa continued, her smooth face crumpling to a scowl. “I’m in such a fury, that I can’t even look at you.”
Null’s countenance broke. In quiet reflection, she’d held herself together, but for Tepa to accuse her of a misdeed? She knew her face must look distraught, and she felt impertinent to have any negative thoughts of her queen, even with all the lies. Rising from the bench, Null nodded.
“Then I will retire to the bedroom. I am sorry to have offended, Queen.”
Tepa’s face paled to the color of a snowstorm. “Oh gods, Null. I did not mean it in such a way. Sit back down, girl. Please. That did not come out right.”
“No. I understand. I am nothing. I was nothing before, but now I am a nothing without its king. I have had only one purpose, and that purpose is gone.” Null brushed past the queen and into the queen’s bedroom.
The queen stopped her with a hand on the shoulder. Her eyes focused on Null’s feet. “I do not know what fool put such thoughts in your head – gods, who am I kidding; I should have strung Tyvan from his loins at birth and his magic-hating mother before him. That is not what I meant, Null. I… I cannot look at you, because it is I that has failed you.”
Null stopped and turned. “What?”
“I… I have always had trouble facing you, Null… I know that he did his best. He did the best he could to give you a happy life, but I was always more concerned with protecting him… How could I look in your eyes after allowing Tyvan to use you as the straw man for his Atheists? I knew it was wrong… Erin told me so many times that it must stop… but I was so used to it. So used to the abuse, that I stopped trying to prevent it.” Tears welled in Tepa’s eyes. “I did the best I could… gods I did. The tunnels underneath the city. The rations, the blankets, and all the rest… I knew it wasn’t enough, but did I care? No. Because he was most important to me. I had to protect my son, and now that he’s gone, it all seems in vain. There is so much more that I could have done.”
Null was speechless. Half of it she didn’t understand. Tunnels beneath the city? Tyvan as the villain, instead of the hero? Well, that one makes sense, but I never thought I’d hear it from the queen. And the other half… “The king protected me?” The queen had mentioned as much the night before, but as of yet, they hadn’t spoken of it. Null asked the question, not from ignorance of the fact, but in hopes of finally broaching the subject.
The queen broke into an awkward mix of sobs and laughter. Tears ran down her cheeks as laughter, dredged up with the weight of an emotional vise, spurted out in a mangled mass of hopelessness. “Gods, Null, and that is the worst. He loved you like a daughter, and I would not let him show it.” With the shoulder of her dress, Queen Tepa patted the tears from her eyes. “I’ve wronged you both, and now I can never make it right. I am an old fool… an old fool who thought she had an eternity.”
Like a daughter? But he… but… Null not only failed to know what to think, but also how. She knew not what to say, and could not make her thoughts focus on a single idea. She was simply… happy, and that uncommon feeling overwhelmed all else. Her mouth ran before her thoughts had the chance to regroup. “But…” she said, motioning to Tepa’s unfamiliar face. “But you are not old, Queen.”
Tepa chuckled another gargled laugh. “Oh please, Null, just stop. For all I have kept from you, every question is simply another knife. There is so much I should have told you.” Wiping her nose, Tepa set her face into a look of determination, her eyes bold and her chin held proud. “But I will, Null. Eventually, I will tell you everything. If you’d like, I can begin right now, and I promise to keep nothing from you.”
A knock at the door halted them. The two glanced at one another before a second knock came and the dark-skinned legionnaire entered. Just as he had the day before, the man wore the suit of armor which covered him up to his neck, made from a solid metal, which until yesterday, Null had only ever seen in books. The man had traded his stolen guardsmen cloak for one of Legion colors. He looked embarrassed.
“Yes?” Rin Tepa asked.
“I apologize, Queen, but the Grand has asked that you attend her in the council chambers.”
“All right,” Rin nodded. “Looks like we’ll have to wait a while longer for our talk, Null. Come along.” With a hand on Null’s wrist, the queen beckoned her to follow.
“Are you well, Queen? Your eyes are red,” the soldier asked.
“It is an emotional time. My son is dead.”
The legionnaire shifted uncomfortably, his hand lightly brushing his other arm before it returned to the sword hilt at his belt. “Forgive me, I… forgive me.”
The queen stopped midstride and studied him up and down. “You are forgiven. Come along, Null.”
The man lifted a hand in protest. His unease seemed to have vanished. “Actually, the Grand has asked that you come alone.”
Rin Tepa stepped toe to toe with the man and stared into his eyes. “May I examine your plate?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your plate. May I examine it?”
The legionnaire offered her an uncertain nod.
Pulling aside his tabard, Rin Tepa leaned in to examine the silver colored cuirass. “What is your name?” she demanded, her eyes at his chest.
“It is Bell, ma’am.” The soldier gazed down at the top of the queen’s head. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”
“I am not a ‘ma’am,’ I am a queen.” Balling her hand into a fist, Tepa knocked on the man’s breastplate. The resulting sound was muffled. “A good fit,” the queen mumbled.
The young soldier stared ahead to the opposite wall, seemingly unperturbed by her close inspection. “Of course,” Bell said. “And I meant no offense, but I’m not quite sure what a queen is.”
Rin Tepa glanced up and frowned. “It is like your High Cleric and your First Magistrate in one, but without the religion.”
“I thought that was a consul?”
“No. A consul is more like a deacon, in that she oversees a certain segment of the population, usually by province, though if you are familiar with the Vandu, that need not be the case. The consuls report to the king, or myself.” Lifting his arm, she examined the groove beneath the shoulder. “Leather underneath?”
“Silk sewn padding. Then what is a lord?”
“A lord is like a consul, except he reports to the consul.”
“Like a county priest and his sextons?”
“Yes, exactly, though we call them lords and mayors.”
“They sound like the same system.”
“It is. Our system is designed off of the same ranks of ancient Trel.”
“Then why change the titles?”
Rin Tepa stepped back and smiled. “Because, my people have no faith, and the lack of religion is not enough for them. They must have different titles also. Somehow that removes the religion, where there was none already.”
“The title means more to them than the underlying reality.”
“Indeed, and more too than the intent. Silly, is it not?”
The soldier smiled, his lips parting to show pearly white teeth lined in perfect rows. “No, actually it seems quite common, Queen.”
Tepa’s lips folded inward as she glared an equal challenge to the man’s smile. Suddenly, her face lightened and she broke into a jovial and almost flowery laugh. “Quite so.” Her smile faltered as a faraway look entered her eyes. She blinked twice, the muscles twitching in her jowl. What she was thinking, Null couldn’t know, but she seemed to regret taking pleasure in anything at such a time. The moment passed, and bending forward to resume her examinations, Queen Tepa lifted an arm to the man’s sword. As it landed on the hilt, Bell’s hand closed in a gentle grip around her wrist.
“Please do not do that,” he sa
id.
“I wish to examine it. Is it of the same make?”
“The same make?”
“Yes, the same make. See? This is why I must examine it for myself.”
“I do not think that would be wise.”
Stepping back, Rin Tepa rolled her eyes impatiently. “Do you know what a mage is?” she asked.
“No, I do not.”
“Let me enlighten you.” Rin Tepa raised her free hand, and as she did so, a small light blossomed at the tip of her pointer finger. “If I pressed this finger to your chest, it would go through the plate without resistance.” To prove her point, the queen touched the finger to the hem of his tabard. The light extinguished and a tiny plume of smoke wafted as she lifted the hem to show him the small hole. “If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead, so may I examine the blade?”
Without a word, he released her wrist and drew his sword. He offered it to her hilt first.
“Thank you,” Tepa said. She did not accept the blade from him, instead, she bent forward to study it without lying a hand on it. “I have not seen this type of steel in many years. Where was it made?”
“The blade or the steel?”
Tepa frowned. She hummed with a finger pressed to pursed lips. “Hmm. His craftsmanship is not so rough, but the metal is definitely his, so too the design. Where does it come from?”
“A foundry in Riften, I imagine.”
“Riften, you say?” Motioning to Null, the queen righted herself and stepped to the door. Her voice drifted through the walkway as her feet disappeared around the bend. “Come along, Null.”
Still holding his sword, and with a confused look, the man blinked. Null smiled as she stepped past him and out the door. As she turned the corner she watched him sheath the blade before quickening his steps to catch them.
“Uh, yes,” Bell answered as he reached the queen’s left. “That is where most of Trel’s metals are forged.”
“In only the one city?” the queen balked. “How absurd.”
“The best metals,” the legionnaire clarified. “The metals used for the Legion’s affairs.”
Death's Merchant: Common Among Gods - Book One Page 76