Godspeaker

by Tessa Crowley

  “He m-m-may not l-like me quite s-s-so much if he s-s-s-senses my intentions.”

  Perenor lowered his head. “Do you think you can outsmart him?”

  I didn’t know. But I supposed it didn’t matter so much when my hand was being forced like it was.

  We ate the rest of our breakfast in tense silence, and when we were done, we put on our waxed cloaks and were escorted out of the palace and up to a waiting carriage, black and nondescript. What I noticed first—

  “Wh-what are th-th-those?”

  They were huge and hairy, pawing at the stone with their massive claws. Their fur was black and they had long snouts and rounded ears.

  “They’re bears,” Perenor answered. “No camels in this climate.”

  “They’re t-t-t-terrifying,” I said, though they seemed domestic enough. The guards held open the carriage door and Perenor went in first.

  “They’re stronger than camels,” he said, and I climbed in behind him, though not after giving one last look to the beasts. “Hardier, too. But you can’t take them through the Wastes, so we never see them.”

  The guard slammed shut the door and thumped the side. The carriage took off with a rattle and groan of aging wood and metal.

  It was small and cramped and dark inside, and it may have been my imagination but the bears made for a rougher ride than the camels I was used to. It wasn’t a comfortable journey.

  For the most part, we rode in silence. I looked out the window for a while, watching the cramped streets of Avenos until we came to the gates, and all at once the grit and the dirt and the stone was replaced with sprawling moorland. A mist had settled into the lower places, and as we rumbled away from the dull roar of the city, the sound of mayflies and cold wind and, of course, the thundering of rain on the roof of the carriage.

  Eventually, I licked my lips and looked over at Perenor.

  “If this g-g-g-goes p-poorly,” I said, “Perenor, y-y-you must p-promise me you w-w-won’t interfere.”

  He turned away from the window. “Won’t interfere? You expect me to sit idly by while gods know what happens to you?”

  “Y-yes,” I answered unflinchingly, “th-that is p-p-precisely what you’ll do.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “P-P-P-Perenor—”

  “You’re my brother!” he interjected. “Maybe I haven’t always showed it, but you are. You’re my brother and I love you and I won’t just abandon you.”

  “There are m-m-more imp-portant things than m-me,” I said. “Wh-what is my l-l-life against all the l-lives in Andelan?”

  “And what are all the lives in Andelan against the only family I may have left?” Perenor countered.

  “Those w-w-words may s-seem like t-truth to y-y-your injured heart, b-brother, but wh-wh-when Umbrion p-p-p-possesses me to b-break the w-w-world instead of the c-c-city, you have to-to-to choose a s-s-side, and it c-can’t be mine.”

  “Do you think that likely to happen?” Perenor asked, suddenly alarmed. “Do you think he’ll possess you to break the world?”

  “I d-d-don’t know,” I answered honestly, “b-but it w-would be irresponsible to d-d-disregard the p-possibility b-b-because it makes you unc-c-comfortable.”

  Perenor looked away. He didn’t answer, so I knew I must have been getting to him.

  “I n-n-need to know y-you will do this,” I said to him. “Perenor…”

  Still, he stayed quiet. But I could see the conflict in his face, even when he turned it away from me. My words had struck something n him, though I couldn’t quite tell what.

  “What’s that sound?”

  I refocused my attention. I hadn’t noticed it while we were talking, but now that I was listening for it, I could hear the sound of a crowd – a mix of angry shouting, crackling fire, screaming—

  “Hold!” Perenor said, and the carriage rolled to a stop. He climbed out, and I could hear the guards flanking our carriage drawing their swords. Alarmed and concerned, I poked my head out of the door.

  Umbrion’s temple was standing on a rock on a hill in a dryer part of the moor, small and humble, surrounded by a mob of shouting people. Its doors were standing open, and to its left was a large, burning pyre into which they’d thrown Umbrion’s now flame-blackened sigil.

  “Sol’s Light,” Perenor said.

  I could only pick out bits and pieces of their angry shouting, but it was more than enough to know the context. Words like traitor, monster, queenslayer – I knew what they were doing, all at once. They were trying to raze his temple.

  “We should leave,” Perenor said to the man driving the carriage. “We should leave now, before they see us.”

  I stared, transfixed – my mind somehow refused to keep up with itself as it tried to process the scene. They were so angry.

  “It’s off!” Perenor barked to our guards. “The whole thing is off! We can’t send Silas into that, and unless the two of you think you can clear out that crowd on your own—”

  Someone screamed – not in anger, but in sudden, dreadful fear.

  I could see a group of them dragging her out of the temple. Black-robed, long-haired – shit. She was one of Umbrion’s priestesses. And suddenly I knew what else that burning pyre was meant for.

  “Gods above,” I heard Perenor say. “Silas, get back in the carriage—”

  But I was not listening. The only thing in my head – no, no, no, no—

  “No!”

  I ran past Perenor, knocking him off-balance, sprinting those last twenty yards.

  “Silas!”

  “No, stop it! Stop it! STOP!”

  But the crowd wouldn’t let me through – they were all shoulder-to-shoulder, screaming death, and the priestess – gods, they had bound her hands and feet with rope, they were dragging her toward the pyre—

  “NO!” I cried, but no one heard me.

  Her screaming started a moment later. There are no words to describe the sound an Andel makes when they are burned alive. I shoved and I shoved and my heart pounded and I screamed and the crowd, curse this crowd, they were cheering, and I couldn’t get through—

  The glove, my mind suddenly supplied – Perenor’s glove, I had it in my pocket – I fumbled for it, shoved it on.

  “Silas!”

  The moment it came down over my fingers, I gave one last great shove forward— “Move!”

  There was a blinding flash of light and a force that radiated out from me in all directions. Several went flying, others fell hard into the mud, but all of them were suddenly quiet.

  I ran for the pyre and realized, in the new and dreadful silence, that the priestess had stopped screaming.

  I could see her body through the flames, blackened face contorted into a now-silent scream. Fire was eating away at her robes, and her flesh—

  I screwed my eyes shut. I was nauseous. I gripped my stomach, fell against the wall of the temple. Behind me, the muttering started.

  “By order of the Lord-Regent, you’re commanded to vacate!” one of the guards cried from somewhere. “This is a felonious destruction of city property!”

  Even though it had stopped, the echo of her screaming was still rattling in my head. Even though my eyes were closed, I could still see her twisted, blackened face. No, no, no, no.

  “Th-th-this is n-n-not j-justice,” I said. The muttering got louder.

  “Vacate at once!” the guard bellowed. “This is obstruction of the Lord-Regent’s justice!”

  I lifted my face toward the crowd. I hated them at that moment, and I hated myself. Even when my will was my own, even when there were no gods to force my hand, everyone around me was dying.

  “Th-th-this is n-n-n-not justice!” I cried at them vision blurring with angry, impotent tears. “Sh-sh-she w-w-was n-not Umbrion!”

  The crowd was beginning to back away from me, as if all at once, they were deducing who I was.

  “Silas—!”

  It was Perenor, scrambling up to his feet – I must have knocked him d
own with the others while pushing through the crowd. He came running through the gap in the crowd.

  “Th-th-this is n-n-n-not j-j-justice,” I said my voice weakening as my stutter intensified. “Th-th-this is n-n-n-n-n—”

  I fell forward. In all the fear and alarm and adrenaline, there was anger, boiling up to the top. My shoulders shook, my heart burned.

  “Vacate!” the guards kept bellowing.

  “Silas…”

  Did you let this happen?

  In retrospect – because it was always so easy to have perfect vision in hindsight – it probably was not the smartest idea for me to try and speak to him. And it was foolish of me to grow even angrier when he didn’t answer.

  This is your temple. Your priestess. She is dead. And you just sat by and let her?

  Perenor was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. The Lord-Regent wanted me to pray, so I prayed – more fiercely and more pointedly than I had ever prayed about anything.

  Your temple is desecrated, defaced, and broken by those who once worshipped you. Do you care? Do you even notice?

  That horrible combination of anger and pain and fear was growing in me, strangling me. Why was he refusing to answer?

  Does our prayer and devastation mean so little to you that you would allow this to happen? Has it ever meant anything to you at all?

  At some point I had started to tremble. Every moment he was not answering was frozen torture on my aching heart. Why was he ignoring me, now of all times? Could he even hear me? Did he even care to listen? I felt as though I might be physically ripped apart with the mounting anger and heartache and screaming frustration in me.

  Why are you doing this? Have you not noticed that I am an Andel like them, that their pain is mine? If you’re going to kill them, you should give me the dignity of the same fate!

  The silence that answered was deafening. Why was he not answering? I had to do something, I had to do anything – this crushing powerlessness was eating me alive.

  I spun on my heel and turned to the temple.

  “Answer me!” I screamed into the broken temple, and behind me, Perenor made a sound of surprise. I could hear the crowd scramble away. “Answer me! I kn-kn-know you can hear m-me!”

  “Silas,” Perenor hissed, “what in Sol’s name are you doing?”

  “Answer me!” I bellowed, at the temple, at the sky, loud enough, I hoped, for all the gods to hear me and tremble at my words. “I am y-y-your Godspeaker! Answer me!”

  But he did not answer. And like a tide that rises in a storm and breaks over a city wall, I was left abandoned in my anger. He was not answering, and I was screaming at broken stones and shattered glass. And I hated him, and I hated myself, and I hated these monsters that would burn alive an innocent priestess, and there was nothing for me here. I screamed and I pushed over a piece of rubble that once was a pew and I fell to my knees and I wanted it to stop, I wanted people to stop dying because of me, was there nothing I could do?

  Hands on my shoulders. My brother’s voice, distant and indistinct. I was weak and hollowed out from emotion, and when I felt Perenor pull me into his arms, I fell against him. All I could do was sob, angry, heartbroken, lost, powerless, a wave broken over a wall and far from the ocean.

  “Silas, Silas, hush, you must calm down, we cannot stay here…”

  I didn’t know what he meant and I didn’t have the presence of mind to put it together. He pulled me tighter and I held onto him as though my life depended on it, because perhaps it did.

  “Silas, please,” he whispered, voice wavering from emotion as I sobbed and shook, “we can’t – ssh, I’ll go with you, over the ocean. I’ll take you with me, into the sky.”

  And wasn’t it silly, and wasn’t it childish for him to sing to me like we were both still children, and wasn’t it ridiculous that it worked just like it did all those seasons ago?

  “My ship will sail far, far from here,” he sang softly into my ear, “away from the fear and the terrible things. Silas, hush, you’re safe, I’ll protect you.”

  And that same foolish part of me that soothed at his words believed him when said it. I shut my eyes tightly and pressed myself into his chest. And it hurt, and I hated it, but somehow, somehow…

  “Come with me now, there’s no need for tears. Brothers we are and ever will be. You see? I remember the words.”

  His voice was drawn with emotion, and I still felt tattered and frayed, but I laughed, or did something like laughing. “You r-r-r-remember.”

  “I always remembered,” he said. “Some part of me always remembered.”

  And I wasn’t all right, and I wasn’t safe, but this was good. This moment with my brother, this moment was good. I held onto it with everything left in me.

  “We cannot stay here. They’re watching.”

  I didn’t know at first what he meant. I lifted my head and blinked my tear-blurred eyes.

  I could see them now that I was looking. The guards were still fighting them away, shouting at them to vacate, to leave at once or be tried for obstruction, staring, muttering, hugging their waxed cloaks around themselves.

  “It may not be the best idea for Umbrion’s Godspeaker to be seen weeping over his broken temple,” Perenor muttered to me.

  “I’m n-n-n-not…”

  “I know,” Perenor said, “but they don’t. Come on, brother-mine. We have to go.”

  He slid an arm around my chest and pulled me to my feet. I felt wobbly and weak with exhaustion.

  “The p-p-p-priestess—” I said.

  “Not now,” he said. “We can’t, not now, not while they’re looking.”

  “N-n-n-no,” I insisted, “n-n-no, we c-c-c-can’t l-leave her—”

  “We’ll send for her body, I swear to you I’ll see it done, but we have to go, Silas, we have to go now.”

  He steered me back toward the carriage, and right up until he shut the door behind me, I was staring at the pyre.

  I didn’t leave the palace again.

  I slept, mostly. When I did not sleep, I walked. I paced the rain-drenched gardens, traced patterns in the hallway, wandered the library. I admired, I watched, but I never engaged. I only ever spoke with Perenor, and that was getting rarer – much of his time was being monopolized by the Lord-Regent, though I never asked why.

  Every day I would find some new route through the palace, and I would walk until my legs were too sore to keep moving. Then I would go to bed and sleep until my body refused another moment of it. Then I would go back to walking.

  These were some of the blackest days of my life. So many people had already died around me, but that priestess haunted my dreams. There were moments when I shut my eyes and all I could see was her charred, screaming face.

  “Her name was Nara,” Soya said one rainy morning.

  I looked back at the door. I hadn’t heard her enter.

  “Her body was recovered and returned to her family,” she continued. “We weren’t sure what else to do with it. We’ve never…”

  I drew my knees up to my chest. From my perch on the bed, I could see out the window, out the back of the castle, where I could see the ocean stretch into dreary gray nothingness.

  “They’re starting to riot,” Soya said eventually. “Word has spread about what happened at Umbrion’s temple. They don’t want you in the city.”

  I could see her reflected in the glass of the window. She seemed to have aged fifty seasons in the few days we hadn’t spoken. She’d foregone her usual practical leathers in favor of patterned velvets more suited to her station. She looked handsome – so handsome that I almost didn’t notice the way she was staring at me, with worry, uncertainty, and fear.

  “There’s a rumor going around that you were seen weeping over the rubble at Umbrion’s temple,” she said.

  I wetted my lips. “It’s n-n-n-not wh-what it sounds,” I said.

  The answer didn’t mollify her.

  “I notice that you have not denied it,” she returned, with
a very delicate neutrality.

  “It’s n-n-n-n-not what it s-s-sounds,” I repeated, and if my voice was edged in desperation, I did not think it unwarranted. If my dearest friend could not abate her own suspicion of me, how could I reasonably expect it from anyone else?

  “Father never should have sent you to his temple,” she said. “We should have known something like this would happen. All over Andelan, Umbrion’s temples are being razed. We should have…”

  She sighed. It wasn’t that she was wrong, it was just that she knew, as well as I knew, that resentment of the past was a useless endeavor.

  “Is y-y-your f-father going to-to-to oblige them?”

  I looked back at her in time to see her frown. “What?”

  “The r-r-r-rioters.”

  “He’s…” she begins, but falters. “Silas, I won’t lie to you. He’s furious. When he heard the guard’s report, he nearly had you thrown into the prison under Silverwatch. Is it true that you screamed for Umbrion to manifest after you saw them burn the priestess?”

  I gritted my teeth. “It’s n-n-n-n-n—”

  “It’s not what it sounds,” Soya finished. “Right. Of course it isn’t. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. There’s always a reasonable explanation.”

  I turned fully to face her, hands knotting in the bedspread. “If y-your f-f-father’s s-so angry, then wh-wh-what has s-s-stopped him from ob-b-bliging the r-rioters?” I demanded.

  “I did, Silas, for Sol’s sake!” she said, clenched hand thumping loudly against the desk. “I nearly shouted myself hoarse talking him away from that edge, because I want more than anything in the world to find your innocence in the mounting evidence against you!”

  I hoped the sudden surge of pain was not evident on my face.

  “I saw you kill the Queen, I blamed Umbrion. I saw you kill your attackers, I blamed Umbrion. I saw you bring down a temple, I blamed Umbrion. And it’s so reasonable every time, and there’s always an explanation, but somehow it gets harder every time, because I know you can tap into his Craft, you said you could, and you said he knew you, and I keep replaying those conversations in my head, and now you’re at his temple, demanding for the manifest of the Traitor God, and I just—”