The Immortal Crown

by Richelle Mead

  “So . . . wait. Where are we going, exactly?” Justin suddenly wished he had Mae after all. There’d been no danger in the temple, but now, going off into the unknown with Hansen, Justin felt much less secure.

  “To the home of a friend of mine,” Hansen told him. “A great man. A priest retired from active service who wants to talk to you. He’s almost right on the way back to your house, so it works out nicely.”

  Justin wasn’t so sure about that, but he’d made an ally of Hansen and had to deal with the consequences. He just hoped the other man’s love for his concubine would keep him loyal. “Who was the Cowlitz guy that the Grand Disciple mentioned?” Too late, Justin realized he should’ve known that if he was truly all-knowing, but fortunately, Hansen was too excited to notice the slip.

  “The defector. The three men he trained will come with us and pretend to be lecturers like the others.”

  “So they’re the actual threats here. The rest are your guys?”

  “Yes. And they’ll be thrilled to bring their women,” said Hansen. “Thank you. Thank your god—I look forward to learning more about him!”

  It occurred to Justin then that this plan involved letting a large number of Arcadian refugees into the RUNA. When he’d originally left Panama, he’d tried to get visas for all of Tessa’s family and been denied. He had to hope Arcadians held more political value, or he would have seriously led poor Hansen and these “others” astray.

  Having regrets? asked Horatio.

  No, Justin told him. If we stop them from carrying out a plot to take down our infrastructure, it’ll be well worth the cost of a dozen refugees.

  He had nightmarish visions of being led to a shack in the woods, but the house Hansen took him to was a well-kept suburban residence with less of a farm feel than Carl’s place had. And although the home had a fair amount of privacy from its neighbors, it was still in enough of a neighborhood to give Justin some sense of normality.

  At least until he stepped inside.

  There had to be nearly fifty people crammed inside the house’s living room, something he’d been totally unprepared for since there were only three other cars in the driveway. While some showed higher quality clothing reflective of the upper class, most appeared to be from Arcadia’s struggling masses. He had no time to ponder the secrecy that must’ve gone into this meeting because they all fell silent at his and Hansen’s entrance. More remarkable still, Justin noticed that a third of those gathered were women, and although they wore the traditional modest clothing and hovered near the crowd’s edge, there was something fresh and different about the way they interacted with their men here, compared to what Justin had observed so far in Arcadia. These weren’t just struggling Arcadians, Justin suspected. They were dissatisfied ones. An elderly man with snow white hair came forward slowly, hobbling on a cane. The smile he gave them was warm, and he embraced Hansen warmly.

  “Timothy, I’m so glad you made it—and so glad you brought our esteemed guest.” The old man extended his hand to Justin. “I’m Gideon Wexler. Welcome to my home. If there’s anything I can get you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “He hasn’t eaten,” said Hansen.

  Justin shook his head. “No, don’t worry about that. Hansen, what’s going on? I asked you to find others to go with us who thought like you . . . but all these people can’t come to the RUNA.”

  “I know,” said Hansen. “And they aren’t all going. Just some of them. The rest know they have to stay here, but they want to meet you and learn from you before you leave.”

  The sea of faces swam before Justin’s eyes, and he focused back on the two men closest to him. “Learn what?”

  “About your god,” said Gideon. “We’ve long been dissatisfied with our lots, with the way Nehitimar’s power and wealth is abused by the temple and the government. We’d thought when revolution comes—and it will come—we’d either have to do it without a god or radically reform our worship of Nehitimar. Only, when we prayed and asked for guidance, we received none. Hopefully your god will answer our prayers. Teach us about him, and we will carry on his worship in secret after you and the others have gone.”

  Justin felt his eyes widening. “I just revealed myself to Hansen today . . . and you’re already prepared to jump on board with another god?”

  “We’ve been waiting for a sign for a very long time,” said Gideon serenely. “This is it, and we aren’t going to delay and waste it. Timothy told us of your miraculous recovery and the knowledge your god possesses.”

  “And he got the Grand Disciple to let Elaina come with me to the Lost Lands,” said Hansen eagerly. “Those coming with me can bring their families too.”

  Murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowd, and Justin resisted the urge to pinch himself. “Okay, look, before we get any farther, you have to stop calling it the Lost Lands. The RUNA, the Republic . . . any of those are fine. But not the Lost Lands.”

  Everyone around him nodded eagerly, as though he’d just delivered the most profound piece of wisdom in the world’s history. Inside, he was reeling.

  What have you gotten me into? he demanded of the ravens.

  This was all you, Horatio assured him.

  “Tell us more,” said Gideon. “Tell us how we may worship your god. Tell us how you’re connected. How do you serve him?”

  “I . . .”

  It was a weird position for Justin to be in, one in which he had no words or stories ready. If he’d had any sense at all, he would’ve denied all connection to the divine, but he could hardly do that after his sales pitch to Hansen. Keeping Hansen and his allies close was key to stopping the Arcadian plot. Justin swallowed.

  “I’m his . . . priest.”

  Geraki and the ravens had called him that often, but it was the first time Justin had used the term aloud to describe himself, and he was surprised at the power it imparted. Gideon looked so overjoyed that he might sink to his knees in adoration. Instead, the old man took Justin by the arm and led him to a chair in the center of the room.

  “Come. Tell us everything. Everything you can.”

  “I have a couple hours at most,” Justin warned him. “They’ll wonder what happened to me.”

  “Then tell us everything you can in a couple hours.”

  All of those gathered sat down, either on the floor or in chairs, and watched Justin with rapt eyes while he worked to keep his exterior composed. What do I tell them? I don’t know anything about worshipping Odin.

  It was a strange but true statement. He knew Odin’s history academically, as any servitor would, and he’d learned a host of spells and magical rune meanings. The day to day worship of the god was nothing that had ever come up, though. Geraki had a collection of followers that met in secret, but Justin had never attended their services.

  You’re Odin’s priest, said Magnus. Your job is to lead the people and guide them into love and devotion to our god. Whatever ways you have of doing that will be correct. Worship of him evolves. You will define what that is now, in this place and in this time.

  Fatigue gnawed at the edges of Justin’s consciousness, though adrenaline was currently keeping him as alert as it might a praetorian. To be safe, he reached into his coat pocket for his Exerzol bottle and popped another pill. Mae was right that he might regret it tomorrow, but only getting through the next two hours mattered.

  “His name is Odin,” said Justin at last. “And he’s the king of all the gods.”

  There was a collective intake of breath, though one person dared to ask, “What other gods? Like Nehitimar?”

  Someone tried to shush the speaker, but Justin waved it off. “No, no. Questions are permitted. Questions are encouraged. Odin is a god of wisdom and knowledge. The gods and goddesses he rules over are called the Vanir and the Aesir. Some are his relatives. Some are just, uh, associates. Some of them interact with humans.”

  “Goddesses?” asked a young woman boldly. “Gods can be women?”

  Justin realized in the Arc
adian system, Nehitimar’s wives didn’t hold divine status equal to his. They weren’t human exactly, but they also weren’t full-fledged gods.

  “Yes,” he said firmly. If ever there was a group that needed female empowerment, it was this one. “The goddesses are on equal footing with the gods. One of them—Freya—is especially powerful. A match for Odin. Some people say she and Frigga—his wife—are aspects of the same deity, but that’s a more complex mystery for later. Let’s get back to him.”

  What unfolded in the next two hours was a mix of everything he’d scraped together about Odin, a recitation of Gemman ideals of social and gender equality, and some of the greatest improvisation of Justin’s life. What surprised him immensely was how much they loved the stories in which Odin faced hardship. He told them about how he’d sacrificed his eye for wisdom, how he’d grieved when his son Baldur was killed. Yet, Justin always brought it back around to make Odin triumphant, and they loved that too.

  Nehitimar is cold and unyielding, Justin thought. He makes no sacrifices, neither do his high priests. They take and take while the people give and give. That a god might be relatable is blowing their minds. Not too relatable, of course. They still want to look up to him, but hearing about his weaknesses is just making him that much more powerful.

  The ravens silently agreed and offered no comment when Justin begin outlining ways the people could worship him. He had nothing on which to base any ceremony and used a mix of elements observed from other gods’ worship, as well as what he knew about the nature emphasis of Old Norse religion. The Arcadians liked that although Odin required respect and fealty, he didn’t require the wealth and heavy taxation of Nehitimar’s worship. Justin taught them ansuz, the rune most associated with Odin directly and had a feeling many would be secretly wearing ansuz pendants when he left. Gideon in particular seemed to find deeper understanding as Justin briefly outlined the rune’s higher meanings.

  He truly is a priest, noted Magnus. He’s one who could grasp the runes and their secrets. You must make sure he knows what he needs to know before you leave.

  I don’t even know what he needs to know! Justin snapped back. I’m making half of this up as I go along.

  And you’re doing a great job, said Horatio. All-father is pleased.

  In conversing with the ravens, Justin had fallen silent. Seeing the curious looks of the Arcadians, he turned apologetic. “Sorry. Odin speaks to me through his ravens, Hugin and Munin. Thought and Memory. Normally, they stay with him, bringing him the world’s knowledge, but he’s blessed me by allowing them to advise me.”

  I don’t think “blessed” is a word you’ve ever used with us, said Horatio. We’re touched.

  Hush. These people need some signs and wonders. Feel like making an appearance?

  That caught the ravens by surprise, a rarity Justin had little chance to appreciate. Are you sure? Magnus returned. You know what it’s like when we manifest, and you aren’t in great shape to begin with.

  Yes, Justin knew. The ravens were so bound to him after all these years that if they left his mind and took on corporeal form, he was left with a splitting headache. But in his state, he wasn’t sure he could pull off any rune spells. One of Justin’s most frustrating issues with the religions he’d investigated was that they were all talk and little action. These people deserved action.

  Do it, said Justin.

  There was a poof, and like that, Horatio and Magnus appeared out of thin air, causing gasps and screams from the assembly. They beat their huge black wings as they sought a place to land, and instinctively, Justin held out his arms, offering a perch to each one. They accepted, and although his head did feel like it was going to explode, there was a rightness to having the ravens there.

  After that, the people were his.

  He gave them everything else he could think of to carry on a fledgling worship of Odin, including naming Gideon as an interim priest. “Pray and do your best,” he told the old man. “Odin may come and guide you further in your dreams.”

  The crowd was equally awed when Justin made the ravens disappear, and they followed him to the door when Hansen finally said he could leave. One tug on Justin’s sleeve caught his attention, and he saw it was the same girl who’d spoken to him at the beginning. This truly was an unusual group if they allowed their women the right to talk and question.

  “Thank you for speaking to us,” she said shyly. “I wish we’d been able to learn more about that goddess—Freya. Or would . . . or would that make Odin angry?”

  The girl’s face was heavily marked by Cain, but there was an intelligence and strength in her eyes that Arcadian discipline and lack of formal education hadn’t diminished. “No,” he said. “She is his equal, and they can exist together. You can worship her and pray to her as well.”

  Way to advocate for the boss, said Horatio, sounding more amused than upset.

  These people need to see a female face on the divine, Justin insisted. It does no one any good to just have Odin slip into Nehitimar’s tyrannical role. Odin will be better served by empowered, free-thinking people, men and women alike.

  The gravity of that thought, that he was pondering what might best serve Odin, drew Justin up short and left him momentarily at a loss for words. The Arcadian girl tilted her head and studied him curiously.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Justin put his show face back on and tried to smile reassuringly. “Absolutely.”

  She smiled tentatively in return. “Can you tell me anything else at all about Freya? Anything about what she’s like?”

  Justin lacked some of the more spiritual insights about Freya that he did Odin, but his mental encyclopedia of most gods was still at the ready. “She governs love, sexuality, and fertility . . . but also war and death too. She rides into battle as fiercely as any other warrior but still remains the most beautiful woman in the world. Beauty like that is shown, not covered up or left to be ashamed of.”

  The girl’s eyes were wide. “What does she look like?”

  Justin was on the verge of offering some esoteric answer about how one couldn’t describe the beauty of a goddess but instead found himself saying, “Her hair is gold, like sunlight on a winter’s day, worn long and unbound with a crown of flowers on top.”

  “What kind of flowers?” asked the girl breathlessly.

  “Apple blossoms.” Then, returning back to Norse canon and away from his own images of divine beauty, he added, “And she wears a cloak of feathers and an amber necklace.”

  As the words left his lips, he again found himself doing a mental double take. Is it more than coincidence and my own unresolved feelings that are muddling Freya and Mae together? Is there a connection I’ve missed? The girl was too awed to say more, and with Hansen pulling him to the door, Justin had no chance to cultivate the small fear beginning to grow in the back of his head. Everyone else wanted to make their goodbyes, especially Gideon. Justin felt dizzy by the time he made it to Hansen’s car, but whether that was from the stories he’d just spun or sheer exhaustion, he couldn’t say. There was also the possibility he was reeling from something else, a feeling of exhilaration and lightness that had been building in him as he spoke to the assembly and that seemed to fill every part of his being with power.

  Odin’s presence, affirmed Magnus. Your words brought him to this place tonight. Do this often, and you will always enjoy the touch of his power.

  I don’t think it’s anything I’ll be doing again soon, Justin countered.

  The raven didn’t buy it. Won’t you, priest?

  Hansen was high and thrilled in his own way and chatted the whole way home about how Justin had changed his life and how all those who’d heard him tonight would hold true to Odin and not betray Justin. Justin hadn’t thought that much about betrayal until now and realized, with a sinking heart, that it’d only take one slip from one person to reveal what he’d done. Promoting worship of anyone other than Nehitimar was high treason in Arcadia.

  T
hat group seemed pretty caught up in the excitement of it all, said Horatio. So long as they don’t start doubting for three more days, you should be fine.

  In fact, added Magnus. You could probably go after that staff in your free time.

  Justin was incredulous. Free time? I need to lay low and not doing anything else to cause attention until we go home. The staff is out of our reach.

  It could be a powerful weapon for you, said Magnus.

  For me or for Odin? asked Justin.

  Does it matter? What Hansen described sounds like something that creates a glamor or aura of influence around the bearer. Imagine the things you could achieve with that kind of asset.

  My own personality does that for me, Justin joked.

  The raven was stern. Not like this. This object may have been instrumental in the Grand Disciple’s rise to power and why he’s able to exert the control he does not only over his followers but his government as well. Find it and take it, and you would bring a great asset to Odin— and deal a harsh blow to Nehitimar.

  Justin was unmoved. I already am, in thwarting the Grand Disciple’s plan to tear apart our infrastructure! Mortal concerns like that are much bigger to me right now than nebulous immortal ones.

  Justin ignored the ravens’ further badgering and longed to discuss the night’s events with Mae when he arrived back at Carl’s estate. He was troubled by the priestly role he’d so easily slipped into, as well as some suspicions he was gathering about another godly influence. Mae was the only one who could understand, and Justin was grateful that socializing and post-dinner cleanup had detained the rest of the Gemman party. He was able to slip back into the guesthouse undisturbed and go immediately to Mae in his bedroom. The question of that surprising parting kiss was also still fresh in his mind.

  She was sitting on his bed when he entered to the room, which was unusual for her. Usually, she had a more predatory position staked out near the door. Her back was to him, though, and she flinched slightly at his entrance.