Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Ivy
My uncertainties gnaw at me until a queasy sense of resolve forms in my gut. As we ride back toward the Temple of Tranquil Skies, my gaze shifts along the horizon, searching for a landmark I spotted on our journey to the clay factory.
We have to keep a slow pace with most of our number—which now includes the seven sacrificial accomplices we were able to rescue—piled into two wagons rather than on horseback. The sun has dipped to the horizon by the time I spot the crooked spire in the distance.
I nudge my horse forward to ride next to Stavros, knowing Rheave will keep pace. “That’s a temple of Kosmel. Alek mentioned it when we passed the first time.”
Stavros considers the distant building with its irregular architecture, presumably designed to echo the godlen of luck and trickery’s interest in aiding those who aren’t following the straightest paths in life.
His gaze slides back to me. “What are you thinking, Lady Thief?”
I adjust my grip on Toast’s reins, abruptly nervous even though I have no real reason to be. “I’d like to make a detour over there. On my own,” I add quickly when Rheave draws in a breath to speak. “There’s a matter I’d like to take up with the godlen who’s called on me.”
Both of my men pause in pensive silence. We haven’t broadcast Alek’s discovery about the riven to all of our allies for fear of how Tinom will respond, but the scholar informed the rest of my men not long after he revealed his findings to me.
Rheave makes a disgruntled sound. “I could come with you and stay out of the way once we get to the temple. It might not be safe for you to go off on your own.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be less noticeable than the bunch of you. No one will be looking for a single rider. You should stay together in case the scourge sorcerers come looking for us for revenge. I’ll meet you back at the Temple of Tranquil Skies—I might even make it there before you do.”
Stavros lets out a sigh but reaches across the space to bump his elbow against Rheave’s arm. “You’re going to have to learn that there’s no subduing our woman’s independent streak. And she has a point. You’re the most powerful protection we have other than her magic.”
The former general tips his head toward me with a fond smile and compassion smoldering in his gaze. “Go on and see what the trickster can tell you. I’d like to hear it too.”
I meet his eyes with a wave of affection. “Thank you.”
Tapping Toast’s sides, I send him cantering across the open plains toward the temple. It’s far enough away that after a time I have to draw him back to a brisk trot to avoid exhausting him.
By the time I reach the cluster of ramshackle homes around the temple, where I guess the devouts and maybe eager dedicats take their rest, evening has fully set in. Lanterns gleam against the darkness in the temple’s mismatched windows.
I tie Toast to one of the posts outside the temple. Kosmel is a patron of thieves, but I’m not especially worried about losing my mount.
Anyone who tries to make off with this cantankerous creature against his will is going to regret it.
Several crows perch on the crooked points of the roof. They let out a few hoarse caws at my arrival.
I step through the doorway of dark gray stone into a high-ceilinged chamber. The floor tiles are both cracked and polished.
Off to the side of the room, a devout in gray robes nods to me in welcome before resuming his current task—tossing scraps of bread and cheese onto the floor. At least a dozen small, furry bodies wriggle around him, snatching tidbits with the scrabble of tiny claws against the floor.
The rat is Kosmel’s other holy animal. Apparently this temple hosts a colony of them.
I restrain a grimace and walk to the silver statue of the godlen looming at the far end of the worship room.
This depiction of Kosmel stands only twice as tall as me, less impressive than the massive statue in the one other temple in his honor I’ve visited back in Florian. Beneath his hood, his lips are curled in a typical sly smirk.
One hand extends to beckon me closer—the other is tucked behind his back as if concealing a gambit. A silver crow perches on his left shoulder, and two rats sprawl across his feet.
One of them is a living rat rather than part of the statue, I discover when I get closer and it darts away with a squeak. I raise my eyebrows at the image of the godlen, but I can’t really complain about the company he keeps when it includes me.
Kosmel stood up for me when everyone else in my life would have had me hung for my magic. He helped me guide my power away from doing harm.
As frustrating as he can be, I have to give him credit for that.
As usual, a few dice lie scattered on the platform around the statue’s booted feet. I pick up one, so many questions whirling in my head that it’s hard to know where to start.
Let’s cut right to the core of the matter. I squeeze my fingers around the hard cube and close my eyes, thinking as loudly as I can at the godlen.
Did the gods channel their power through human beings to bring about the Great Retribution?
I open my eyes to toss the die. It rattles across the platform and lands on three.
A moderate yes. My stomach clenches.
I grasp the die again. Did channeling the power turn those people into the first riven sorcerers?
Another roll, another three. I stare at it for a moment, letting the answer sink in.
There’s my confirmation. Kosmel isn’t trying to deny it. But then, in the past he’s hinted at the damage the gods have done to people like me.
Maybe he wants me to know.
There are all sorts of other questions clamoring to be voiced, but one rises up so swiftly it overwhelms them all. I clutch the die against my palm.
Did you leave us broken like this on purpose, as punishment?
The die bounces across the platform with more force than I intended. It seems to take forever to come to a stop.
When it does, six dots gleam up at me.
The most emphatic no.
I glance up at the statue poised over me. A streak of shadow falls across the godlen’s face just for an instant, like a tear trickling down his cheek.
I blink and it’s gone, but a lump fills my throat. A prick of my own tears burns at the back of my eyes.
All this time, the recriminations, the pain, the executions—it’s all been a terrible mistake?
I snatch up the die and roll it with a thought that races through my head. Can you fix us?
I’m left gazing at another six. Fuck.
A brief pressure grazes my shoulder, as if some invisible presence is offering me a reassuring—or perhaps apologetic—pat.
The gods have so much power, but there are things beyond their reach. Cracks that can’t be sealed.
I don’t think I even really hoped there was a way, but I find myself swiping at my eyes all the same.
This is how I am. This is how I’m going to stay.
As I reach the stable next to the Temple of Tranquil Skies, I can tell I did arrive ahead of the rest of our makeshift squadron. My pulse hiccups at the thought that they might have been waylaid after all, but one of the devouts emerges from the main temple building just as I’m dismounting.
“You separated from the others,” she says without any significant sign of concern.
I nod. “I had an extra errand to take care of. I don’t think they should be too far behind…”
She grins. “Not at all. Zevim’s been watching from one of the towers—he says he can see their lanterns about a half hour’s trek out.”
I exhale with a rush of relief. “Good.”
When I’ve left Toast comfortable in the stable, I emerge to find Casimir just crossing the yard. He hurries the last short distance to join me, his smile fond but his tone urgent. “How did the mission go? Is everyone all right?”
I lean toward him, grasping the front of his shirt, and he tucks his arms around me automatically. Even more tension unwinds as I rest my head against his shoulder, although nothing can budge the tightest knot that’s formed in my gut since my talk with Kosmel.
I force out my voice. “No significant injuries, seven accomplices rescued, and no one will be using that facility to make more clay bodies any time soon.”
Casimir hugs me a little closer. “Perfect. What was your extra errand, then?”
The devout must have passed on what I told her.
I swallow thickly. “I went to a temple of Kosmel to have a little chat.”
The courtesan hums. “And was it enlightening?”
“Kind of.”
I inhale, taking in his sweet sandalwood scent, and so much more I want to say fills my chest. Casimir has always seemed to have the closest relationship to his chosen godlen out of all of my men.
But what I want to discuss now, I don’t think I want to bring up within hearing of the devouts serving their godlen so avidly.
“I’m tired,” I say. “And I could use a bath. How about you practice some of that pampering skill on me?”
Casimir chuckles. “I’d be delighted to.”
He guides me into the temple to one of the smaller bathing rooms and starts the water running.
As he considers the limited selection of oils and soaps, I twist my hands together in front of me rather than starting to undress.
“Casimir… do you ever get frustrated with Ardone? Have there been times when you felt like there was more she could do for you that you deserve, and for some reason she hasn’t come through? ”
The courtesan turns to look at me. “I think it’s totally normal for any human being to have moments of frustration. But I don’t dwell on them. I know every godlen has a lot of dedicats to watch over—and what they want most is for us to thrive by our own abilities rather than relying on them.”
He pauses. “What did Kosmel tell you about the riven?”
The lump returns to my throat. I have to gather myself before I can go on. “If I believe the die’s answers came from him, he confirmed what Alek discovered. We were created to destroy the first scourge sorcerers. And they—they didn’t leave us this way on purpose. The gods can’t heal us.”
“Oh, Kindness.” Casimir walks straight to me and pulls me into another embrace. “At least you know that none of them see you as a monster, then. But it isn’t fair that you and others like you have to continue suffering the consequences of their misstep.”
“I don’t understand,” I mumble against his shirt. “Surely there was some way the godlen could have let people know that it wasn’t our fault, that we could use help.”
“Maybe they did, as well as they could. You’ve seen how stubborn people can be even when presented with facts. Once the idea became ingrained… Humans do like picking scapegoats so they have something concrete to aim their fears and angers at.”
They do. And maybe I’m doing the same thing with the anger simmering in me—aiming it at the gods when it’s really a huge mess of blame that I doubt anyone could pick apart.
I manage a rough bark of a laugh. “So you don’t think any divine beings are going to smite me for thinking some not particularly kind thoughts their way?”
Casimir strokes his hand up and down my back. “I think they’d see that anger as your right. We all need to be allowed some grace.”
He says it with so much calm certainty that I believe the words. As I tuck my head against his chin, I can’t help thinking that this man deserves that grace at least as much as I do.
How much has he endured over the years, trying to live up to his mother’s expectations to honor Ardone? How many sacrifices has he made that aren’t visible like his jeweled teeth?
He’s been here for me every time I’ve doubted or stumbled… Does he even understand just how much he means to me?
Love beams through my chest, softening the last of my frustration. I pull back just far enough to reach for the ties at the neck of Casimir’s tunic.
The corner of his mouth quirks upward. “Looking for company in your bath?”
“It’s always better when you join me.” I tug the ties loose. “But I’ve changed my mind. This time, I’m going to pamper you.”