The Tale of the Night Sky
E stora placed her hand on Zachary’s shoulder. She felt him tremble.
“That is all you can tell me?” he said.
She could see the effort it took for him to contain his temper, his worry.
Telagioth hesitated, an uncharacteristic moment of doubt for him. “We sensed a cataclysmic event,” he said finally. “The wraith succeeded in slaying a god, or at least a lesser one. Not our Dama,” he quickly added. “I think we would know if that had happened.”
It took a moment for Estora to register the implication of his words, and at first she thought she must have misunderstood him.
She almost laughed, but not in the way of a jest, but with a tinge of hysteria.
After Karigan had used her moonstone as a beacon to lead so many people to safety when the lower city was ablaze, some folk had seemed to see her as a Spirit of Light sent by the gods.
It had enraged Prime Brynston to no end and he’d been ready to put her on trial as a heretic, but Estora had persuaded him that Karigan was nothing of the sort and that the folk who had been so fearful were grateful for her guiding them out of the conflagration.
He spoke no more of a trial though she knew the issue still irritated him.
But now, had Telagioth just indicated Karigan was a—a god? Did the Eletians look to her as more than adopted Eletian royalty? Impossible, she thought.
“You are telling us a god has been killed?” Les Tallman demanded.
“A lesser god,” Telagioth said. “The night sky will tell the tale.”
“It will what?” Les’ expression was one of disbelief.
“Did I misunderstand, or did you imply Karigan is a god?” Estora asked.
Telagioth shook his head. “No, my lady. Our Dama is many things, but she is not a god. I apologize if my words suggested otherwise.”
Lhean approached once again with Esmere still in his arms. “I believe your daughter has quieted,” he said. It was such a simple but calming thing to hear when in the midst of a discussion about god slaying and a missing friend. Esmere’s nurse came forward and collected her small ward.
“I will now go sit with your Green Rider lieutenant,” Lhean said. “Perhaps I can aid her in her distress.”
The moment gave Estora time for what Telagioth had said to finally sink in.
“Is it even possible to slay a god?” she murmured, more to herself.
In the teachings of the moon priests, the gods were all-powerful.
They were not mortal humans, and she always believed that at some point in time people began to depict them as human, or near human, to be relatable, less an idea and more solid in the minds of those who worshipped them.
She and Prime Brynston had gently disagreed on this notion.
In the Book of the Moon, it was written that humankind was created in the vision of the gods.
As conservative as her upbringing had been, she had not taken everything in the Book of the Moon as verbatim, but as metaphorical.
Teachings. Morals. She knew that on this, Brynston would also disagree.
As quietly as she had spoken, Telagioth heard her.
“Nothing is permanent,” he replied. “Not this Earth or the sun, or all the stars in the universe. Not the Eletians, and not even your gods. All pass with time. It may take many eons, but at last all changes and ends like the ocean tides that come in and go out, forever altering the shoreline with every wave, with every ripple, even if subtly.”
“If that is so,” she said, “if a god has died this night, we should send for Prime Brynston.”
“No,” Zachary said in a sharp voice.
“My lord,” she said, “the slaying of a god—this is beyond. I can’t even begin to comprehend what it means, the repercussions.”
“We will not send for Brynston until we know more.”
Telagioth watched their exchange intently, but his mild manner did not reveal his thoughts.
The very idea that gods could end, could be killed, was too much. It was shattering. But perhaps Zachary was right not to send for Brynston, for what did Eletians know of Sacoridian gods? Telagioth must be wrong.
The Eletian’s gaze settled on her with a knowing intensity. Those ancient eyes of his. Perhaps he was ancient enough to know more about her gods than even she.
When the Eletians had no more to offer, they departed, and Lieutenant Brennyn, seeming much more her old self, left to resume her duties. The evening wore on with reports coming in to Zachary of updated casualty lists and the fruitless hunt for the wraith. There remained no word of Karigan.
Estora tired of the armory with only uncomfortable thoughts of how her faith had been shaken by Telagioth’s words.
Hours had come and gone though she knew not how many for she could not hear the city bell toll through the thick walls.
She guessed it was some time past midnight.
Zachary paced, his temper growing shorter with those who could provide him with no answers.
She caught his hand and softly said, “She will return. She always does.” Return from where, however?
She did not know, but her words seemed to comfort him.
Turning to Donal, she said, “There has been no sign of this wraith in the castle. Might we retire to our quarters? This chamber is not a suitable nursery for my children.”
“If you would allow me a moment to consult with the others, my lady.”
He stepped into the corridor to speak with the captain of the guard and other Weapons, with Zachary joining them.
To her satisfaction, it was agreed the danger was past for now, but additional Weapons would stand guard around the royal apartments.
She sent Jaid and the nurses ahead with the chil dren.
She was about to follow when a guard escorted a man and woman to Zachary.
She recognized them as two of the star masters Zachary allowed to use the observatory on the castle roof.
Both were garbed in heavy coats and mittens and brimmed with excitement.
She wondered what business they could possibly have with their king on a night such as this.
“The sky, Your Majesty!” the man exclaimed. “It has changed.”
Estora froze in place. Telagioth’s words about the slaying of a god came back to her: “The night sky will tell the tale.”
The blinding flash in the mortal sphere had heralded the transformation of the divine energy of the slain god-being, Salvistar, steed of the god of death. The plasmic power of the god erupted into the heavens.
The star masters back on the Earth had long watched and recorded the movements of the moon, planetary bodies, stars, and other phenomena, but on this night they had observed the sudden appearance of a stellar mist form.
The ordinary gaseous clouds far above in the heavens they theorized to be dust and ice adrift, illumined by starlight, but never had they seen a cloud form with such immediacy and so much closer than all others.
Even when they stepped away from the great scope on the castle roof, they could faintly make it out with the naked eye.
It undulated, thickened and thinned, drifted and expanded.
Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it shimmered like the bursting of millions of stars.
Then faded. The vapor dissipated afterward and in its place was revealed an entirely new constellation.
The star masters gazed at it in wonder and plotted it out on their star charts, and drew various shapes of what they thought it resembled.
They settled on calling it the Great Horse.
And only then did they conclude, after recording their observations and making calculations, that the formation went beyond the natural philosophy of the study of the heavens, but in fact had been an event of rare and numinous import.