GENESIS #2
Ogden of Alendal, the great healer, in whose name she consecrated a new hospital.
Urien of Ihrafang, the defector from empire, who told of wonders beyond the stars.
Kanan Var Mondral, Dacil Var Solai, and Elyas Var Teneb—the martyred demon priests.
Eneva Nal Karak, the last Gatekeeper of Otavok.
And Ged Semira—spearhead of the resistance and father of a god.
When Jacen had put forth that final name last week, Ysira had walked out of the room.
But to omit Neri’s father from the legend they sought to craft, Jacen reasoned, would have come across as odd.
Though Ged hadn’t been much loved, he had been very present, both in Zivora and throughout this entire mess. He had even been its catalyst.
Seth still could not quite reckon with that, and he likely never would.
But a simple lie was more convenient than a complicated truth.
If it hurt Ysira to say Ged’s name today, she did not show it. Her mask never cracked.
When it was done and people began to file out of the chamber, Neri limped down from the throne. He brushed away Ysira’s hand when she tried to help him. Though in public, she was rarely far from her son’s side, Seth had not seen them speak to each other in private since Zal Fel.
“This had to happen,” Jacen said at Seth’s shoulder, causing him to startle. “Saraida and I invited a few we knew would be defiant and have to be dealt with, because the Zivoran elite will be harder to win over than the masses. They needed to see this.”
“Did we win them over?” Seth wasn’t so sure. He considered bringing up the conversation he’d had with Neri before this meeting, but . . . would Jacen take his word for it over that of his god?
“We will,” Jacen said firmly. “In time. They might be afraid at first, but they’ll come to understand. This was necessary.”
“I never said I disagreed,” said Seth. “I’m a knight. This isn’t my first execution. Besides, you and I have both killed for less.” He frowned. “I’m more concerned about the one he spared. What does he want with a Tier Two telepath?”
Just then, a guard approached, depriving Jacen of the chance to answer.
“Father Kheris,” the man called. “I have a petitioner here to see you.” “Now?” Jacen seemed puzzled until he recognized the petitioner in question, trailing behind the guard. “Oh—of course.” Nines said, “This won’t take long.”
The former Church novitiate still wore grey, but she had traded her robes for trousers and a long, sleeveless tunic belted at the waist. Her dense white curls were woven into a multitude of braids, seashells clattering whenever she turned her head.
A ropy scar sliced across her face from temple to chin, twisting the tip of her nose and the corner of her lip.
She’d tied a piece of dark cloth over the socket of her left eye, which the Firstborn physicians at Zal Fel had been unable to save.
Seth had done that to her.
She didn’t appear to hold it against him—at least, not enough that she acknowledged his presence. But Seth could not look at her without that guilt, ever present, lodged inside him like the tip of a jagged blade.
Nines sidestepped a pile of ash. If she suspected what it was, she gave no indication.
She shifted her weight back and forth, profoundly nervous about whatever it was she’d come to say.
Jacen was patient with her in that priestlike way of his that made people feel safe confiding in him, that sometimes still made Seth wonder whether he was right about everything.
“We need to talk,” Nines said. Then her colorless eye narrowed at someone behind Jacen.
At Neri.
Without looking, Seth knew he was there.
“Clear the room.” Neri did not speak loudly, but no one in this chamber had stopped paying attention to him. They eagerly obeyed, filing out until only Seth, Jacen, and Ysira remained.
Nines muttered something about coming back later.
“Syl Inissa,” said Neri, and Nines went stiff at the sound of her true name. “You stay.”
He waited until the heavy graven doors thudded shut. He faced Nines and Jacen beside her. Ysira hovered behind her son, expression suddenly cautious. On reflex, though Seth could not have said exactly why, he wrapped his metal fingers around the hilt of his sword.
“There are very few left alive who witnessed everything that happened at Zal Fel.” Neri gestured as he spoke.
“Our prophet. My uncle. My mother. Saraida Ancarath commands our Zivoran Guard. Lucan Teheda is of the Shrouded City, and the Disciples of the Gate devoted their lives to us before they knew who I was. You, however . . . You are an anomaly. You know a great deal of information which, should it reach the wrong ears, could jeopardize our stability. Consider, for example, our prophet’s parentage.
Consider my uncle’s possession, my father’s death, and the destruction of the White Cathedral. ”
Nines’ face tightened. In the few times Seth had seen her since she was released from the physicians’ care—she’d avoided them all, especially Jacen—she had never brought any of this up. Didn’t seem to want to think about it.
“That last one disturbed you,” Neri said. “This is obvious. Do you understand our concerns?”
Nines nodded slowly, still frowning. “You want me to swear fealty.” “Yes.” Neri didn’t qualify the statement. “You’re the only one who hasn’t.”
Nines had never once made eye contact with Seth, but—oddly enough—she did it with Neri. Perhaps it was because looking at him no longer felt like looking at anything human.
To Seth, it was like looking into the depths of space, into a void that had existed before time itself, that would devour them all in the end. Ultimate. Inevitable. To Nines . . . this seemed to evoke mild curiosity.
She said, “No.”
“Nines,” Jacen said tightly. “Think about this. There’s a place for you in our Church—”
She rounded on him. “I told you I wouldn’t be part of something like that again. And you said you wouldn’t make me.”
“Consider,” Neri said, “what it might cost you to refuse.”
Red light bloomed at his fingertips. Ysira and Jacen both spoke at once.
“Neri, stop—”
“Wait—”
“For gods’ sake, she’s just a child—”
Seth had drifted far away from himself. The men and women on Saraida’s list had been called profiteers of the Harvest, corrupt and deserving of punishment, but now Seth had to wonder whether their greater crime was defiance.
Jacen put himself between his novitiate and his god—not quite getting in Neri’s way but extending a pacifying hand. “I trust her with my life,” he panted, a wild look in his eyes. “I beg of you. Don’t do this.”
Neri held up his hand. “Enough.” The light flared brighter.
We will devour.
Seth knew very well that Naxal was capable of annihilating this girl, innocent or not, and there wasn’t a thing anyone present could do to stop it.
He had to try anyway.
“You spared the other one,” he said. “The telepath. Why not—” “She’s too strong to be an optimal candidate.” Neri turned his gaze briefly on Seth. “And that one agreed to serve.”
Seth racked his memory to discern what in the world Neri might be talking about. He came up empty. He did not, however, miss the utter horror that dawned on Ysira’s face. She knew something. But what?
“Still,” Neri mused, “we are not exactly spoiled for choice. The possibilities could be . . .” He trailed off.
“There’s a list,” Ysira burst out. Neri turned to her. She spoke quickly, as though she feared she were running out of time. “The Disciples found it with one of the Church’s surviving seekers. A list of known telepaths, of all Tiers, across the Dominion.”
Neri’s brows went up. “You kept this from us?”
“I didn’t think it would be necessary,” Ysira said. That tone of near-pleading, from her lips, made the hairs on the back of Seth’s neck stand on end. “I’ll give it you.”
Neri did not change his stance. But the light in his hand dimmed.
He frowned, almost as though pained. A war behind his eyes.
Then Nines exclaimed, “I’ll leave!” Neri’s frown deepened.
“I’ll leave,” Nines said again. “I’ll leave Zivora. It’s what I was coming to say, anyway.”
“Where is she supposed to go?” Jacen demanded. “The world outside is chaos. It’s not safe anywhere but here.”
“He’s right,” Ysira said. “This isn’t—”
“Mother, enough,” Neri said sharply. “We will decide what is necessary.” His eyes had not left Nines.
“You can sense she’s telling the truth,” Seth interjected. “Can’t you? Your whole life, I’ve never been able to lie to you.” He struggled to hold his ground as the demon’s gaze found him once more. “Neri. Please. I know you can tell.”
“If you don’t trust your senses, trust mine,” said Jacen. “Look inside my mind. See what I see.”
A silent exchange passed between Neri and Jacen. Neri watched Nines for another interminable moment, studying her intently. At last, he lowered his hand.
“Be gone by sunset. Should you ever return, we will not hesitate.” It seemed that he had nothing left to say.
But before he turned to go, Seth caught another glimpse beneath that chilling alien exterior: exhaustion and, just maybe, a touch of relief.
Whatever it was passed like a spiderweb glimmering in the sunlight—terribly fragile; there and then gone.
“Bring us that list,” Neri said to Ysira. “And do not make the mistake of thinking yourselves above our laws.”
He limped away. This time, Ysira did not follow.
Jacen’s shoulders sagged like he’d finally started breathing again.
He braced a hand against the table to steady himself.
By accident, Seth and Nines exchanged a look. He felt a strange kinship with the girl, because right now, she seemed to be the only other person alive who shared his mind.
“Nines,” Jacen said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s time,” she said quietly. “I think . . . I’ve seen all I need to see.
I’m going home.”
“What about what Turil said? About your family?”
Nines glanced at Seth again. It was odd. He had no idea what they were talking about, in reference to words that had come out of his own mouth. Another detail lost in the abyss of his possession.