Chapter Forty-Two #2
Freedom. The word quivers in my throat.
“All you need to do is say yes.”
Such a small thing. But decisiveness feels as far away as Tempestra-Innara right now.
Staring at the ancient remains on the table, at the shards of reliquaries I can’t shake a sensation like when I was falling in Novena—drowning in the dark, grabbing blindly for whatever salvation I could find.
The idea of more gods is stifling. But at the same time, I wouldn’t be bound to any of them. They wouldn’t be my problem.
“If this happens”—my tongue is heavy, forming the words with tacky slowness—“if I agree to work with you… how? How does it play out?”
“As simple as this.” Rion walks over to another one of the niches. It opens, not to a body, but to something that I recognize instantly. Mostly because I saw it only minutes ago. Crystal, emerald, and silver. The Whisperer’s illusion was faithful save for one detail.
The reliquary is nearly empty.
When he places it in front of me, it’s clear there’s no more than a few swallows’ worth. More than Emmaus had squirreled away in his reverie, but not by much.
He taps the silver stopper with one finger.
“This is all that is left of Arcadius, the Green God. I spent centuries searching for any remaining reliquaries, understanding that there was no better weapon against my brethren, even if I would have to wait to wield it. Most of the ones I found were empty or, more often, reduced to shards. I could never risk sending a follower divinely gifted with my blood against Tempestra—I would be revealed before they got close enough to strike. So, I waited until I judged that their current avatar would be close to being spent before sending Emmaus.” He shrugs in defeat.
“It was a gamble that failed. And now my only choice is another gamble: to give you the last of Arcadius and hope what Tempestra did to you will result in their undoing.”
“You’ll just… give me the reliquary.”
“If you agree to help us, yes.”
Dead gods. Dead blood. New gods. New… I don’t know.
I don’t know what to do. My own blood beats thickly in my ears, making my cheeks feel like overplump ticks.
Thoughts stumble over themselves, trying to make sense.
And even more frustrating, they keep casting back to the Petrel.
To Nolan, ignorant of the absolutely shattering truths I’ve been gifted tonight.
What would he think if he knew what I know now?
What would he believe after learning it?
And why do I even care?
“You need time.” My indecision is as clear to Rion as the reliquary crystal. “I do not know how much of that there is. We have a ship waiting, ready for when the Arbiter reopens the port. But there’s no telling if that will last.”
“I need to think… to consider.” Hesitance isn’t the only problem right now. But, for once, I may have a solution. “Nolan, my… partner. And Caius. They believe we’ve gotten close to your heretics. That you’re almost willing to work with us.”
“And you’re suggesting…?”
“Continue letting them think that. The closer they think we are to your inner workings, the further we’ll be able to back Caius off.”
“You believe that is the best way to deal with them?”
Everything tightens, my eyes going to the table. And the body parts.
“I wasn’t implying another avenue,” Rion says, as if reading something he doesn’t like on my face. “Enough attention has been drawn to Cyprene as it is. We can spin a fiction instead, give you time. But not much.”
My chest loosens, though only a little. “And… what happens if I say no?”
Rion knows what I’m really asking—if refusing will lead to me becoming the heretics’ next source of illicit income.
“I told you, Lys. I don’t force anyone into service.
” His eyes are forgiving as they meet mine, but hard.
“If you say no, that’s your choice. You’ve proved that you know how to keep a secret.
But”—his words take on an sharp note—“this offer only comes once. Decline and you’ll never see the reliquary, or me, ever again.
I’ve been patient this long, I can be patient a little longer.
The rise and fall of another of Tempestra’s avatars is the blink of an eye to a god. ”
But not for me. That part hangs in the air, thick as incense.
Avery escorts me out of the cliffs, through walls and passages that stay where they should be this time.
Not that I would have noticed—there’s a lot on my mind as we make our way through the maze.
New gods and old, truths and deceptions, enough to keep me pensively silent until we reach the crevasse that leads back out to the city.
There, I pause. “How long have you been a part of this?”
My question seems expected. “Since shortly after a kind man took me off the streets and offered me a purpose.”
Offered. Not “gifted.” Not forced.
“Why bother with Nolan at all? Why not just give me the reliquary when I asked for it and cross your fingers?”
“There are only so many chances we can spend. If our next fails…” He takes in a breath and holds it before freeing it again.
“You are our best chance to destroy Tempestra-Innara, by far. But if you fail, so do we. Only divinity can destroy divinity, and what might be used to stand against the Goddess didn’t work in the way we’d hoped.
We wanted you to know the real stakes, and how important your decision was. Which means you needed the truth.”
No pressure. “You’re really on board with all of this?”
“I would have been in Emmaus’s place, if I could have.”
It’s an unpleasant image, Avery’s gentle features contorting into the monstrous. The same thing might happen to me if I agree to Rion’s terms. Of course, there are other kinds of monsters I might become. Might already be.
“When you’ve made a decision,” he says, “light a candle and put it in your window. Then, go to Tempestra-Innara’s shrine.”
“Got it.”
“Lys… I know this is a lot to consider. But you could help us rebuild the entire world.”
Not my goal, or my concern. But Avery looks so damn imploring. “You know, since I learned about the one thing that might help me kill a goddess, I thought I’d have to tear it from the grip of some zealot’s corpse. It wasn’t until you showed up that I considered you might hand it over willingly.”
He gives me a fragile smile. “There’s more places to put faith than in the divine, Lys. You trusted me enough to bring you to where we stand now. Why is it still so hard to believe we’d put our faith in you too?”
Avery’s sentiment catches me like a bludgeon—foolish, unfounded sentiment that it is—the weight of it pressing heavy on my chest. Confidence in my skills as a killer is one thing, but he actually seems to believe that I’m the crucial missing piece in their crusade. And maybe I am.
Or I might be another failure waiting to happen.
We slip back out into the night, climb down to the base of the statue. I scan the area quickly, training and habit taking command, but it’s as shadowed and deserted as when I arrived. “I can find my way back from here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you going to protect me if I’m ambushed?”
Avery smiles at my joke, but what do I know? Maybe the favor of a god means he could, somehow. But he doesn’t argue, only gives me a hopeful nod and returns to the tunnel entrance.
Good. I need some time alone, to think. Because I have no godsdamned idea what to do.
I don’t. And it leaves a slimy pull in my stomach, tightens the muscles in my shoulders so much that my shoulder wound begins to ache again.
My plan made sense when one fact sat as a cornerstone: that Tempestra-Innara was the most powerful force in existence.
But now? That must be technically still true, if Osiron desires my help. They want me. I need the reliquary.
Except… new gods. I’ve known the Flame. What is left of the Storm, Green, Salt, Stone…? What new forms might these new deities take? What, like Osiron seems to think, could they offer?
What could they take away?
Fragments of possibilities roil, some hopeful, others fearsome, too many impossible to label. For all the deaths of a god I have imagined, I can’t seem to picture the new life of one, no matter how important it is to the choice I’ve been given. Maybe if I had weeks, months to consider…
But I do not have the luxury of endless time. Or even enough of the human sort.
And if I say no to one god now, I belong to another forever.