Chapter Twelve #2
I leave the house and go out to the cliffs nearby in a spot where our home is hidden from view.
I do not know why it feels important to protect it from this angry soul, but I do this almost reflexively.
On this expanse of lichen-crusted rock there’s nothing to see but stone and sea and one large statue looming over us.
A statue still sharp and unworn by the wind.
She appears wise and strong with a bladelike nose and angry eyes, and she wears a shapeless robe as if femininity means nothing to her. I find the mood suits me well.
I repeat my actions from the last time, wiping my cheeks and then holding the pearl in my wet fist, and just like before, he emerges in a wisp of mist from a hot pearl.
He’s large, towering over me. Had he a man’s legs he’d be no taller than Oke, but his octopus lower half takes up a lot of space and it undulates and shifts, reminding me that I once saw an octopus squeeze through the circle formed of its keeper’s forefinger and thumb. I shudder and he sneers.
“Here to bargain after all? What will you ask for, mortal woman? Will it be riches? Love? A crown?”
He’s a study in contrasts, his upper half that of a beautiful but oddly light-skinned man, his face set with fine features and black hair.
He has no beard or even the shadow of one.
Were it not for the fact that he has six fluctuating legs, I would almost find him attractive.
That, and the fact he is dead—a soul only.
Or at least, I assume this to be the case.
One thing I know for certain. I must handle my dealings with this being with great care. If Okeanos would betray me, then this creature would betray me even more quickly given the chance. My goals are not safe with him.
“I had a crown once, for all the good it did me,” I say carefully. “Who are you, exactly?”
“Who am I?” He darts like a striking snake, suddenly right in front of me, face an inch from mine. I control my features as if I see this kind of behavior every day. I wish—suddenly—that I’d brought a weapon with me. Or even a fishing net.
“You draw me forth beneath a statue that I made to honor the woman I killed so I might take her place and you have the gall to ask who I am? I am Vesuvius, God of the Sea, just as this was Chaolic, goddess before me.”
I consider this. “All these statues are keepers of this island.”
If the sound he makes is a laugh, I find it more chilling than welcoming. “Certainly. Keepers. That’s what the gods are.”
“The gods are not immortal, then?” I ask. A painful hope lights sharply in my chest.
“Gods are not easy to kill, mortal. Nor do they suffer age, wounds, illness, or other trials of mortal life, so we call ourselves immortal, for it is practically so.”
He leans against the statue and studies a detail in how her hand is carved as if he hardly cares about our conversation.
“But you are dead.”
“Mmm.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but I believe it is a yes.
“And you killed a god,” I press.
He tips his head as if he allows a point to me.
“You killed this god,” I say, gesturing toward the statue. Getting answers from him is like dislodging a barbed hook from a fish’s mouth.
“I did.”
“How?” I ask calmly.
“How, she asks,” he says, and he laughs another of those grim laughs. “As if I will just tell you how to slay a god and take from him his power. If you want that, you’ll bargain for it, little mortal.”
I saunter a short ways away, collecting my thoughts. He practically thrums with annoyance as he waits for me.
“Are you trapped in that pearl?” I ask him. He does not answer, merely stares at me malevolently. I do not like the glitter in his eye. He sees an opportunity in me and I do not know what it is.
I tap my chin, thinking. I would prefer to know the rules of his imprisonment, but I do not think he will tell me unless it benefits him.
I would prefer to know more about who offers me a bargain.
I am terribly aware that this creature wishes to twist me to his own ends and that they may very well diverge from mine.
But there is no one else who can tell me how to kill a god.
And I know now that I must. Nothing else will satisfy the burning feeling that presses the air from my lungs moment by moment.
“What would you have in return for that knowledge?” I ask carefully.
He smiles, a terrible, cunning smile. I feel he is trapping me, but I can’t see how.
“In return for the knowledge of how to kill a god?” he states carefully.
“And an understanding of where I might reach the gods in order to do this deed,” I add. After all, I have no idea where to find Okeanos since he left me here alone and I will need to find him if I am to kill him.
“Just any god or one in particular?”
This time I don’t answer. This is not my first negotiation. He is fishing for useful information to use against me.
“The night after tomorrow will see the start of the Resurgence. All the gods will attend,” he says with a second tip of his head. “There? See? I have given half of what you want for free. Bargain with me and I will tell you how to get there and how to kill a god and keep him dead.”
I swallow. “I have heard of this Resurgence. I am told I must throw a finger into the sea to attend.”
He barks a laugh. “Someone doesn’t like you very much, mortal. Whose sandal are you sticking to, hmm?”
I shake my head. I am not so much a fool as to give him more information than he needs. He shrugs, acknowledging that, and peers at me for a long moment.
“You can certainly buy your way with blood and sacrifice. But there are other ways. Did you marry recently?” he asks with a feigned casualness that doesn’t suit him at all.
“I did,” I say warily. “I married a fisherman.”
He nods, face blank. “Have you been much in the sea since then?”
I shrug, giving him no more than he is giving me.
He nods again, leaning against the rough statue with one elbow and looking out to sea.
“These are my terms, then,” he says, and his voice takes a firmer tone.
“I’ll give you a way to get to the Resurgence without losing a finger and I will tell you how to kill a god.
In return, you will kill the one I want dead.
If you kill more, I care not. Only find for me the vengeance my heart longs for and our bargain will be complete. ”
I clench my jaw. I don’t like the little voice in the back of my head telling me that I ought not to work with this creature. And also that I probably shouldn’t be agreeing to murder two gods. But shall I really say no to the only one who can give me what I’m asking for?
“If you are really the soul of a dead god, why don’t you do this yourself?” I ask him, and he raises an eyebrow.
He shakes his hands and they ripple in the light. “I lost my corporeal form with my death, though my soul is trapped in that bauble you hold. I can’t kill a god. You’ll have to be my hands for me.”
“What god would you have me kill?” I ask, finally driving to the heart of the matter.
“He who put me in this pearl. He who ruined everything,” he says, stalking forward on his rippling tentacles. “Okeanos.”
I shiver, but I keep my face straight. How is it that this is so convenient for me? There must be a sting in all this honey. But I cannot divine it.
“The sea god is powerful,” I hedge, trying to keep my eyes and face blank. “It will be no easy task. What if I fail in doing it?”
He smiles like he was expecting this. He caresses each word of his reply with his tongue like he is savoring them.
“If you fail, you will find the tides turn against you, the seas will forever spit you out, the waves drag down any craft you set out in. She will be your enemy in every way and drown you and yours forever. You say you wore a crown? Then that means your people, too, for their fate is bound up with yours.”
“Then why bargain with you at all?” I ask coolly.
“To get what you want,” he says as if I am a fool to even ask. “Or are there other dead gods offering you the means and opportunity to slay the divine?”
I take a long moment to think about this and he does not disturb my silence.
I try to think logically. He is certainly hiding things from me, and given the chance he will absolutely work against me, will even kill me if he can.
But he is right. There is no one else I can work with to get what I need.
I try to weigh out the consequences against the necessity, but I’m looking at the green tossing sea and all I can see is Delarte streaked in blood.
All I can see is Lieve sinking below the waves.
All I can see is mad Turbote with his wild eyes and stories of killing innocent girls.
And it hardly takes any effort at all to say, “I will kill Okeanos, only tell me how it may be accomplished.”
He snorts. “It’s easy enough if you know the trick of it. You’ll need to kill him with the weapon of a god.”
I don’t know if I’m more stunned or more furious at this. “Easy?”
“Once you’re at the Resurgence and surrounded by gods, grab one of their weapons.
They’ll keep them close, but there are ways that mortals might come close to the gods.
Let one of them make you their pet if you must. And when you have it, you’ll slay him like you might slay any mortal.
The weapon of a god will part his flesh and make him as easy to kill as any man.
Then—and do not forget this step—you will reach into the wound and draw out the pearl you find there and keep it.
He will be entrapped as I am now. He will be at your service for all time.
And your bargain with me will be fulfilled. ”
“You make it sound so simple,” I say wryly.
He shrugs. “It is simple. In theory. It’s the practice that’s such a challenge.”
“I should say so,” I say, my lip twisting without meaning to, but my distaste only makes him mock me all the more.
“Look offended all you like, lady. You are the one who came to bargain with me. And I’ve already done as I agreed. Now you must do as you have promised. Kill Okeanos. Take his pearl. Do it swiftly and with a sure hand.”
“You still haven’t shown me how to get to this Resurgence,” I remind him.
“Put your feet in the sea, fix the place you wish to go in your mind as fully as possible. Do this.” Here, he twists his hand as if he is gripping a bowl but his fingers are shaped differently than I have seen before. I try to replicate the pattern. “You will be transported.”
“Explain that more fully,” I say firmly.
“This mortal plane is all you know. But the gods dwell on many planes layered over one another as a wet cloth hugs the ground it’s set upon.
You can shift between these planes and to different locations.
There’s a trick to it—if you know it, you can go anywhere you like unless a god bars you from it. ”
I swallow against a dry throat. That I, a once-queen and definitely a mortal woman, would think I could mingle among gods and even kill one is out of the realm of reason.
As if I am slipping my own moorings. But think, I remind myself, your life is already madness.
Why fight against the current, when you can work with it to get what you want?
He slides across the rock over to the statue and leans against it again, sunning himself.
“Make a shape like this.” He holds up his palm, fingers spread wide as if he cups a bowl, but the first two are crossed and I notice the others are subtly shaped.
I imitate him. “You’ll give it a one-quarter turn, at a speed of about one heartbeat.
Flick your thumb at the end. And while you do it, tell the sea you belong to him and will not stand in his way and think of the Hall of the Gods.
Surely you’ve heard of it in story and song. ”
“And if my imagination does not suffice?” I ask dryly.
“It won’t matter. Thinking of it is what counts.” He tilts his head to the side and closes his eyes for a moment as if he is counting, and when he opens his eyes, he is smiling that wicked smile again. “It’s definitely in two nights. The Resurgence. You’ve made your bargain just in time.”
I swallow down a lump in my throat. I’ve made a bargain. With what is inarguably a malevolent spirit. And now I must do as I have said I would and slay a god.
“I need a plan,” I say. “To go in with no plan feels foolhardy.”
“What do you want, lady?” He turns his sharp gaze on me, flicking out two tentacles in a way that makes me think he’s mocking me.
“Do you want the gods to send you a map of where they will sit? Do you want an engraved invitation? Shall they line up and let you choose from their weapons and then place their heads upon the table so you may sever them one by one? Do you think Incanus had a plan when he slew the dragon? How about Carthinus when he lopped off the five heads of the Leopard of Neb? Heroes don’t have plans.
They have intestinal fortitude, a willingness to think on their feet, and enough motivation to dive in and do what they must. You’ll be going in blindfolded like any other hero.
Use your brain if you have one. Adapt. Don’t mewl to me about a plan.
You cannot possibly know what you face until you arrive—and neither can I.
But you’ve made your bargain with me for good or for ill and you owe me the death of one god whether you like it or not. ”
He glances at me curiously, as if weighing how his words have taken me, and then shrugs again and leaps. At first, I think he’s attacking me and it’s only when he somehow leaps back into the pearl that I realize he simply grew bored of me and left.
“Well, then,” I say to an empty rock and a harsh-carved woman. “Steal a weapon. Kill a god. Take his pearl.”
This list is as ridiculous as the one Oke has written.
His name makes something squeeze inside my chest. For it is he whom I will be destroying if I really do this. When I do it.
I pause, nausea rolling over me in waves, my brow hot and suddenly slick.
“You can do this, Coralys,” I tell myself. “You must do this.”
Killing a god would constitute a great act of power. It makes sense that it terrifies me and feels impossible. Anything less would never work at all.