Chapter 28 Hakara
Hakara
Langzu – somewhere in the Sanguine Sea
Irael was always an inconstant god, one who flitted from place to place, unable to stay in any one form for long. The only steady thing about him was his heart. Every mortal that he loved, he loved until they died.
To say that Talie’s revelation was like dropping an explosive within our tight-knit group would be an understatement. “Nioanen?” Alifra had hissed, turning away from Thassir until she stood with Dashu. “Nioanen? The elder god?”
Thassir didn’t respond. He didn’t even glower or ruffle his wings. He just stood there like someone had carved his countenance from stone, his gaze fixed somewhere above the door frame. I had no idea what thoughts were going through his head, or even if there were any thoughts.
Dashu’s voice filled the silence. “Hakara. Did you know?” When I’d answered with only a small, sheepish shrug, Dashu had taken Alifra’s hand and led her out of the room. Their footsteps creaked on the deck above us.
“Well.” I’d fixed my gaze on Talie. “You could have, maybe, I don’t know… left that to another time?”
She’d shrugged and swiped a finger through the dregs of her bowl before sucking on it. “They would have found out. At least now they’ve got nowhere to run and no one to tell.”
So much for all that hard emotional work I’d done with Dashu during our sparring conversation.
Both Alifra and Dashu avoided the three of us over the next several days, only returning to the cabin to sleep.
Talie didn’t change back, though she crept above deck during the night to get some air and stretch her legs.
If anyone noticed the extra food we were eating, they didn’t dare confront Thassir with it.
And I watched the horizon, waiting to see signs of the ocean barrier, circling the edges of the ship like a caged tiger.
Truth be told, I was in two minds. I had my own reasons to resent Thassir, despite everything I’d said to Dashu.
It was one thing to be a god, hapless and hopeless on the surface, hunted by others.
So many of them had been born there, had done nothing to deserve the ire of the mortals except rumor and superstition and an old pact between a god and a person no one even really knew.
But Thassir? Nioanen? He’d been there when it had all happened.
Gods below, I needed to get off this ship.
Still nothing on the horizon except the dark sea and some clouds.
Behind me, a few sailors moved, adjusting the sails at Captain Falin’s direction.
I didn’t even know if Lithuas was still out there.
I could feel the bond between me and Thassir.
When I closed my eyes and concentrated, I knew exactly where he was.
Just below my feet. Probably quietly arguing with Talie again.
A voice startled me from my thoughts. “Talie is missing.”
I whirled. Dashu, scratching at the side of his goatee. “We need to find her. Before she causes trouble.”
“Thassir is looking below decks. Alifra and I will look above.”
I made for the steps below deck. She’d been restless, I knew, and I couldn’t blame her.
The cabin was small, and while she made her way above at night in a hooded cloak, when most of the crew slept, the isolation still had to chafe.
She’d been a cat for nearly a hundred years.
Sure, she’d had some company in the form of other shapeshifting gods, but if they’d all been trapped in their forms – well, it was enough to make anyone stir-crazy.
The floorboards shifted beneath my feet.
I wasn’t sure how the crew would react to a god in their midst, if they would notice, how quickly they’d notice.
They’d certainly notice they hadn’t seen her before.
There just weren’t that many people on board.
They’d try and throw us all overboard, wouldn’t they? I was going over that hypothetical fight in my mind when I opened the door to the cabin.
It took me a moment to parse what I was seeing. Thassir crouched, wings hunched low over his back. He held out a hand with a bit of dried meat to a bedraggled-looking calico on one of the support beams over the hammocks. Talie. Or Rumenesca, in this form.
I pressed my palms into my face. “She’s not out and about in her natural form. She just decided to shift.”
“She wanted more freedom, and it was better to shift before we crossed the barrier. We don’t know where the godkillers will be.”
“Lithuas?”
“She’s shifted twice. She’s shifting less now – we may lose her.
Her trail leads up to the barrier, as far as I can tell.
” His shoulders slumped. “I miss my cats,” he said, his low voice almost plaintive.
Rumenesca leaned toward his hand, sniffing the offering at his fingertips.
With delicate teeth, she pulled the meat away, retreating like a lion with its kill.
The soft rumble of her purr filled the small space.
I watched Thassir watching the cat, his black eyes reflecting the room. “Are you done?”
He didn’t respond, reaching out a hand again. Rumenesca hissed, but tolerated him as he stroked the soft fur of her neck with the back of his knuckles. “Please. You know I’m not a cat now. Nioanen, your people need your help.”
He pulled away.
“You cannot keep pretending that you don’t matter.” She took one last glance at him and darted out the door.
The ship swayed. I’d never been on a boat before, and I wasn’t braced. My legs wobbled, sending me careening into Thassir’s side. He stumbled but didn’t fall.
His wing, however, snapped out for balance, hitting the door of the small room and slamming it shut. The lamp guttered.
“Must have hit a swell,” I said when the movement reduced to a gentle swaying again.
His chin lowered, his gaze dropping to where my hand still rested on his arm.
I patted his bicep like it was merely a tree I’d leaned against, and maneuvered around him toward the door, heat rising in my chest. In such a small space, I still brushed against his feathers, no matter how tightly he held them to his sides.
It reminded me of a time, what seemed like a lifetime ago, when I’d blown on those feathers to dry a wound.
I yanked on the handle. It didn’t move. I pulled again, harder.
“I must have hit it a little too hard. Let me.” Thassir’s hand closed over mine, and then opened to allow me to escape. I felt the bond overlap in that brief moment of contact, the stretching feeling disappearing. He pulled on the handle, his teeth bared. Nothing.
I gritted my teeth. “Trapped by a cat. Of course.”
When he turned to look at me, he was too close. I could feel the warmth of his skin, the musky scent of his feathers thick in my nostrils. I remembered how soft his hair was, how it felt to run my fingers through it. “Does this make you feel better?” he said. “Biting at everyone within reach?”
Everything I’d held inside, all the swirling questions, the disbelief, erupted up my throat.
“I’ve been more than fair. I haven’t ignored you the way Alifra and Dashu have.
And you act as though I’m snapping at you with no reason.
You let so many people die. You did nothing about it.
You knew Lithuas and Kluehnn’s plans and you just…
let them carry them out. How could you look into the eyes of all those hopeful Unanointed and know you were letting them go to their deaths? ” It felt like lancing a wound.
“Don’t act as if that bothers you.” He leaned down so our faces were nearly level. “You were content to find your sister and to leave the Unanointed to their fate. To let restoration take Langzu. How are we different?”
I lifted my hands, clenching my fists. “Because you always had more power than I did!”
“Maybe it’s easier to be angry with me than it is to be angry with yourself. Would you really have fought if you were in my position? If you’d watched Rasha die, if you’d watched everyone you cared about die? If you had nothing left to live for except a promise that you wouldn’t fall to despair?”
There, in that small, confined space, the anger in me drained away, leaving a wellspring of something cold and delicate.
This wasn’t just about all those hopeful Unanointed.
He’d looked into my eyes and known I was going to my death, and still he hadn’t told me the truth.
He’d prodded and cajoled, but in the end, he’d let me go.
But he’d also come back.
“You are the worst woman I’ve ever known. You know that? You’re rude. You’re insufferable. You never stop to think before you speak.” His face hovered close to mine. My gaze flitted to his lips, slightly parted, the warmth of his breath against my cheeks.
This close, the bond was quiet in the back of my mind.
I found his eyes again, raven-dark. He’d lived so many lifespans before mine.
He’d seen the rise and fall of realms, of empires.
And here he was, keeping to himself, tending to his cats, his godly aura dulled.
The lamp dimmed briefly, nearly out of oil.
I didn’t dare lean toward him, knowing deep down that he’d lean away.
“Thassir.” I could barely draw breath. “What aren’t you telling me? What are you afraid of?”
His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. Some wall within him slowly shuddering into the ground, finally giving me access. He opened his mouth. “I wish I could tell you. I made a promise, and I—”
The door flung wide with a thud. “Ah, you’re awake.” Alifra stood in the doorway, Dashu at her shoulder.
Thassir pulled away, so swiftly it was as though he’d not been nearly chest to chest with me, his lips a breath away from mine.
“We’re at the anchor point,” Alifra said. “Time to tell our erstwhile captain we’re having a bit of a mutiny.”