Chapter 62 Lithuas
Lithuas
Langzu – Ruzhi
The city of Ruzhi smelled of pine sap and the crispness of sweet persimmons.
Lithuas climbed the sloping street before her, stopping every so often to lean heavily on a cane.
Some shapeshifters only took on the appearance of the shape they inhabited, but in this way, Lithuas and Irael differed greatly.
Lithuas inhabited a shape fully, with all of its foibles and aches.
Irael flitted from shape to shape like a dream, each more fantastical than the last.
Which made Lithuas a much better assassin than Irael would ever be.
She could feel the world changing along with her, day by day, with every god she hunted and killed. She’d seen Kluehnn’s experiments in the depths of Unterra. Soon, he would shatter the world and bring forth his own children. Children he could use to hunt gods on his own.
He would still need her. She lifted her gaze to the peak of the mountains.
Ruzhi lay nestled in a valley between two of them, benefiting from the way the morning mists were trapped by the peaks, the moisture rolling down to gather below.
This place wasn’t safe from the changes wrought on the surface, though the three clans that had their main estates here thought themselves inured.
She could see, when she squinted, the future of this city.
When some of the pine trees died, when rain became a deluge, washing mud down the sides of the mountain.
They’d have to rebuild, again and again.
The grand temple, the castles, the history – these things would fall, the meaning behind them lost. They’d replace the temple with a nave for Kluehnn, each iteration of their castles less grand and less ornate, not feeling they had another choice as they waited for his promised restoration.
Her cane thumped against the stones of the street as the city woke. Shutters above her were thrown open, the faded red-painted plaster of the buildings glowing crimson by the light of the rising sun, dark brown roof tiles glinting. Jewel of Langzu, they called it.
She’d heard Ayaz was here, peddling the gemstones that were one of the few remnants of the Numinars.
She’d never really understood the Cutter, his obsession with clean lines and efficiency.
Likely he’d say the same of her, that her focus on change above all else was rather messy.
But that was as far as their disagreements went; they quickly turned to other matters without ever coming to blows.
Not like Barexi, whose desire to hold on to every artifact, no matter how cluttered that made his library, was anathema to Ayaz.
Barexi – whom she’d killed, watching his blood spill onto the ground.
Desperation drove Lithuas forward, made her forget, for a moment, that she didn’t just appear as an old woman – she was one.
A man with a cart laden with peaches stopped as she stumbled, seizing her arm before she could fall. “Careful, grandmother,” he said. “Rushing may save you time, but dying spends it all at once.”
It was an old saying, so old that even Lithuas wasn’t sure where it had originated from.
She nodded her head to the young man and pulled away, afraid that if she spoke, she’d tell him that she wasn’t afraid of dying.
It was others dying she was afraid of. She still believed in much of what Kluehnn wanted to accomplish, in restoration and changing the world.
But the murder of the gods – she didn’t want this.
Her knees ached. She hadn’t changed form since Bian, knowing that if she did, Ayaz would sense her coming.
She’d gathered all the information she’d needed there, flitting from room to room as a fly, listening to conversations and piecing things together.
He’d be at the market, seemingly selling pearl and tortoiseshell combs.
And if one asked the right questions, he’d duck into a nearby tea shop and bring out his rarer wares.
She wasn’t sure how long he’d stay in Ruzhi before he moved on.
The street widened and leveled, stalls clinging to the sides of buildings, spilling over into alleys, where customers had to step over refuse to reach the wares they wanted.
She bought a few persimmons, partially so she’d look just like someone browsing the wares, and partially because the taste reminded her of the tintean berries in Unterra – which she desperately missed.
Plucking one from her bag to bite into, she turned into an alley. Light filtered down from the narrow gap between the roof tiles above; condensation born of the morning mists dripped every so often from the bottoms of the gutters, darkening the stones at her feet.
Ayaz was there, and her rapid heartbeat calmed.
If she hadn’t known him over all the long centuries, she might not have recognized him.
He’d stripped the scales from his face, the skin beneath pale and slightly pockmarked.
Here, in the darkness of the alley, his eyes looked golden brown rather than gold, his white hair with its streaks of black pulled into a tail.
Another man sat behind the stall, hunched on his stool, carving a fresh new comb out of dark wood.
She slowed to look at the combs, eating her persimmon as she browsed.
She picked up one with her face carved at the top – the face she usually wore.
“People these days do not appreciate the old gods.” Her voice was thin and reedy.
She set the comb back down, choosing a mother-of pearl one with the eye of Kluehnn etched onto its surface.
“The new religion is catching. Soon it may be all there is.”
Ayaz cocked his head at her, and she saw the serpent in him considering whether he could swallow his prey. He wore a voluminous robe; she wasn’t sure if his tail was lashing beneath it. “Is that what you want, grandmother?”
She tossed the comb back onto the table. “He promises magic on a grand scale, but there is a part of me that would miss the more subtle magic of the elder gods.” She shook her head, really feeling the role she’d chosen. “I am too old for all this change.”
Ayaz’s hands came together and he bowed, followed it with a nod. “Ah, I know how you feel.”
Lithuas let the silence hang, hoping he’d follow through. Look how harmless she was, just an elderly woman with a cane. And see? She’d had the money to buy a whole bag of persimmons. She took a last bite of the one in her hand before tossing the stem aside. Her gaze lingered on the combs.
He cleared his throat. “I may have just the thing for you, if you’ll step into this shop. Lei, watch the stall for a moment.”
“Well, you have my curiosity.” She followed him down the step.
He had to duck to get through the side door, but he held it open as she passed into the tiny space of the tea shop.
The proprietor glanced back from his spot at the front counter and gave Ayaz a brief nod of acknowledgment. They must have had an arrangement.
Lithuas tried not to let her gaze wander too much, to the herbs hanging from the ceiling and gathered into small clay jars.
It smelled wonderful in here. Tea was one of the few things she felt mortals actually got right, and that made her feel a bit fonder toward them than she might have otherwise.
To most mortals in Ruzhi, this was just another tea shop. To her, it was a treasury.
Ayaz lifted the flap of his satchel, removed a folded handkerchief, and held it before her.
“The Numinars may be gone, but there are pieces of them left behind, deep underground.” Carefully, as though he were uncovering the delicate carapace of an insect, he unfolded the handkerchief.
A glow emanated from within, and Lithuas thought, with an ache, of the brightness of a Numinar on the places where the bark had worn smooth.
She would never see the grandness of those broad trees again on the surface.
This was the problem with change – it always meant leaving things behind.
A rough, uncut gemstone lay on the cloth, cupped in Ayaz’s hand.
A soft red light emanated from it. “The roots of the Numinars emit sap, a sap the gods drank to help sustain their powers. While the roots may have mostly rotted, the sap has remained, crystallizing into these stones that still have magical properties.”
With her gaze fixed on the stone, all she could think about was how cleanly and quickly Ayaz had turned to this huckster lifestyle from one of godly decadence. He might not have been the Bringer of Change, but he was more smoothly adaptable than she’d given him credit for.
She turned to the proprietor of the shop. “Leave us.”
“This is my shop, and—”
Lithuas didn’t raise her voice or turn from Ayaz. “Leave us if you value your life.” She let her tone fall into her normal register, and something about it must have stirred the hairs on the back of the man’s neck, because she heard the front door open and close.
Ayaz was looking at her with narrowed eyes, knowing something wasn’t quite right but not sure what that was.
She grabbed his wrist before he could reach for his knife. “I am here to warn you,” she said.
“What a funny way to do things.” His hand snapped shut around the gem. “Warn me and then kill me. What use is the warning, then?”
“If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it already. I could have taken you unawares.”
“The way you did Barexi?”
She hadn’t even used subterfuge with Barexi. She’d only stated that she wanted to talk, and Barexi – who’d never had a deceitful bone in his body – had believed her. One swift move, and her sword had jutted from his chest, the light fading from his eyes. Only a god could kill another god.
Though Kluehnn was working on changing that. With her help.
Ayaz dropped the gem to the floor and pulled his knife free. He was quick, but Lithuas was quicker. She took a step away, her old woman’s form melting into her true shape, silver hair flowing down her back, sword in hand. “Please, we both know we’re not evenly matched,” she huffed out.
His gaze flicked to the door.
“Don’t even try it.”
He shrugged his shoulders, though he didn’t sheathe the knife. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. What have you come to warn me about?”
She couldn’t fight back against Kluehnn.
She had come to accept that. If she did, she would die and all the events she’d set in motion would continue as though she were still alive.
But this way, by still working with him, she could enact the changes she wanted and could, perhaps, save some people in the meantime.
“He has sent me to kill the gods, but he is developing a way to kill them without a god’s help.
” Or without further help. Her wrist ached in response to the memory of a blade parting her skin, the blood dripping down her hand, the intent to kill throbbing with every beat of her heart.
She lifted her blade so the point was level with Ayaz’s chin.
“Here are your options. You can fight me now, and lose.”
“Or?” He didn’t look sad, the way Velenor had. His gaze was merely considering, calculating.
“Or you go into hiding. You don’t interfere with my work or Kluehnn’s. I’ll tell him that you’re dead.”
“Why spare me? Did you spare others?”
“I didn’t have the chance.” A lie, but better that Velenor didn’t know Lithuas was sparing her brethren. Better to keep them isolated, for their sake and for hers.
The end of his golden tail swung out from beneath his robe. “It can be hard for a god to hide.”
“Cut off your tail. You can even keep it if you really think you’ll have use of it again one day. Remove the rest of your scales. Continue selling the sad remains of the Numinars, if that’s what you want to do.”
He sheathed his knife then, steepling his fingers and placing them beneath his chin.
She didn’t lower her guard. She knew Ayaz could be tricky.
“Well I appreciate the warning,” he said.
A deep breath in and then out. “So. You said we cannot interfere with your work or Kluehnn’s.
What of the mortals? Am I allowed to get involved in their affairs? ”
Ah. She sheathed her sword. Lithuas understood the need for an outlet. This was Ayaz, though. Hopefully she would not regret this. “Do as you will with them.”