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All that mattered was the story. The myths that made gods, brought them to life in their shrines. Stories bind hope and love to make it faith.
She wanted to go home. See Yatho and Telle and tell them all that had happened, that she had got her revenge. She wanted to wrap her arms around Inara and protect her from the world, and if that included Skedi so be it. She wanted to fuck some common sense into Elo before he made any more stupid mistakes without her to see them right. He’d appreciate that, she thought, as long as he didn’t get all romantic. It felt as if Osidisen had brought her here just to spite her.
Why? She had never understood it, why humans chose, again and again, gods who abused their love, and demanded their pain. Were gods and humans just as bad as each other?
So many truths too, she said. Some truths are too bright to look at directly, that is why they couch them in paper.
‘When I was young,’ she continued, ‘my family thought me a boy until I told them I was a woman. They were joyous, but I did not find joy. My body didn’t . . . feel right. The god of new beginnings helped me accept what I wanted to keep and change what I wanted to change. Without her, the powders I needed would have cost a small fortune.’ She looked up at the manor. ‘Gods balance our access to power. They belong to everyone, not just the wealthy. Like our lands belong to everyone, not just the king.’
It isn’t wise to swing dicks against a man whose cock is crowned with gold. It would hurt.’
‘Beloris, you ungrateful wretch,’ he said. ‘If you love the king so much tell him I expect him to halve his force and send a herald with his intentions before entering Yether lands. And wrap it in as much grovelling as you see fit.’ He drew himself up proudly, his dark brows furrowed. ‘When you return, I hope you have developed a spine and with it a mote of sense. We once were kings too. We fought for this jewel, this city, and we allowed it to adorn the crown of Middren. We do not show our bellies to tyrants.’
‘It’s not the weapon,’ he said, and allowed himself a smirk. ‘It’s how you use it.’ A few of the rebels snickered, though Naia did not look impressed. She muttered something that sounded very much like ‘Gods save us from bloody men.’
No wonder humans made gods: everything they desired and feared just spilled out of them, staining everything they touched.
Telle cried out and flew to her. Yatho let out a small ‘oof’, but she wrapped her arms around Telle, holding her tightly as tears of relief flooded her eyes. Telle buried her face in her neck, her hands going around her waist, and their bodies knotted so close they looked like joined branches of a vine. They didn’t speak. Words didn’t seem to matter.
‘He had my heart and lost it,’ said Elo calmly. ‘My head is not on offer.’
‘Why does it always come to this?’ she said. ‘That power changes, and knowledge burns?’
Knowledge can bring pain in place of ignorance, terror in place of hope. Whatever place your strength has come from, it is still yours. You choose what to do with it.
‘That was wrong,’ he pleaded. ‘What is this but wrong as well?’ Inara stepped back. The water rose beside them, it had shape now. A long-limbed dog, shaggy furred and grimy. Daefer. ‘Stay then,’ she said in a whisper. ‘No . . . Ina, you’re my home.’ ‘You’re not mine.’
THIS FUCKING CUUUUUUUUNT
At last, Kissen understood, her suspicion hardening into certainty. Why Lessa Craier had hidden her daughter. Why Ina knew nothing of her father. Why she had fought against the king. It was for Inara’s sake. Her father was a god.
Well, at least she still had her tongue. She hoped she would get the chance to tell Telle that not being able to read had finally come in handy.
Nothing was more frightening than a smart woman with a vendetta and a plan.
