Deeplight

by Frances Hardinge

“You look angry and upset,” said Quest, watching Hark in his usual shrewd way. “Are you grieving for the innocents lost? Or are you still thinking of the Lady? She killed thousands, mostly on whims. The island of Twice is so named because she rose up on two different occasions to devour all its inhabitants. Was she more tragic than they were?” Hark felt himself redden. It was true: Quest’s betrayal of the Lady still stung him to the core. He realized that he had been thinking as though her pain, loneliness, and death were somehow bigger and more important than anyone else’s. Hypnotic, Quest had called the gods. Even though Hark had never seen the Lady in life, he had been hypnotized by the sinuous allure of the stories. What was she, though, when you dissected the thought of her? “You must not love them,” said Quest gently. “It is easy to love power, because power tells you it is majesty and beauty and greatness. But the gods were monsters. Do not even love their memory. Hate me if you like for the human deaths I caused. I tried to avoid them, but I knew the risks. I am not a good man. But the gods are dead.”