The Raven Tower

by Ann Leckie

knew to be patient. She knew from experience, hers and her predecessors’, that it could take a very long time to teach language to a god.

Still, it was that agreement over driftwood, and that coalition, that drew me into Ard Vusktia’s war against the Raven of Iraden.

the remaining inhabitants of the Raven’s house woke to find dozens of people sitting outside their gate, naked and smeared with ash. This might not seem strange to you. You are, after all, Iradeni, and so you know what a serious act this was—a public accusation designed to cast shame and disrepute on its target. But I must admit, it seems odd to me. No one in the far north would sit naked outside the door of someone who had wronged them and expect any result besides hypothermia. And no one sitting shivering in front of someone’s house would be taken as a serious threat. But in Iraden, as in the lands farther to the southwest, people in authority—kings, lords, wealthy landowners—will sometimes go to impressive lengths to appease complainants willing to do this, in order to prevent damage to their reputation and standing. It is, if not a common sight, a well-known and effective way to shame someone who has dealt unjustly with another. And so accordingly

And according to the story I have heard, it began very simply: once two or three Leases had been paid, the Raven simply stated that henceforth no ship or boat would safely traverse the strait without the approval of the Raven of Iraden.

But, like the account of the rest of these events, I had it from the Myriad herself.

Is the myriad lying to the narator to manipulate her?

“Would it matter if I were?” I asked. “Am I an ally, or a resource for you to exploit?” “I do not see a meaningful difference between the two,”

And saw me. That is to say, you saw a massive black stone with feathery white veins.

seems to me that there are potential dangers for you in that. What if someone besides the gods of Ard Vusktia turns you? Or what if one of your own attendants makes some disastrous request?” “For the most part,” I replied, “I suspect my attendants would wish for rest, or better-tasting food.” And an end to the war, but nearly everyone here was wishing for that, and I was already working toward that end. Well, the woman with part of one arm missing had wished for a certain kind of cheese with honey, a wish that it had taken me some days to fulfill without raising the suspicions of the gods of the city. Still, fulfilling it had been costly, and I’d warned Siat to tell my other attendants that such wishes must be used carefully, and sparingly. But tricky to fulfill as it had been, I didn’t begrudge it—the woman had divided the treat into four portions and shared it with the other attendants, and I was surprised at how gratified I was by their enjoyment of it.

“I have been thinking about this question,” read Mawat. “What is a name? Where do names come from? What if the sounds that make the word the Raven in Iradeni make some other meaning in another language, and that meaning is not what I am? What if sometimes I am called the Raven but sometimes something else? Is there one essential name for anything? How can I truthfully answer such a question with merely yes or no?” He looked at you. “Eolo, have you been interrogating the god?”

after the gods themselves have died. But no matter. I spoke the deaths of all the gods who fought for Ard Vusktia, and