The Kingdom of Gods

Ramina glared at me. “Is tact simply not in your nature, or are you this offensive on purpose?”

“On purpose. But remember that incest isn’t exactly unknown to gods.”

He crossed his legs, which might have been defensiveness or nonchalance. “It was the politic solution. She needed someone she could trust. And we are only half siblings, after all.” He shrugged, then eyed me. “Shahar and Dekarta don’t know.”

“Shahar, you mean. Who’s Deka’s father?”

“I am.” When I laughed, his jaw tightened. “The scriveners were most careful in their tests, Lord Sieh. Believe me. He and Shahar are full siblings, as Amn as I am.”

“Impossible. Or you aren’t as Amn as you think.”

He bristled, elegantly. “I can trace my lineage unbroken back to the first Shahar, Lord Sieh, with no taint of lesser races at any point. The problem, however, is Remath. Her half-Ken grandfather, for one …” He shuddered dramatically. “I suppose we’re lucky the children didn’t turn up redheads on top of everything else. But that wasn’t the only problem.”

“His soul,” I said softly, thinking of Deka’s smile, still shy even after I’d threatened to kill him. “He is a child of earth and dappled shadows, not the bright harsh light of day.”

Ramina looked at me oddly, but I was tired of adapting myself to mortals’ comfort. “If by that you mean he’s too gentle … well, so is Shahar, really. But she at least looks the part.”

“When will he be allowed to return?”

“In theory? When his training is complete, two years from now. In actuality?” Ramina shrugged. “Perhaps never.”

I frowned at this, folding my arms and resting my chin on them. With a heavy sigh, Ramina got to his feet as well. I thought he would leave and was glad for it; I was tired of plodding mortal minds and convoluted mortal relationships. But he stopped at the top of the stairwell, gazing at me for a long moment.

“If you won’t help the scriveners find the source of these attacks,” he said, “will you at least agree to protect Shahar? I feel certain she will be a target for our enemies — or those among our relatives who may use the attacks as a cover for their own plots.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. “She’s my friend, you fool.”

He seemed annoyed, probably because of the “you fool.”

“What does that —” He paused, then sighed. “No, I should be grateful. The one thing we Arameri have always lacked is the gods’ friendship. If Shahar has managed to win yours … well, perhaps she has a better chance of surviving to inherit than I’d first thought.”

With that, Ramina left. I still didn’t like him.

6

I sent a letter to my love

And on the way I dropped it,

A little puppy picked it up

And put it in his pocket.

It isn’t you,

It isn’t you,

But it is you.

Sky is boredom. That was the thing I had hated the most about it, back when I’d been a slave. It is a massive palace, each spire of which could house a village; its chambers contain dozens of entertainments. All of these become tedious to the point of torment after two thousand years. Hells, after twenty.

It was quickly becoming obvious that I would not be able to endure Sky for much longer. Which was fine; I needed to be out in the world anyhow, searching for the means to cure myself, if such a thing existed in the mortal realm. But Sky was a necessary staging ground for my efforts at life, allowing me relative safety and comfort in which to consider important logistical questions. Where would I live when I left? How would I live, if my magic would soon desert me? I had no resources, no particular skills, no connections in mortal society. The mortal realm could be dangerous, 0ems’ tlespecially given my new vulnerability. I needed a plan, to face it.

(The irony of my situation did not escape me; it was the nature of all mortal adolescents to experience such anxiety at the prospect of leaving their childhood home for the harsh adult world. Knowing this did not make me feel better.)

I had come to no conclusion by the afternoon, but since I guessed that Shahar might have gotten over her fury with me by this point, I went in search of her.

When I walked into Shahar’s quarters, I found her surrounded by three servants who seemed to be in the middle of dressing her. As I appeared in the parlor doorway, she turned around so fast that her half-done hair whipped loose; I saw a flash of dismay cross one servant’s face before the woman masked it.