The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms (18 page)

I left, goaded by fear and guilt and a creeping, hateful sense that no matter how Arameri I was, it was not enough to help me survive this place. Not Arameri enough by far. That is when I went to Viraine, and that is what led me to the library and the secret of my two souls, and that is how I ended up here, dead.

WE CURED YOUR FATHER,” said Sieh. “That was your mother’s price. In exchange she allowed us to use her unborn child as the vessel for Enefa’s soul.”

I closed my eyes.

He took a deep breath in my silence. “Our souls are no different from yours. We expected Enefa’s to travel onward after she died, in the usual manner. But when Itempas… When Itempas killed Enefa, he kept something. A piece of her.” It was difficult to catch, but he was rushing his words ever so slightly. Distantly I considered soothing him. “Without that piece, all life in the universe would have died. Everything Enefa created—everything except Nahadoth and Itempas himself. It is the last vestige of her power. Mortals call it the Stone of Earth.”

Against my closed eyelids images formed. A small, ugly lump of bruise-dark flesh. An apricotstone. My mother’s silver necklace.

“With the Stone still in this world, the soul was trapped here, too. Without a body it drifted, lost; we only discovered what had happened centuries later. By the time we found it the soul had been battered, eroded, like a sail left on a mast through a storm. The only way to restore it was to house it again in flesh.” He sighed. “I will admit the thought of nurturing Enefa’s soul in the body of an Arameri child was appealing on many levels.”

I nodded. That I could certainly understand.

“If we can restore the soul to health,” Sieh said, “then there is a chance it can be used to free us. The thing that subdues us in this world, trapping us in flesh and binding us to the Arameri, is the Stone. Itempas took it not to preserve life, but so that he could use Enefa’s power against Nahadoth—two of the Three against one. But he could not wield it himself; the Three are all too different from one another. Only Enefa’s children can use Enefa’s power. A godling like me, or a mortal. In the war, it was both—some of my siblings, and one Itempan priestess.”

“Shahar Arameri,” I said.

The bed moved slightly with his nod. Zhakkarn was a silent, watching presence. I drew Zhakkarn’s face with my mind, matching it against the face I’d seen in the library. Zhakkarn’s face was framed like Enefa’s, with the same sharp jaw and high cheekbones. It was in all three of them, I realized, though they didn’t look like siblings or even members of the same race. All of Enefa’s children had kept some feature, some tribute, to their mother’s looks. Kurue had the same frank, dissecting gaze. Sieh’s eyes were the same jade color.

Like mine.

“Shahar Arameri.” Sieh sighed. “As a mortal, she could wield only a fraction of the Stone’s true power. Yet she was the one who struck the deciding blow. Nahadoth would have avenged Enefa that day, if not for her.”

“Nahadoth says you want my life.”

Zhakkarn’s voice, with a hint of irritation: “He told you that?”

Sieh’s voice, equally irritated, though at Zhakkarn: “He can only defy his own nature for so long.”

“Is it true?” I asked.

Sieh was silent for so long that I opened my eyes. He winced at the look on my face; I did not care. I was through with evasions and riddles. I was not Enefa. I did not have to love him.

Zhakkarn unfolded her arms, a subtle threat. “You haven’t agreed to ally with us. You could give this information to Dekarta.”

I gave her the same look that I had Sieh. “Why,” I said, enunciating each word carefully, “would I possibly betray you to him?”

Zhakkarn’s eyes flicked over to Sieh. Sieh smiled, though there was little humor in it. “I told her you’d say that. You do have one advocate among us, Yeine, however little you might believe it.”

I said nothing. Zhakkarn was still glaring at me, and I knew better than to look away from a challenge. It was a pointless challenge on both sides—she would have no choice but to tell me if I commanded her, and I would never earn her trust merely by my words. But my whole world had just been shattered, and I knew of no other way to learn what I needed to know.

“My mother sold me to you,” I said, mostly to Zhakkarn. “She was desperate, and perhaps I would even make the same choice in her position, but she still did it and at the moment I am not feeling well-inclined towards any Arameri. You and your kind are gods; it doesn’t surprise me that you would play with mortal lives like pieces in a game of nikkim. But I expect better of human beings.”

“You were made in our image,” she said coldly.

An unpleasantly astute point.

There were times to fight, and times to retreat. Enefa’s soul inside me changed everything. It made the Arameri my enemies in a far more fundamental way, because Enefa had been Itempas’s enemy and they were his servants. Yet it did not automatically make the Enefadeh my allies. I was not actually Enefa, after all.

Sieh sighed to break the silence. “You need to eat,” he said, and got up. He left my bedroom; I heard the apartment door open and close.

I had slept nearly three days. My angry declaration that I would leave had been a bluff; my hands were shaking, and I did not trust my ability to walk far if I tried. I looked down at my unsteady hand and thought sourly that if the Enefadeh had infected me with a goddess’s soul, the least they could have done was give me a stronger body in the process.

“Sieh loves you,” said Zhakkarn.

I put my hand on the bed so it would no longer shake. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” The sharpness in Zhakkarn’s voice made me look up. She was still angry, and I realized now that it had nothing to do with the alliance. She was angry about how I’d treated Sieh.

“What would you do, if you were me?” I asked. “Surrounded by secrets, with your life dependent on the answers?”

“I would do as you have done.” That surprised me. “I would use every possible advantage I had to gain as much information as I could, and I would not apologize for doing so. But I am not the mother Sieh has missed for so long.”

I could tell already that I was going to become very, very sick of being compared to a goddess.

“Neither am I,” I snapped.

“Sieh knows that. And yet he loves you.” Zhakkarn sighed. “He is a child.”

“He’s older than you, isn’t he?”

“Age means nothing to us. What matters is staying true to one’s nature. Sieh has devoted himself fully to the path of childhood. It is a difficult one.”

I could imagine, though it made no sense to me. Enefa’s soul seemed to bring me no special insight into the tribulations of godhood.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked. I felt weary, though that might’ve been the hunger. “Shall I cuddle him to my breast when he comes back, and tell him everything will be all right? Should I do the same for you?”

“You should not hurt him again,” she said, and vanished.

I gazed at the spot where she had stood for a long while. I was still staring at it when Sieh returned, setting a platter in front of me.

“The servants here don’t ask questions,” he said. “Safer that way. So T’vril didn’t know you’d been unwell until I showed up and asked for food. He’s tearing a strip out of the servants assigned to you right now.”

The platter held a Darren feast. Maash paste and fish rolled in callena leaves, with a side of fire-toasted golden peppers. A shallow boat of serry relish and thin, crisp-curled slices of meat. In my land it would’ve been the heart of a particular species of sloth; this was probably beef. And a true treasure: a whole roasted gran banana. My favorite dessert, though how T’vril had found that out I would never know.

I picked up a leafroll, and my hand trembled with more than hunger.

“Dekarta doesn’t mean for you to win the contest,” Sieh said softly. “That isn’t why he’s brought you here. He intends for you to choose between Relad and Scimina.”

I looked sharply at him, and recalled the conversation I’d overheard between Relad and Scimina in the solarium. Was this what Scimina had meant? “Choose between them?”

“The Arameri ritual of succession. To become the next head of the family, one of the heirs must transfer the master sigil—the mark Dekarta wears—from Dekarta’s brow to his own. Or her own. The master sigil outranks all the rest; whoever wears it has absolute power over us, the rest of the family, and the world.”

“The rest of the family?” I frowned. They had hinted at this before, when they altered my own sigil. “So that’s it. What do the blood sigils really do? Allow Dekarta to read our thoughts? Burn out our brains if we refuse to obey?”

“No, nothing so dramatic. There are some protective spells built in for highbloods, to guard against assassins and the like, but among the family they simply compel loyalty. No one who wears a sigil can act against the interests of the family head. If not for measures like that, Scimina would have found a way to undermine or kill Dekarta long ago.”

The leafroll smelled too good. I bit off a piece, making myself chew slowly as I mulled over Sieh’s words. The fish was strange—some local species, similar to but not the same as the speckled ui usually used. Still good. I was ravenous, but I knew better than to bolt my food after days without.

“The Stone of Earth is used in the succession ritual. Someone—an Arameri, by Itempas’s own decree—must wield its power to transfer the master sigil.”

“An Arameri.” Another puzzle piece slipped into place. “Anyone in Sky can do this? Everyone, down to the lowliest servant?”

Sieh nodded slowly. I noticed he did not blink when he was intent on something. A minor slip.

“Any Arameri, however distant from the Central Family. For just one moment, that person becomes one of the Three.”

It was obvious in his wording. That person. For one moment.

It would be like striking a match, I imagined, having that much power course through mortal flesh. A bright flare, perhaps a few seconds of steady flame. And then…

“Then that person dies,” I said.

Sieh gave me his unchildlike smile. “Yes.”

Clever, so clever, my Arameri foremothers. By forcing all relatives however distant to serve here, they had in place a virtual army of people who could be sacrificed to wield the Stone. Even if each used it only for a moment, the Arameri—the highbloods, at least, who would die last—could still approximate the power of a goddess for a considerable time.

“So Dekarta means for me to be that mortal,” I said. “Why?”

“The head of this clan must have the strength to kill even loved ones.” Sieh shrugged. “It’s easy to sentence a servant to die, but what about a friend? A husband?”

“Relad and Scimina barely knew I was alive before Dekarta brought me here. Why did he choose me?”

“That, only he knows.”

I was growing angry again, but this was a frustrated, directionless sort of anger. I’d thought the Enefadeh had all the answers. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Why in the Maelstrom would you use me, anyhow?” I asked, annoyed. “Doesn’t that put Enefa’s soul too close to the very people who would destroy it if they could?”

Sieh rubbed his nose, abruptly looking abashed. “Ah… well… that was my idea. It’s always easier to hide something right under a person’s nose, you see? And Dekarta’s love for Kinneth was well known; we thought that would make you safe. No one expected him to kill her—certainly not after twenty years. All of us were caught off guard by that.”

I made myself take another bite of the leafroll, chewing on more than its fragrant wrapping. No one had expected my mother’s death. And yet, some part of me—the still-grieving, angry part of me—felt they should have known. They should have warned her. They should have prevented it.

“But listen.” Sieh leaned forward. “The Stone is what’s left of Enefa’s body. Because you possess Enefa’s soul, you can wield the Stone’s power in ways that no one but Enefa herself could do. If you held the Stone, Yeine, you could change the shape of the universe. You could set us free like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“Then die.”

Sieh lowered his eyes, his enthusiasm fading. “That wasn’t the original plan,” he said, “but yes.”

I finished the leafroll and looked at the rest of the plate without enthusiasm. My appetite had vanished. But anger—slow-building and fierce, almost as hot as my anger over my mother’s murder—was beginning to take its place.

“You mean for me to lose the contest, too,” I said softly.

“Well… yes.”

“What will you offer me? If I accept this alliance?”

He grew very still. “Protection for your land through the war that would follow our release. And favor forever after our victory. We keep our vows, Yeine, believe me.”

I believed him. And the eternal blessing of four gods was indeed a powerful temptation. That would guarantee safety and prosperity for Darr, if we could get through this time of trial. The Enefadeh knew my heart well.

But then, they thought they already knew my soul.

“I want that and one thing more,” I said. “I’ll do as you wish, Sieh, even if it costs me my life. Revenge against my mother’s killer is worth that. I’ll take up the Stone and use it to set you free, and die. But not as some humbled, beaten sacrifice.” I glared at him. “I want to win this contest.”

His lovely green eyes went wide.

“Yeine,” he began, “that’s impossible. Dekarta and Relad and Scimina… they’re all against you. You haven’t got a chance.”

“You’re the instigator of this whole plot, aren’t you? Surely the god of mischief can think of a way.”

“Mischief, not politics!”

“You should go and tell the others my terms.” I made myself pick up the fork and eat some relish.

Sieh stared at me, then finally let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t believe this. You’re crazier than Naha.” He got to his feet and rubbed a hand over his hair. “You—gods.” He seemed not to notice the strangeness of his oath. “I’ll talk to them.”

I inclined my head formally. “I shall await your answer.”

Muttering in his strange language, Sieh summoned his yellow ball and left through the bedroom wall.