The Kingdom of Gods
Page 90
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“Yes, the same things as gods, on a smaller scale,” Ahad replied, his voice bland.
Glee glanced at him, but I could not read the look on her face before she turned to me. “There is more to this than you know.”
“So tell me!” Ahad I was used to. He kept secrets like I kept toys, and he did it mostly out of spite. Glee hadn’t seemed the type, however.
“You aren’t a child anymore, Sieh. You should learn patience,” Ahad drawled. His smirk faded. “But you’re right; an explanation may be in order since you’re new, both to our organization and to Shadow. This group’s original purpose was merely to police our own behavior and prevent another Interdiction. To a degree, that is still our purpose. Things changed, however, when a few mortals used demons’ blood to express their displeasure at our arrival.” He sighed, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. “This was a few years back. You may recall the time.”
Of course I did. A handful of my siblings had been killed, and Nahadoth had come very close to turning Sky-in-Shadow into a large smoking crater. “Hard to forget.” vo?ack. You m
He nodded. “This group had already organized in order to protect them from us. After that incident, it became clear that we should also work to protect us from them as well.”
“That’s stupid,” I said, frowning around the table. Glee lifted an eyebrow, and I grimaced but ignored her. “The demon was taken care of; the menace has ended. What is there to fear? Any one of you could smash this city, melt down the surrounding mountains, make the Eyeglass’s water burn —”
“No,” said Eyem-sutah. “We cannot. If we do, Yeine will revoke our right to dwell here. You don’t understand, Sieh; you didn’t want to come back after your incarceration ended. I don’t blame you, given circumstances. But would you truly prefer never to visit the mortal realm again?”
“That’s beside the —”
Eyem-sutah shook his head and leaned forward, cutting me off. “Tell me you have never nestled into some mortal woman’s breast to be held, Sieh, and loved unconditionally. Or felt adoration when some mortal man tousles your hair. Tell me they mean nothing to you. Look into my eyes and say it, and I will believe you.”
I could have done it. I am a trickster. I can look into anyone’s eyes and say anything I need to say and be completely believable in the process. Only Nahadoth, who knows me better than any other, and Itempas, who always knows falsehood, have ever been able to catch me out when I truly want to lie.
But even tricksters are not without honor, as Eyem-sutah well knew. He was right, and it would have been wrong of me not to acknowledge that. So I lowered my eyes, and he sat back.
“Out of such debate was this organization born,” Ahad said, with only a hint of dryness. “Not all godlings have chosen to participate, but most adhere to the rules we set, out of mutual self-interest.” He shrugged. “Those who do not, we deal with.”
I propped my chin on my fist, pretending boredom to hide the unease Eyem-sutah’s questions had left in me. “Fine. But how’d you end up in charge? You’re an infant.”
Ahad smiled by curling his upper lip. “No one else wanted the task, after Madding died. Lately, however, our structure has changed. Now I’m merely the organizer, at least until such time as our actual leader chooses to take a more active role.”
“And your leader is …?” Not that I thought he’d tell me.
“Does it matter?”
I considered. “I guess not. But this is all awfully … mortal, don’t you think?” I gestured around at the meeting room, the table and chairs, the tray of bland finger foods. (I restrained my urge to reach for a piece of cheese, out of pride.) “Why not come up with some sinister-sounding name, too, if you’re going to go this far? ‘The Organization’ or something original like that. Whatever, if we’re going to act like a bunch of mortals.”
“We have no need of a name.” Ahad shrugged, then glanced pointedly at Glee. “ad ?‘The OrgAnd our group consists of more than just gods, which requires some concession to mortal convention.” Glee inclined her head to him in silent thanks. “In any case, we dwell in the mortal realm. Should we not at least attempt to think like mortals from time to time, in order to anticipate our adversaries more easily?”
“And then do nothing when we actually discover a threat?” Kitr clenched a fist on the table.
Ahad’s expression went Arameri-neutral. “What, precisely, would you have us do, Kitr? Go and take this mask? We don’t know who created it, or how; they could simply make another. We don’t know what it does. Sieh said this Kahl seemed to be using the Darre to create it. Doesn’t that imply it’s something mortals can touch but that might strike a god dead?”
Glee glanced at him, but I could not read the look on her face before she turned to me. “There is more to this than you know.”
“So tell me!” Ahad I was used to. He kept secrets like I kept toys, and he did it mostly out of spite. Glee hadn’t seemed the type, however.
“You aren’t a child anymore, Sieh. You should learn patience,” Ahad drawled. His smirk faded. “But you’re right; an explanation may be in order since you’re new, both to our organization and to Shadow. This group’s original purpose was merely to police our own behavior and prevent another Interdiction. To a degree, that is still our purpose. Things changed, however, when a few mortals used demons’ blood to express their displeasure at our arrival.” He sighed, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. “This was a few years back. You may recall the time.”
Of course I did. A handful of my siblings had been killed, and Nahadoth had come very close to turning Sky-in-Shadow into a large smoking crater. “Hard to forget.” vo?ack. You m
He nodded. “This group had already organized in order to protect them from us. After that incident, it became clear that we should also work to protect us from them as well.”
“That’s stupid,” I said, frowning around the table. Glee lifted an eyebrow, and I grimaced but ignored her. “The demon was taken care of; the menace has ended. What is there to fear? Any one of you could smash this city, melt down the surrounding mountains, make the Eyeglass’s water burn —”
“No,” said Eyem-sutah. “We cannot. If we do, Yeine will revoke our right to dwell here. You don’t understand, Sieh; you didn’t want to come back after your incarceration ended. I don’t blame you, given circumstances. But would you truly prefer never to visit the mortal realm again?”
“That’s beside the —”
Eyem-sutah shook his head and leaned forward, cutting me off. “Tell me you have never nestled into some mortal woman’s breast to be held, Sieh, and loved unconditionally. Or felt adoration when some mortal man tousles your hair. Tell me they mean nothing to you. Look into my eyes and say it, and I will believe you.”
I could have done it. I am a trickster. I can look into anyone’s eyes and say anything I need to say and be completely believable in the process. Only Nahadoth, who knows me better than any other, and Itempas, who always knows falsehood, have ever been able to catch me out when I truly want to lie.
But even tricksters are not without honor, as Eyem-sutah well knew. He was right, and it would have been wrong of me not to acknowledge that. So I lowered my eyes, and he sat back.
“Out of such debate was this organization born,” Ahad said, with only a hint of dryness. “Not all godlings have chosen to participate, but most adhere to the rules we set, out of mutual self-interest.” He shrugged. “Those who do not, we deal with.”
I propped my chin on my fist, pretending boredom to hide the unease Eyem-sutah’s questions had left in me. “Fine. But how’d you end up in charge? You’re an infant.”
Ahad smiled by curling his upper lip. “No one else wanted the task, after Madding died. Lately, however, our structure has changed. Now I’m merely the organizer, at least until such time as our actual leader chooses to take a more active role.”
“And your leader is …?” Not that I thought he’d tell me.
“Does it matter?”
I considered. “I guess not. But this is all awfully … mortal, don’t you think?” I gestured around at the meeting room, the table and chairs, the tray of bland finger foods. (I restrained my urge to reach for a piece of cheese, out of pride.) “Why not come up with some sinister-sounding name, too, if you’re going to go this far? ‘The Organization’ or something original like that. Whatever, if we’re going to act like a bunch of mortals.”
“We have no need of a name.” Ahad shrugged, then glanced pointedly at Glee. “ad ?‘The OrgAnd our group consists of more than just gods, which requires some concession to mortal convention.” Glee inclined her head to him in silent thanks. “In any case, we dwell in the mortal realm. Should we not at least attempt to think like mortals from time to time, in order to anticipate our adversaries more easily?”
“And then do nothing when we actually discover a threat?” Kitr clenched a fist on the table.
Ahad’s expression went Arameri-neutral. “What, precisely, would you have us do, Kitr? Go and take this mask? We don’t know who created it, or how; they could simply make another. We don’t know what it does. Sieh said this Kahl seemed to be using the Darre to create it. Doesn’t that imply it’s something mortals can touch but that might strike a god dead?”
