The Broken Kingdoms
Page 100
“You want to use me as the Lights did,” I said, my voice shaking. “You want me to kill gods for you.”
“Only if they force us to,” the Arameri said. Then, to my greater shock, he knelt in front of me.
“It will not be slavery,” he said, and his voice was gentle. Kind. “That time of our history is done. We will pay you as we do any of the scriveners or soldiers who fight for us. Provide you housing, protection. All we ask is that you give some of your blood to us—and that you allow our scriveners to place a mark upon your body. I will not lie to you about this mark’s purpose, Eru Shoth: it is a leash. Through it we will know whenever your blood has been shed in sufficient quantity to be a danger. We will know your location in the event of another kidnapping, or if you attempt to flee. And with this mark, we will be able to kill you if necessary—quickly, painlessly, and thoroughly, from any distance. Your body will turn to ash so that no one else will be able to use its… unique properties.” He sighed, his voice full of compassion. “It will not be slavery, but neither will you be wholly free. The choice is yours.”
I was so tired. So very tired of all of this. “Choice?” I asked. My voice sounded dull to my own ears. “Life on a leash or death? That’s your choice?”
“I’m being generous even to offer, Eru Shoth.” He reached up then, put a hand on my shoulder. I thought he meant to be reassuring. “I could easily force you to do as I please.”
Like the New Lights did, I considered saying, but there was no need for that. He knew precisely what a hellish bargain he’d offered me. The Arameri got what they wanted either way; if I chose death, they would take what blood they could from my body and store it against future need. And if I lived… I almost laughed as it occurred to me. They would want me to have children, wouldn’t they? Perhaps the Shoths would become a shadow of the Arameri: privileged, protected, our specialness permanently marked upon our bodies. Never again to live a normal life.
I opened my mouth to tell him no, that I would not accept the life he offered. Then I remembered: I had already promised my life to another.
That would be better, I decided. At least with Shiny I would die on my own terms.
“I’d… like some time to think about it,” I heard myself say, as from a distance.
“Of course,” said the Lord Arameri. He rose, letting go of me. “You may remain as our guest for another day. By tomorrow evening, I’ll expect your answer.”
One day was more than enough. “Thank you,” I said. It echoed in my ears. My heart was numb.
He turned away, a clear dismissal. Hado rose, gesturing me up, too, and as we had entered, we left in silence.
“I want to see Shiny,” I said, once we were back in my room. Another cell, though prettier than the last. I did not think Sky’s windows would break so easily. That was all right, though. I wouldn’t need to try.
Hado, who had gone to stand at the window, nodded. “I’ll see if I can find him.”
“What, you aren’t keeping him locked up someplace?”
“No. He has the run of Sky if he wants it, by the Lord Arameri’s own decree. That has been so since he was first made mortal here ten years ago.”
I was sitting at the room’s table. A meal had been laid out, but it sat untouched before me. “He became mortal… here?”
“Oh, yes. All of it happened here—the Gray Lady’s birth, the Nightlord’s release, and Itempas’s defeat, all in a single morning.”
My father’s death, my mind added.
“Then the Lady and the Nightlord left him here.” He shrugged. “Afterward, T’vril extended every courtesy to him. I think some of the Arameri hoped he would take over the family and lead it on to some new glory. Instead he did nothing, said nothing. Just sat in a room for six months. Died of thirst once or twice, I heard, before he realized he no longer had a choice about eating and drinking.” Hado sighed. “Then one day he simply got up and walked out, without warning or farewell. T’vril ordered a search, but no one could find him.”
Because he had gone to the Ancestors’ Village, I realized. Of course the Arameri would never have thought to look for their god there.
“How do you know all this?” I frowned. “You don’t have an Arameri mark.”
“Not yet.” Hado turned to me, and I thought that he smiled. “Soon, though. That was the bargain I struck with T’vril: if I proved myself, I could be adopted into the family as a fullblood. I think bringing down a threat to the gods should qualify.”
“Only if they force us to,” the Arameri said. Then, to my greater shock, he knelt in front of me.
“It will not be slavery,” he said, and his voice was gentle. Kind. “That time of our history is done. We will pay you as we do any of the scriveners or soldiers who fight for us. Provide you housing, protection. All we ask is that you give some of your blood to us—and that you allow our scriveners to place a mark upon your body. I will not lie to you about this mark’s purpose, Eru Shoth: it is a leash. Through it we will know whenever your blood has been shed in sufficient quantity to be a danger. We will know your location in the event of another kidnapping, or if you attempt to flee. And with this mark, we will be able to kill you if necessary—quickly, painlessly, and thoroughly, from any distance. Your body will turn to ash so that no one else will be able to use its… unique properties.” He sighed, his voice full of compassion. “It will not be slavery, but neither will you be wholly free. The choice is yours.”
I was so tired. So very tired of all of this. “Choice?” I asked. My voice sounded dull to my own ears. “Life on a leash or death? That’s your choice?”
“I’m being generous even to offer, Eru Shoth.” He reached up then, put a hand on my shoulder. I thought he meant to be reassuring. “I could easily force you to do as I please.”
Like the New Lights did, I considered saying, but there was no need for that. He knew precisely what a hellish bargain he’d offered me. The Arameri got what they wanted either way; if I chose death, they would take what blood they could from my body and store it against future need. And if I lived… I almost laughed as it occurred to me. They would want me to have children, wouldn’t they? Perhaps the Shoths would become a shadow of the Arameri: privileged, protected, our specialness permanently marked upon our bodies. Never again to live a normal life.
I opened my mouth to tell him no, that I would not accept the life he offered. Then I remembered: I had already promised my life to another.
That would be better, I decided. At least with Shiny I would die on my own terms.
“I’d… like some time to think about it,” I heard myself say, as from a distance.
“Of course,” said the Lord Arameri. He rose, letting go of me. “You may remain as our guest for another day. By tomorrow evening, I’ll expect your answer.”
One day was more than enough. “Thank you,” I said. It echoed in my ears. My heart was numb.
He turned away, a clear dismissal. Hado rose, gesturing me up, too, and as we had entered, we left in silence.
“I want to see Shiny,” I said, once we were back in my room. Another cell, though prettier than the last. I did not think Sky’s windows would break so easily. That was all right, though. I wouldn’t need to try.
Hado, who had gone to stand at the window, nodded. “I’ll see if I can find him.”
“What, you aren’t keeping him locked up someplace?”
“No. He has the run of Sky if he wants it, by the Lord Arameri’s own decree. That has been so since he was first made mortal here ten years ago.”
I was sitting at the room’s table. A meal had been laid out, but it sat untouched before me. “He became mortal… here?”
“Oh, yes. All of it happened here—the Gray Lady’s birth, the Nightlord’s release, and Itempas’s defeat, all in a single morning.”
My father’s death, my mind added.
“Then the Lady and the Nightlord left him here.” He shrugged. “Afterward, T’vril extended every courtesy to him. I think some of the Arameri hoped he would take over the family and lead it on to some new glory. Instead he did nothing, said nothing. Just sat in a room for six months. Died of thirst once or twice, I heard, before he realized he no longer had a choice about eating and drinking.” Hado sighed. “Then one day he simply got up and walked out, without warning or farewell. T’vril ordered a search, but no one could find him.”
Because he had gone to the Ancestors’ Village, I realized. Of course the Arameri would never have thought to look for their god there.
“How do you know all this?” I frowned. “You don’t have an Arameri mark.”
“Not yet.” Hado turned to me, and I thought that he smiled. “Soon, though. That was the bargain I struck with T’vril: if I proved myself, I could be adopted into the family as a fullblood. I think bringing down a threat to the gods should qualify.”
