The Kingdom of Gods
Page 89
“I don’t know, Ahad,” said Kitr, who was smiling viciously at me. “I might.”
Ahad rolled his eyes. “You won’t, so be silent. Sieh, sit down. We have business to discuss.”
I was so startled by Ahad’s shutdown of Kitr that I forgot my fear. Kitr, too, looked more astonished than affronted. Any fool could tell that Ahad was the youngest of us, and inexperience meant weakness among our kind. He was weak, lacking the crucial means of making himself stronger. Yet there was no hint of fear in his eyes as he met her glare, and to my amazement — and everyone else’s, to judge by their expressions — Kitr said nothing in reply.
Feeling vaguely unimportant in the wake of this, I came to the table and sat down.
“So what the hells is this?” I asked, choosing a chair with no one on either side of me. “The weekly meeting of the Godlings’ Auxiliary, Lower Shadow Chapter?”
They all glowered. Except Lil, who laughed. Good old Lil. I had always liked her, when she wasn’t asking for my limbs as snacks. She leaned forward. “We are conspiring,” she said. Her raspy voice was filled with such childlike glee that I grinned back.
“This is about Darr, then.” I looked at Ahad, wondering if he had told them about the mask already.
“This is about many things,” he replied. He alone had a comfortable chair; someone had carted in the big leather chair from his office. “All of which may fit into a larger picture.”
“Not just the pieces you’ve discovered.” Nemmer smiled sweetly. “Isn’t that why you contacted me, Brother? You’re turning mortal, and it’s making you pay attention to more than your own ass for a change. But I thought you were staying in Sky. Did the Arameri throw you out?”
Kitr laughed hard enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. “Gods, Ahad, you said he was powerless, but I never dreamt it would be this bad. You’re mortal, Sieh. What good can you do in all this? Nothing but run to Daddy and Mommy — who aren’t here now to protect you.” Her eyes fixed on me, her smile fading, and I knew she was remembering the War. I was remembering it, too. Beneath the table, my hands clenched into fists and I wished I had my claws.
Eyem-sutah, who had not fought because he’d loved a mortal and had nearly killed himself protecting her, let out a long, weary sigh. “Please,” he said. “Please. This helps nothing.”
“Indeed, it does not,” said Ahad, looking at all of us with contempt. “So if we are agreed that no one is a child here, not even the one who should be, can we then please focus on events of this millennium?”
“I don’t like your tone —” began Kitr, but then to my greater surprise, Glee cuyin?ntempt. t her off.
“I have limited time,” she said. She seemed so completely at ease in a room full of godlings that I wondered again if she might be Arameri. It was far back in her lineage if so; she looked to be pure-blooded Maroneh.
To my surprise, all my siblings fell silent at her words, looking at her with a combination of consternation and unease. This made me even more curious — so Ahad was not the only one who deferred to her? — but that curiosity would have to remain unsatisfied for the moment.
“All right, then,” I said, addressing Ahad because he seemed to be at least trying to stay focused. “Who’s going to go take that mask and destroy it?”
“No one.” Ahad steepled his fingers.
“Excuse me?” Kitr spoke before I could. “Based on what you’ve told us, Ahad, nothing so powerful should be left in mortal hands.”
“And what better hands are there for it?” He looked around the table, and I flinched as I realized what he meant. Nemmer, too, sighed and sat back. “One of us? Nahadoth? Yeine?”
“It would make more sense —” Kitr began.
“No,” said Nemmer. “No. Remember what happened the last time a god got hold of a powerful mortal weapon.” At this, Eyem-sutah, who had chosen to resemble an Amn, went pale.
Kitr’s face tightened. “You don’t know that this mask is even dangerous to us. It hurt him.” She jabbed a thumb at me, her lip curling. “But harsh language could hurt him now.”
“It hurt Kahl, too,” I said, scowling. “The thing is broken, incomplete. Whatever it’s supposed to do, it’s doing it wrong. But as powerful as it is now, I see no reason why we should wait for the mortals to complete it before we act.” I glared at Ahad, and at Glee, too. “You know what mortals are capable of.”
Ahad rolled his eyes. “You won’t, so be silent. Sieh, sit down. We have business to discuss.”
I was so startled by Ahad’s shutdown of Kitr that I forgot my fear. Kitr, too, looked more astonished than affronted. Any fool could tell that Ahad was the youngest of us, and inexperience meant weakness among our kind. He was weak, lacking the crucial means of making himself stronger. Yet there was no hint of fear in his eyes as he met her glare, and to my amazement — and everyone else’s, to judge by their expressions — Kitr said nothing in reply.
Feeling vaguely unimportant in the wake of this, I came to the table and sat down.
“So what the hells is this?” I asked, choosing a chair with no one on either side of me. “The weekly meeting of the Godlings’ Auxiliary, Lower Shadow Chapter?”
They all glowered. Except Lil, who laughed. Good old Lil. I had always liked her, when she wasn’t asking for my limbs as snacks. She leaned forward. “We are conspiring,” she said. Her raspy voice was filled with such childlike glee that I grinned back.
“This is about Darr, then.” I looked at Ahad, wondering if he had told them about the mask already.
“This is about many things,” he replied. He alone had a comfortable chair; someone had carted in the big leather chair from his office. “All of which may fit into a larger picture.”
“Not just the pieces you’ve discovered.” Nemmer smiled sweetly. “Isn’t that why you contacted me, Brother? You’re turning mortal, and it’s making you pay attention to more than your own ass for a change. But I thought you were staying in Sky. Did the Arameri throw you out?”
Kitr laughed hard enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck bristle. “Gods, Ahad, you said he was powerless, but I never dreamt it would be this bad. You’re mortal, Sieh. What good can you do in all this? Nothing but run to Daddy and Mommy — who aren’t here now to protect you.” Her eyes fixed on me, her smile fading, and I knew she was remembering the War. I was remembering it, too. Beneath the table, my hands clenched into fists and I wished I had my claws.
Eyem-sutah, who had not fought because he’d loved a mortal and had nearly killed himself protecting her, let out a long, weary sigh. “Please,” he said. “Please. This helps nothing.”
“Indeed, it does not,” said Ahad, looking at all of us with contempt. “So if we are agreed that no one is a child here, not even the one who should be, can we then please focus on events of this millennium?”
“I don’t like your tone —” began Kitr, but then to my greater surprise, Glee cuyin?ntempt. t her off.
“I have limited time,” she said. She seemed so completely at ease in a room full of godlings that I wondered again if she might be Arameri. It was far back in her lineage if so; she looked to be pure-blooded Maroneh.
To my surprise, all my siblings fell silent at her words, looking at her with a combination of consternation and unease. This made me even more curious — so Ahad was not the only one who deferred to her? — but that curiosity would have to remain unsatisfied for the moment.
“All right, then,” I said, addressing Ahad because he seemed to be at least trying to stay focused. “Who’s going to go take that mask and destroy it?”
“No one.” Ahad steepled his fingers.
“Excuse me?” Kitr spoke before I could. “Based on what you’ve told us, Ahad, nothing so powerful should be left in mortal hands.”
“And what better hands are there for it?” He looked around the table, and I flinched as I realized what he meant. Nemmer, too, sighed and sat back. “One of us? Nahadoth? Yeine?”
“It would make more sense —” Kitr began.
“No,” said Nemmer. “No. Remember what happened the last time a god got hold of a powerful mortal weapon.” At this, Eyem-sutah, who had chosen to resemble an Amn, went pale.
Kitr’s face tightened. “You don’t know that this mask is even dangerous to us. It hurt him.” She jabbed a thumb at me, her lip curling. “But harsh language could hurt him now.”
“It hurt Kahl, too,” I said, scowling. “The thing is broken, incomplete. Whatever it’s supposed to do, it’s doing it wrong. But as powerful as it is now, I see no reason why we should wait for the mortals to complete it before we act.” I glared at Ahad, and at Glee, too. “You know what mortals are capable of.”
