The Inheritance Trilogy Omnibus(120)

Walls—rough, brown, tree-bark—appeared around us. They did not completely enclose the room; here and there were gaps, though as I watched those filled. Branches nearby grew, split, and sprouted curling leaves. Above us the sky was still visible, though dimmer, thanks to the leafy canopy that now spread there. Through that canopy rose a titanic tree trunk, gnarling and curving high into the sky.

In fact the tree’s topmost branches pierced the sky. If I looked down on this world from above I would see white clouds and blue seas and brown earth and a single magnificent tree, breaking the planet’s smooth round curve. If I flew closer I would see roots like mountains, nestling the whole of Sky-the-city between the forks. I would see branches as long as rivers. I would see people on the ground below, shaken and terrified, crawling out of their homes and picking themselves up from the sidewalks to stare in awe at the great tree that had twined itself around the Skyfather’s palace.

In fact I saw all of these things without ever opening my eyes. Then I did open them, to find my brothers and children staring at me.

“Enough,” I said again. This time they paid attention. “This realm cannot endure another Gods’ War. I will not permit it.”

“You will not permit…?” Itempas clenched his fists, and I felt the heavy, blistering smolder of his power. For a moment it frightened me, and with good reason. He had bent the universe to his will at the beginning of time; he far outstripped me in experience and wisdom. I didn’t even know how to fight as gods fought. He did not attack because there were two of us to his one, but that was the only thing holding him back.

Then there is hope, I decided.

As if reading my thoughts, Nahadoth shook his head. “No, Yeine.” His eyes were black holes in his skull, ready to swallow worlds. The hunger for retribution curled off him like smoke. “He murdered Enefa even though he loved her. He’ll have no qualms at all over you. We must destroy him, or be destroyed ourselves.”

A quandary. I held no grudge against Itempas—he had murdered Enefa, not me. But Nahadoth had millennia of pain to expunge; he deserved justice. And worse, he was right. Itempas was mad, poisoned by his own jealousy and fear. One did not allow the mad to roam free, lest they hurt others or themselves.

Yet killing him was also impossible. Out of Three had the universe been made. Without all Three, it would all end.

“I can think of only one solution,” I said softly. And even that was imperfect. After all, I knew from experience how much damage even a single mortal could inflict on the world, given enough time and power. We would just have to hope for the best.

Nahadoth frowned as he read my intention, but some of the hate flowed out of him. Yes; I had thought this might satisfy him. He nodded once in agreement.

Itempas stiffened as he realized what we meant to do. Language had been his invention; we had never really needed words. “I will not tolerate this.”

“You will,” I said, and joined my power with Nahadoth’s. It was an easy fusion, more proof that we Three were meant to work together and not at odds. Someday, when Itempas had served his penance, perhaps we could truly be Three again. What wonders we would create then! I would look forward to it, and hope.

“You will serve,” Nahadoth said to Itempas, and his voice was cold and heavy with the weight of law. I felt reality reshape itself. We had never really needed a separate language, either; any tongue would do, as long as one of us spoke the words. “Not a single family, but all the world. You will wander among mortals as one of them, unknown, commanding only what wealth and respect you can earn with your deeds and words. You may call upon your power only in great need, and only to aid these mortals for whom you hold such contempt. You will right all the wrongs inflicted in your name.”

Nahadoth smiled then. This smile was not cruel—he was free and had no need of cruelty anymore—but neither was there mercy in him. “I imagine this task will take some time.”

Itempas said nothing, because he could not. Nahadoth’s words had taken hold of him, and with the aid of my power the words wove chains that no mortal could see or sever. He fought the chaining, once unleashing his power against ours in a furious blast, but it was no use. A single member of the Three could never hope to defeat the other two. Itempas had used those odds in his own favor long enough to know better.

But I could not leave it at that. A proper punishment was meant to redeem the culprit, not just assuage the victims.

“Your sentence can end sooner,” I said, and my words, too, curved and linked and became hard around him, “if you learn to love truly.”