The Inheritance Trilogy Omnibus(143)

“Sieh,” the quiet woman said again, her tone disapproving.

Sieh scowled, in that moment looking like nothing more than a sulky little boy caught doing something wrong. “What? It’s not like he’s really mortal.”

Off to the side, the blonde goddess, Lil, looked at Shiny with interest. “He smells mortal enough. Sweat and pain and blood and fear, so nice.”

The new goddess glanced at her, which didn’t seem to bother Lil at all, then focused on Sieh again. “This wasn’t what we had in mind.”

“Why shouldn’t I kick him to death now and again? He’s not even trying to fulfill the terms you set. He might as well entertain me.”

The goddess shook her head, sighing, and went to him. To my surprise, Sieh did not resist as she pulled him into an embrace, cupping one hand at the back of his head. He held stiff against her, not reciprocating, but even I could see that he did not mind being held.

“This serves no purpose,” she said in his ear, and so tender was her tone that I could not help thinking of my own mother, miles away in Nimaro Territory. “It doesn’t help. It doesn’t even hurt him, not in any way that matters. Why do you bother?”

Sieh turned his face away, his hands clenching at his sides. “You know why!”

“Yes, I know. Do you?”

When Sieh spoke again, I could hear the strain in his voice. “No! I hate him! I want to kill him forever!”

But then the dam broke, and he sagged against her, dissolving into tears. The quiet goddess sighed and pulled him closer, seemingly content to comfort him for however long it took.

I marveled at this for a moment, torn between awe and pity, then remembered Shiny on the ground nearby, his breathing labored now.

Surreptitiously I edged away from Madding, who was watching the tableau with the oddest look on his face, something I could not interpret. Sorrow, maybe. Chagrin. It didn’t matter. While he and the others were preoccupied, I went over to Shiny. It was definitely him; I recognized his peculiar spice-and-metal scent. When I crouched to examine him, I found his back as hot as a fever and completely drenched in what I hoped was only sweat. He had bent in on himself in a huddle, his fists clenched tight, in obvious agony.

His condition enraged me. I lifted my eyes to glare at Sieh and the quiet goddess—and with a deep chill, I found her watching me over Sieh’s bony shoulder. Hadn’t her eyes been gray-green before? They were yellowish green now, and not at all warm.

“Interesting,” she said. Beside her, Sieh turned to peer at me, too, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand. She kept a hand on his shoulder with absent affection and said to me, “Are you his lover?”

“She’s not,” said Madding.

The woman threw him the mildest of looks, and Madding’s jaw flexed. It was as close to fear as I had ever seen him come.

“I’m not,” I blurted. I didn’t know what was going on, why Madding seemed so wary of this woman and the child-god, but I knew I didn’t want Madding getting in trouble for my folly. “Shiny lives with me. We… he’s…” What should I say? Never lie to a godling, Mad had warned me long ago. Some of them had spent millennia studying humankind. They could not read minds, but the language of our bodies was an open book. “I’m his friend,” I said at last.

The boy exchanged a look with the goddess, and then both of them turned unnerving, enigmatic gazes on me. I noticed only then that Sieh’s pupils were slitted, like those of a snake or cat.

“His friend,” said Sieh. His face was expressionless now, his eyes dry, his voice without inflection. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

It sounded so weak. “Yes,” I said. “It’s… how I… think of myself, anyway.” Another silence fell, and in it, I grew ashamed. I didn’t even know Shiny’s real name. “Please just stop hurting him.” It was a whisper this time.

Sieh sighed, and so did the woman. The feeling that I was walking a narrow bridge over a very deep chasm began to fade.

“You call yourself his friend,” the woman said. There was compassion in her voice, to my surprise. And her eyes were darker green now, shading toward hazel. “Does he call you the same?”

So they had noticed. “I don’t know,” I said, hating her for asking that question. I did not look at Shiny, who was still beside me. “He doesn’t talk to me.”

“Ask yourself why,” drawled the boy.

I licked my lips. “There are many reasons why a man would hesitate to speak about his past.”

“Few of those reasons are good. His certainly aren’t.” With a last contemptuous look, Sieh turned and walked away.