Eino flinched and glared at my hands until I let go of his robes. “No,” he said, in a cold scary way that made me think of Mama Yeine. “You destroyed the city by accident, Lady Shill. You think I don’t remember, just because Lord Ia cleaned up your mess? I’m grateful for your help, but go find your nature with someone else as your prop. I have my own troubles.”
“But it only happened with you! And I only found a little bit of me!” He set his jaw and turned away, starting toward and down the terrace steps; anxiously I trotted after him, trying desperately to think of how I could convince him. “Maybe—um—maybe I can help you?”
Eino stopped. Fully robed, with his hair perfect, he was so different from the wild master of the dance that he seemed like a whole other person. I didn’t know which was the real him, and which wasn’t. Maybe he was both. In this shape, however, his expression didn’t change; his whole face was like a mask. “What do you mean?”
“I… I don’t know.” I twisted some grass beneath my toe; it didn’t mind. “I could do more god-stuff for you, I guess?” He had so little magic. “Anything you want, if I know how to do it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’d do my bidding? In exchange for… what, exactly?”
Oh, this! I inhaled. “Let me follow you around and do stuff like you do and talk to you and watch how you do things and maybe be your friend!”
Eino’s expression turned sardonic. “Just that.”
“Well… yes. I need to understand you.” This, I felt sure, was the key to learning my nature. And then I gasped. “Oh! Maybe you could be my enulai, too!”
Something changed minutely in his expression. “No.”
“Why not? You’re a d-demon, aren’t you?” I still shivered when I said it.
“Yes, I am.” He smiled, but it was another not-happy smile. “I am the only child or grandchild of Fahno, greatest enulai of the age, who’s inherited her gift. But I’m told I don’t have the temperament to be an enulai.”
I remembered Eino yelling at me in the market when I’d stood there blubbering. “Uh, I don’t think whoever told you that was right.”
He blinked, then for the first time since the raid, he smiled in a good way.
After a moment he sighed. “Very well, then, Lady Shill.” He extended his hand; not quite sure what else to do, I took it. “I suppose you’ve been helping me all along, lately. We might as well formalize the relationship. Only until Beba assigns you a proper enulai, though. And only if you tell no one; I’m in enough trouble as it is.”
I gasped in delight. An enulai! A secret enulai, all mine! “OK!”
“In the meantime—” He tilted his head with perfect grace. “Home, please?”
“OK!” I was so happy that I took his hand and did exactly what he wanted, right then and there.
OK OK OK OK WAAAAAIT. (This is how Mama Yeine likes to tell stories. I don’t tell Papa Tempa that I like her storying, too, even if it is not the Proper Way.)
Now I will tell you about other stuff that was happening, because mortal stuff is very tiny stuff compared to everything else that’s always going on. And this other stuff is important! You need to know it, too, because you are really new, like me.
THERE IS A BIG HOLE IN EXISTENCE. Can you see it? Mortals can’t, but you can. Look right there. Look look look! Now tilt your head and squint. And now laheelishrinjael jyama, shu enwa owamehikach. Ashkayeerikajishge ichttu. Ichttu, ichttu! No, your other left. See it now?
Yes, it is really big. That is where the Maelstrom punched through. The Three have patched over the hole, and it is healing; Naha says it should be fine in a couple billion years. But right now it is still a big hole and actually you should not ever go too close to that hole because there are still bits of Maelstrom stuck in it and they will eat you. That is why I told you about it. I’m a good teacher!
Now look here and here and here and here, and there. Those are smaller holes. They will not hurt you. They’re hard to see, even, right? But they hurt existence. Those are the holes that are left behind when godlings die. We are not very important, not like the Three. The universe does not come apart if we die. It does get kind of messed up, though. Especially when one of the very old ones dies, because they’ve been around long enough that existence has sort of grown around them, and leaned on them a little. Without them, it cracks and maybe stumbles. Then in a few eons it’s fine again.
Everything was already stumbly when the Maelstrom came. The Demons’ War killed demons, and they do not leave holes the way godlings do, but maybe they left little itchy bumps because then later everybody got cranky and had the Gods’ War. That one was really bad, because lots of godlings died in it—mostly young ones, but a few old ones, too. And maybe that is why it was so easy for Kahl to call the Maelstrom, and why Sieh changed and died—because when existence is shaky, all kinds of things can happen, good and bad.