I sagged to the floor, confused, because… because… what? I felt glorious. I also felt almost dead. This was a very strange combination of feelings.
“No, Shill.” Ia held me still, stroking my hair back from my face. “No. Make them earn what you can give them. Make sure they’re worthy, little Sibling.”
“Wh-what?” I couldn’t think. Why was Ia being so nice, all of a sudden? What had happened, exactly? I tried to sit up and could not. Ia helped me. I would think about that later, though, because suddenly there were more important mysteries to ponder.
Like: what had wrecked the Raringa? There was rubble everywhere around me, a burst pipe at the back of the room spraying a flood, fallen lanterns smoldering and and torn scrolls fluttering and broken record-spheres rolling about. Most of the people in the chamber were not hurt, for which I was relieved. But—suddenly I remembered what I had done, what I had been compelled to do to Eino, and I gasped, looking around for him. “Where—” Then I saw him, and my mouth fell open.
Because Eino floated unconscious at the center of the room in a slow-curling funnel of hair and robe. He glowed, blacklit and shivery—and all around him, swirling too in a delighted dance, were dozens of small colored balls. Some of them had clouds. As I watched, down through the hole in the Raringa’s ceiling came a tiny sun, which circled Eino once and then passed into Eino’s flesh, vanishing. I could feel other suns out there, queuing up to do the same thing: at least ten of them, happily giving themselves over to remake him into what they’d yearned for: a new god of mischief and troublemaking and stirring things up just for shits and giggles—or maybe because tradition had held sway for too long.
A new… trickster. The Trickster.
And elsewhere, everywhere around the mortal realm, all over this planet—there were others. One… two… six… a dozen… more. Newborn gods: mortals suddenly and shockingly turned immortal, all of them still forging the selves they would become, solidifying in power… but all of them made by me.
“Oh,” I said, blinking. “Whoops.”
It was Yeine, later when we had all gone back to Fahno’s house, who explained what had happened.
“It’s something I thought might take place eventually,” she said. She sat at the kitchen table; everyone in the house had gathered round in awe. Juem, with shaking hands, had offered her a roasted gran banana, and to everyone’s surprise she had grinned and enthusiastically accepted. It had been her favorite, apparently, when she was mortal.
She looked at me, where I sat across from her. My mortal shape was taller than hers now, all grown up, with nice strong arms and long fast legs and nice white teeth, which I used to grin back at her.
“I turn my back on you for three days, Shill.” She shook her head, amused and wry. “Well, that will teach me to assume I know what the universe needs. I thought it lacked… something. I thought that something might be what it had lost—and that was indeed the case.” She turned now to Eino.
Eino, who floated in the middle of the room, because he could not figure out how to make himself stand on the ground. Everyone was giving him a wide berth, and he looked distinctly worried, himself. Poor baby god! At least he’d finally figured out how to make the planets stop bothering him.
“Welcome to the family,” she said gently, and Eino flinched.
“Please,” he said, fidgeting; his robes kept swirling around him in an unfelt wind, and his hair kept getting into his face. “Please, great Lady of Twilight—”
“Yeine will do.”
He looked distinctly uncomfortable. I leaned over to whisper to Yeine, “Boys aren’t supposed to get familiar with strange women.” Then I winked at Arolu, so he would know I had listened to him. He groaned from where he sat, looking faint as he had all afternoon.
Yeine coughed, though I could tell she was really laughing. “Ah. Things have changed a bit since my day, I see; back then we couldn’t shut men up around strange women. But I think you’ll find, Eino mau Tehno, that the rules of mortality no longer apply to you now. Speak to whomever you like.”
He stared at her, and gradually began to sag toward the ground. “It’s true, then. I’m… this is…” He lifted his hands, stared at them. “I’m a godling.”
She regarded him for a long moment, thoughtful. I stared at him. “Yeah,” I said. I couldn’t believe he actually seemed upset about it. “You’re a godling, and now you’ll live forever, and you’ve got all kinds of magic! Now nobody can make you get married, or keep you from dancing. Now, if you wanted, you could make every man in Darr free, just like that!”