“Be silent!” Sieh snapped, whipping around to glare at her. His voice dropped suddenly, a young man’s again; instant puberty. “How dare you? I have told you time and again—mortals are as much Enefa’s creations as we ourselves.”
“Leftovers,” Kurue retorted. “Weak and cowardly and too stupid to look beyond themselves for more than five minutes. Yet you and Naha will insist on putting your trust in them—”
Sieh rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Tell me, Kurue, which of your proud, god-only plans has gotten us free?”
Kurue turned away in resentful silence.
I barely saw all this. Nahadoth and I were still staring at each other.
“Yeine.” Sieh’s small, soft hand touched my cheek, coaxing my head around to face him. His voice had returned to a childish treble. “Are you all right?”
“What happened?” I asked.
“We’re not certain.”
I sighed and pulled away from him, trying to get to my feet. My body felt hollowed out, stuffed with cotton. I slipped and settled onto my knees again, and cursed.
“Yeine—”
“If you’re going to lie to me again, don’t bother.”
A muscle worked in Sieh’s jaw; he glanced at his siblings. “It’s true, Yeine. We aren’t certain. But… for some reason… Enefa’s soul has not healed as much as we hoped it would in the time since we put it in you. It’s whole,” and here he glanced at Kurue significantly. “Enough to serve its purpose. But it’s very fragile—too fragile to be drawn out safely.”
Safely for the soul, he meant, not for me. I shook my head, too tired to laugh.
“No telling how much damage has been done,” Kurue muttered, turning away to pace the room’s small confines.
“An unused limb withers,” Zhakkarn said softly. “She had her own soul, and no need for another.”
Which I would happily have told you, I thought sourly, if I’d been able to protest at the time.
But what in the Maelstrom did all this mean for me? That the Enefadeh would make no further attempt to draw the soul from my body? Good, since I had no desire to experience that pain ever again. But it also meant that they were committed to their plan now, because they couldn’t get the thing out of me otherwise.
Was that, then, why I had all these strange dreams and visions? Because a goddess’s soul had begun to rot inside me?
Demons and darkness. Like a compass needle seeking north, I swung back around to look at Nahadoth. He turned away.
“What did you say earlier?” Kurue suddenly demanded. “About Dekarta.”
That particular concern seemed a million miles away. I pulled myself back to it, the here and now, and tried to push from my mind that terrible sky and the image of shining hands gripping and twisting flesh.
“Dekarta is throwing a ball in my honor,” I replied, “in one week. To celebrate my designation as one of the possible heirs.” I shook my head. “Who knows? Maybe it’s just a ball.”
The Enefadeh looked at each other.
“So soon,” murmured Sieh, frowning. “I had no idea he would do it this soon.”
Kurue nodded to herself. “Canny old bastard. He’ll probably have the ceremony at dawn the morning after.”
“Could this mean he’s discovered what we’ve done?” asked Zhakkarn.
“No,” Kurue said, looking at me, “or she’d be dead and the soul would already be in Itempas’s hands.”
I shuddered at the thought and finally pushed myself to my feet. I did not turn to Nahadoth again.
“Are you done being angry with me?” I asked, brushing wrinkles out of my skirt. “I think we have unfinished business.”
16
Sar-enna-nem
THE PRIESTS DO MENTION THE GODS’ WAR sometimes, mainly as a warning against heresy. Because of Enefa, they say. Because of the Betrayer, for three days people and animals lay helpless and gasping for air, hearts gradually slowing and bellies bloating as their bowels ceased to function. Plants wilted and died in hours; vast fertile plains turned to gray desert. Meanwhile the sea we now call Repentance boiled, and for some reason all the tallest mountains were split in half. The priests say that was the work of the godlings, Enefa’s immortal offspring, who each took sides and battled across the earth. Their fathers, the lords of the sky, mostly kept their fight up there.
Because of Enefa, the priests say. They do not say, because Itempas killed her.
When the war finally ended, most of the world was dead. What remained was forever changed. In my land, hunters pass down legends of beasts that no longer exist; harvest songs praise staples long lost. Those first Arameri did a great deal for the survivors, the priests are careful to note. With the magic of their war-prisoner gods they replenished the oceans, sealed the mountains, healed the land. Though there was nothing to be done for the dead, they saved as many as they could of the survivors.