“You said when next you confronted me my power would be broken!” cried the hawk.
“Your power is broken!” came the hissing, whispering answer. The hawk screamed, and fell out of the sky into the plaza. Its impact sent the entire mass of butterflies into the air and for several minutes I saw nothing but dark wings. I thought of them close up, flying in my face as I crossed the plaza, so fragile and so terrifying.
Then, as if at some signal, the butterflies flew up into the sky and away in a black cloud, leaving the plaza wet and pristine, not a trace of the hawk.
Essferend wasted no time assuming authority, concerning herself immediately with supplies of food and water for the city. No priests opposed her; all were dead.
“It’s a good thing you lived,” I said to her. She ignored me; she liked me even less now that I’d helped destroy Lord Sun. But she had always been eminently practical, and the people must be housed and fed.
The other gods returned—Crane and Heron, Snake and Lizard, Antelope and Wolf, Sparrow and Hummingbird, Fox and Shrew, Aurochs and Boar, Owl and Vulture, Squirrel and Mouse. They conferred with Essferend, and messengers from the outlying villages. Everyone ignored me except Hondjetat, but Hondjetat was openly angry with me, and wept constantly.
After several days of this, I went down to the river. “River Schael,” I called, without the slightest hope that she would reply.
The fish surfaced immediately. “The butterfly asked me to give you safe passage downriver, if you wanted it,” it said. “She also asked me to give you her advice, that you take that safe passage.” It sank under the water again and was gone.
“You should,” said a tiny voice at my feet. I crouched, and found an ant on a blade of grass. “We need many of the hawk’s officials to keep things running smoothly. Those who would reward you for your help cannot do so without offending those who resent your actions. And those who would kill you....”
“Don’t wish to offend the new administration.”
“It’s uncomfortable for everyone.”
“More so for me, I think.”
“I wouldn’t dare speculate,” said Ant. “You are welcome to your own opinion. Certainly we used you. But had we done nothing, you would be dead now.”
“She tried to kill me.” I remembered the whispering assault as I crossed the plaza. “She said untrue things, and it didn’t seem to hurt her.”
“Did she?”
“She said I would die.”
“And so you will,” said Ant. “Every human does.”
“She said I would weep in terror and she would drink my tears and my blood.”
“Then you will, and she will. Depend on it.”
I suppressed a shiver. The more I thought about leaving the more I wanted it. “Where do I go?”
“Downriver. Beyond our territory. To the Nalendar, perhaps.”
“The Zuxugo girl said the Nalendar had a school.”
“Ah, yes!” said Ant, sounding very satisfied. “We could use the connection, good relations with powerful rivers being advantageous.”
“You meant to direct me there from the start!” I accused.
“Take Hondjetat with you.”
“She won’t want to go.”
“She will be resigned to it,” said Ant, “or she will not.”
“And the butterfly?”
“She comes and goes as she pleases. Come, the boat is waiting for you at the other end of the rapids. I’ll have someone send for Hondjetat.”
I wanted to be angry at the way Ant had used me, altered me without asking, the way it was arranging my life without consulting me. But it had been a friendly voice for so long, and I wanted so badly to be away from here that I found it difficult to sustain more than dread and sorrow at Hondjetat’s hatred.
“All right,” I said, and stood and walked downstream, not waiting for Ant to lead me to the boat, and my future.