His fingers found mine, and he squeezed them gently. He’d been a good friend since arriving, never asking for more than what we’d had in the Void.
But I missed Avan. I missed him more than I could put into words, and every day, the missing grew. I tried not to think about it, the lack of him, but my dreams made it difficult. Every night, I had to relive different moments with him: lingering conversations in the halls at school, him laughing from behind his dad’s counter, his body wrapped around mine in the Void, his steady presence beside me every night in Etu Gahl. His smile, his tattoo, the way he’d looked that night in his room when we’d made an unspoken promise that couldn’t last.
Mason said, “Kalla asked to see you. She’s in her tower, but you don’t have to go. You don’t owe her anything.”
I wasn’t as angry with her as I was with Kronos, but I didn’t like her, either. As far as I was concerned, once they sorted out Ninurta’s leadership, they could go back to wherever the Infinite were supposed to spend eternity and stay there. I didn’t know how much time I had before Kronos—it was still weird to call him “Dad,” even in my head—came back, either, and it was an unnerving feeling, as if I was walking around with a ticking clock over my head.
Kalla hadn’t spoken to me since she restored my citizenship. If she wanted to see me now, it was probably important.
I slid my hand away from Mason’s and stood. “Thanks.”
“I’ll walk you up.”
“It’s okay. Stay here. I’ll come back after.”
“Tonight, I want to show you the observatory,” he said. “If that’s okay.”
I smiled, genuinely pleased by the idea. “I’d love that.”
From the oasis to Kalla’s tower was a quick walk through the palace grounds and the government buildings, separated from the public by yet another wall, although not as tall or imposing as the others. The arena had been built just outside the grounds but was connected to many of the buildings via an underground tunnel.
On the long staircase leading up to Kalla’s tower, I contemplated all the reasons she’d want to see me. Maybe Kronos had come back. Maybe carrying her scythe around for weeks had taken its toll on me after all. Maybe Ninu wasn’t as dead as he was supposed to be. I didn’t know how death worked with the Infinite. Immortality was supposed to be pretty straightforward, but I guess there were exceptions.
The doors at the top of the stairs were open. Kalla stood in front of the tall windows overlooking the city. She’d taken a different form. She’d shorn her hair, that one black streak a feathery patch above her temple. Her face looked more angular, her cheekbones more prominent, eyes thinner, and mouth wider. She wore a silver tunic over a simple white shirt and fitted white pants.
“Join me,” she said. The torches had been doused. The only light came in through the windows, and it left the corners dressed in shadows.
I hadn’t been here since that night, since Avan—
Straightening my shoulders, I stepped in to greet Death.
CHAPTER 41
“AREN’T YOU CURIOUS about what you are?” she asked.
I stood next to her by a window. With my hands pressed to the glass, I could almost imagine myself floating above the city.
Of course I am. But you killed Avan, and you would have killed Reev. “I’m human,” I said. And I still planned to stay that way.
“For now,” she murmured. “Did you know that Ninu was once human?”
I glanced away from studying the crooked lines of the Labyrinth in the distance. Ninu had said something about not always being Infinite.
“How’s that possible?”
“There are ways. He and Istar were both human. But Istar was from a much earlier time. She has been Infinite far longer. And she came to enjoy it.”
“Where is Istar?” I asked. I wanted to know which parts of the city to avoid.
Kalla smiled. “She doesn’t get along with Irra. She finds him unsightly, and he finds her obscene. She’s chosen to leave Ninurta for the time being.”
Even though he’d been in on Kalla’s plan, Irra had helped sentinels like Mason. Finding out he’d essentially chased away Istar only improved my opinion of him.
“Ninu, on the other hand”—Kalla touched her forehead to the windowpane, only the red spot of her lips visible in the reflection—“when he was human, the world had already shifted away from worshipping us, directing their prayers to our progeny. The mahjo. It was a century before Rebirth. His predecessor, the Conquest before him, came to an unexpected end at the hands of one of his descendants. An accident, from what I gathered.”
How did you accidentally kill an immortal? There was obviously more to the story.
“Ninu—Jem, as he was called then—had been nearby. He tried to help my brother, but nothing could be done.”
Condensation spread across the glass as she spoke, fogging her image. I didn’t understand why she was telling me this. She had wanted Ninu dead. There was no point in sympathizing with him now.
“The number of Infinite is constant. Seventy immortals to shape the human world but never directly interfere.”
“I’d say that rule was shot,” I muttered. But I remembered that when Irra first told me about the Infinite, he had said something about maintaining a constant number of them. Seventy was a daunting amount. I hoped I’d never have to meet them all.
“This is not the first time the Infinite have interfered with the humans, you know.”
Considering that their human descendants were still running around, this was hardly difficult to believe.
“Although Ninu was the first to insert himself publicly among them. I suppose it was wishful thinking.” By the tone of her voice, she obviously didn’t share Ninu’s desire to be anything less than Infinite.
“What did you get out of all this?”
She looked at me imperiously. “Me? The Infinite are not always so self-serving. Ninu violated our laws and had to be stopped. But it left us with a difficult choice and a position to fill. There are laws among the Infinite that aren’t so easily broken. Just as there are ways to eliminate the Infinite who have strayed from their purpose, there are ways to fill the void after such a loss. For coming to my brother’s aid, we chose Jem as his replacement.” Her eyes shut as if she was picturing a memory. “In the beginning, the wonders of being immortal awed him. He took joy in exploring his new world.”
She frowned.
“But he grew discontent. Lonely, perhaps. He longed for the lost years of his human life and the people he’d left behind. So he appealed to Kronos and asked for access to the River. He wished to return to that day he found Conquest and change his fate, to alter his decision to help him so that another might have been chosen.”
I think I understood where she was heading. “I don’t want to be Infinite. I thought I made that clear. I’m never going to be like you or Ninu, not after—” Not after everything they’d done to me and the people I loved.
But I still had questions, the most demanding of which was, if Kronos was my father, then who was my mother? I was the daughter of an Infinite, but I wasn’t mahjo. Ninu had said I was born of the River, but what did that mean? Why was I different? Were there others like me? I knew that a part of me would always yearn for the truth and wonder What if . . . ?
Kalla stepped away from the window, her head bowed. “Sometimes, I think it best you remain human. We have seen the chaos of one Infinite who longed for his human life. But you are of the River. The damage you could inflict on the balance between humans and Infinite far exceeds anything Ninu has done.”