"How did you? Do you write reports to gods?"
"I had a ritual, of course."
"Explain that, please."
How typical of D'ward, not to know what a ritual was!
But Dolm did not laugh. “A ritual is a procedure decreed by a god. A priest will sacrifice a chicken in a particular way for a foretelling, another way for a blessing or a healing, right? It works because the god has arranged it so."
"So it's sort of like writing a name and address on a message? When you do certain things in a certain order, the god knows he's being called and what's expected of him?"
"I never thought of it that way, but yes, it must be."
How like D'ward to see things in a way nobody else did!
Dolm continued. “I had been given a ritual to summon the god in person. Obviously that is not something one undertakes lightly, especially when one's personal god is Zath. Parts of the ceremony had been made deliberately unpleasant, but of course that is to be expected.” He laughed nervously. “Fortunately he approved of my presumption, and I must admit that he rewarded me well."
"May I ask how?"
Dolm sighed. “With rapture, mostly. But he also cured the wound I had inflicted on myself as part of the ritual. Otherwise I would have bled to death."
D'ward asked the question that was making Eleal want to burst: “What does Zath look like?"
There was a long pause before Dolm answered. “Hard to say. He wears a reaper gown with a hood. I never saw him properly, not really."
"This was what Eleal saw?"
"She saw the ritual, at least. I'm sure she'd run away before Zath arrived, or she would not be around now. I never met anyone one quarter as snoopy as that child!"
How dare he call her a child!
D'ward had not finished with his questions. “Why did you call Zath that time?"
"Because of what happened in the temple. Trong sacrificed to Ois. The priest was extremely surprised by the portents. Minor rituals like that are normally routine, so I knew the goddess was taking a personal interest. Thinking she objected to my evening activities, I reported to my master. Zath knew what was happening, though. He said Eleal was the problem, and I could leave her to the goddess."
There was a silence, then, broken only by Trong's rantings in the distance.
Dolm chuckled. “You look worried. What else do you want to know?"
"This story about Eleal's mother."
Eleal bristled. It was not polite of them to discuss her when she wasn't there! Or not supposed to be there, at least.
"Is it a common event—a god raping a mortal?"
"Not raping!” Dolm protested. “She would have submitted very willingly. It's not exactly common. But I don't think it's truly rare, either. You know the athletes from the festival here always spent a night at Iilah's grove? There's a common belief that at least one husky young man will always have an interesting experience that night."
"It sounds like rape to me, if the victims can't resist. And when it's a god and a woman—do the women always kill themselves?"
"No. But men or women, they're never much good for anything else. They never speak of it, but how could they ever be happy again, after having known the love of a god? Excuse me. I've got to go. My cue's coming up."
D'ward just sat there then, by himself, thinking. Eleal crept away.
He was accepted as one of the troupe. Even Klip could not dislike him. If he had a fault, it was that he would persist in regarding Eleal as a mere child. For example, one afternoon when he was in the kitchen, helping Uthiam Piper make supper—he was peeling blueroots, Uthiam baking bread...
"I am worried about Eleal,” he said, and again that was very rude of him to discuss someone who was not there.
Uthiam laughed. “Why on earth are you worried about her?"
"Well, I'm grateful to her for what she did for me, of course. I should certainly have died without her help. I am very grateful to all of you, also, but I was brought here against my will. Somehow I must find a way to go home again and ... attend to certain important duties."
"We shall miss you. We enjoy your company. You more than pay your way with the collections—I wish I knew how you did that! But what has this to do with Eleal?"
"She seems to think she owns me! I can't stay with you forever, and I don't want to hurt the child's feelings."
Child? Eleal fumed.
"I am sorry for her,” D'ward continued. “She is so convinced that she will be a great actor when she grows up! Can she? With that game leg? She won't be able to compete in the Tion Festival or—"
"You needn't worry about that small hussy,” Uthiam said. “I would back her against the entire Sussian militia any day. In fact, if you were to peek around that door, there, right now, I suspect you would find a pair of very sharp ears, attached to the sides of Eleal Singer's head."
Eleal took off along the corridor as if Zath himself were after her.
Following six well-received performances of the Varilian, the Trong Troupe announced The Tragedy of Trastos. In the smallest print on the playbills, D'ward Scholar was mentioned in the role of Gunuu, god of courage. Rehearsals had not gone well. D'ward seemed very wooden and not at all the fiery young man who had played Kingharry for the troupe.
"Bigger, bigger!” Trong told him, over and over. “It's almost dark, remember! You're standing in firelight, not sunlight. Exuberate! Wave your arms! Declaim!"
But D'ward continued to play the part in the same dull way, almost as if he hoped they would cancel his appearance.
Even on the morning of the first performance, Trong was doubtful. Piol insisted it would be all right on the night, and even if it wasn't it would not spoil the show.
Eleal was sure it would be all right.
It was more than all right. It was spectacular.
Eleal had no costume to worry about in the Trastos because she sang her gods’ messenger part offstage. She did it very well, but she won no applause. Nobody was being applauded. The collection at intermission had been pitiful. In backstage whispers, the actors agreed they had never met a harder audience. The trouble might be that Trastos was a historical villain in Suss, so Sussians did not enjoy seeing him portrayed as a tragic hero. Piol had bent tradition too far.
D'ward's scene came near the end. Eleal slipped out through the bushes to sit on the edge of the crowd and watch. The doomed Trastos, having defied the gods’ command to abdicate in favor of a democracy and then challenged the rebels to send forth a champion to meet him in single combat, had now learned that this champion would be his own son, Daltos Liberator. Trong proclaimed his despair in a long soliloquy, crumbling by stages to the grass. He ended lying prone, howling out the cue: “Gods, send me courage!"
Golfren entered, wearing the golden loincloth that identified him as Tion. Even in Narsh, the audience had reacted a little to this dramatic confrontation. The Sussians sat in stony silence to hear what the god might say to rescue the evening from disaster.
"I will send you courage!” Golfren announced, and began to play. Eleal heard a few angry whispers near her. Golfren, too, sensed the crowd's displeasure, for he shortened his solo, raising the music swiftly to the rallying call that was D'ward's cue.
"I am Courage!” D'ward Scholar strode into the light of the fires, tall and lean, wearing an identical costume and holding a symbolic lantern high. How handsome he was! Surely every woman in the amphitheater must have felt her heart quicken at the sight of him! Surely every man would identify with his youthful bravado? The spectators gasped to see a god and one of his own aspects on stage together.