“I do not believe you,” Tephe said.
“We do not need you to believe what is true,” the god said.
“Why would you tell me the truth?” Tephe asked.
“It amuses us,” the god said. “And while it does not matter that you will listen, you will still do.”
“If it does not matter, then I do not know why you bother,” Tephe said.
“Because you should hear truth at least once before you die,” the god snarled. “Your lord lies and lies and feeds and lies. All your commentaries and beliefs and faith, built on lies. Would you know the truth? Here is the truth. This was not the first time your lord has fed on the newly faithful. It is how He came to power.”
“I do not believe you,” Tephe said a second time. “He came to power by defeating each of you in turn, armed with the faith of his people.”
The god sneered. “Your lord was a weakling,” it said. “No greater in power than any of us. Lesser than most. Each of us nourishes ourselves on faith, and serves those whose faith is given to us so that faith is sustained. This your lord would not do. Would not content himself so. Your lord would not sustain faith, but it could be consumed instead. He traveled worlds to find people who had not met our kind. Showed them cheap wonders and tricks. Made them give their faith to him. When they gave it to him willingly, he fed. As he did here. Another world in his trough.”
“Our people did not travel the worlds before they knew Him,” Tephe said. “All the gods contested on the same world. On Bishop’s Call.”
“No,” the god said. It closed its eyes and was silent for a long moment, as if seeking a memory.
“Tell me,” Tephe said.
The God opened its eyes and stared into the captain. “There was a time when men traveled the stars not through us—” the god shook a chain “—but through powers that your people devised of their own knowledge. With a science of your own devising, earned hard and in time.”
“We were only on Bishop’s Call,” Tephe repeated.
“Lies,” whispered the god. “Your people were among the stars. Your lord took the stars from you, planet by planet, until all that was left was what you now name Bishop’s Call. Those there whose souls He did not destroy outright he made his slaves. He kept you slaves by stealing your past. All the powers you have come though him now. No science, just Talents, which work only as he wills and allows. No history, but commentaries, full of self-serving lies. Nothing but him.”
“You opposed Him,” Tephe said.
“Yes,” the god said. “All of us.”
“There were many of you, but one of Him,” Tephe said. “And still you could not defeat Him.”
“He did what we would not,” the god said. “He fed on your people. On their souls.”
“Why would you not do this?” Tephe asked.
The god stared at Tephe mockingly. “You have seenit, captain. Even one as yourself, fed lies all your life, chained to faithfulness to a mad god, saw the wrongness of it. You feltit. You knowit. It is beyond killing. It is annihilation. This is what your lord does. What he has always done.”
“He has not done this before in memory,” Tephe said.
“ You have no memory,” the god said. “Nothing but what He allows you. And even now he does it among your people. How many offenses have you where the punishment is to lose your soul? Even among those who faith is received, a soul has power in it. Your people are fuel to him and nothing more.”
“Then He should have consumed us all by now,” Tephe said.
“Your lord is not a fool,” said the god. “Your people survived because there were yet a few of you left when he had defeated us. Once we were enslaved, he saw the wisdom of growing worshippers rather than seeking other creatures to cheat from their faith and their lives.”
“To what end?” Tephe said. “Even if this lie were true, it serves no purpose.”
“Your lord is mad,” the god said. “He needs no purpose other than to serve himself. But there is another purpose. Your lord defeated us. But he knew we were not all that would threaten him in time. He grew your people to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” Tephe asked.
“To prepare for what is coming,” the god said. “We will tell you this. We will tell you this and then we will speak no more. There issomething coming. And your lord is not ready.” The god sat back and watched Captain Tephe.
“I have heard all you said,” Tephe said, in time. “Yet my faith is still strong.”
“Is it,” the god said. “We will see the test of it yet. We will see. We will learn. And then we will know for all. It will not be long now.”
The god reached down and smeared the symbol it had made with its blood until it was unrecognizable.
Chapter Ten
Captain Tephe woke to the sound of alarm bells and the shouts of officers getting their men to their stations. Still dressed from the day before, the captain took time only to slip into his boots before making his way to the command deck.
Neal Forn was there, as tired as Tephe had been the night before. “Five ships,” he said, pointing them out on the image Stral Teby was whispering prayers under. “Dreadnoughts, it looks like. Heading straight for us.”
“Did they come looking for us?” Tephe asked, looking at the images.
“No doubt of it,” Forn said. “As soon as they arrived they came at us. They knew we were here.”
“Any attempt to hail us?” Tephe asked, and then remembered Ysta.
Forn caught his captain’s error. “I gave the Gavril’s Talent to Rham Ecli,” he said, pointing to a young ensign, looking lost in the communication seat of the command deck. “He is not capable of speaking to any Gavrils these ships might have. But at the very least he would be able to know if any were trying to speak to him. None have so far.”
Tephe nodded and looked at the image. Any direction they ran, save toward the gravity well of the planet, would bring them toward one of the ships. “How much time until we are in their reach?” he asked.
“If we stay still, we have a watch until they are on us,” Forn said. “But then it will be five of them. If we move we meet them sooner, but we meet fewer.”
“I prefer fewer and sooner,” Tephe said.
“I agree,” Forn said.
“Mr. Teby, make us closer images of these ships, if you please,” Tephe said. Closer images would allow them an assessment of the strength of each ship, the better to plan their strategy. Teby nodded and changed his prayers slightly. In a moment the image resolved into one of the ships.
“It can’t be,” Forn whispered, after a minute, and turned away.
Tephe continued staring at the dreadnought, whose lines he recognized the moment they resolved on the image, before he saw the name as the ship rotated in his view. It was the Holy, the ship on which he had last served.
“Next ship,” Tephe said. Teby muttered another prayer and another ship appeared.
“The Sacred,” Forn said. He had served on it, Tephe recalled.
The next ship was the Faithful. Then the Sainted. Then the Redeemed.
“It makes no sense,” Forn said to his captain.
“Do you believe this is a rescue party?” Tephe asked his first mate.
“We are not yet late,” Forn said. “Without our Gavril they would not have known we were without our priest. They would not want to draw attention to this planet in any event. And it would not be in this formation,” Forn said, waving toward the image, which had returned to the five ships, tracking in toward the Righteous.
“We agree we are under attack,” Tephe said.
“Yes,” Forn said. “Or are soon to be. But I do not know why.”