The god was behind him within seconds, colliding into bulkheads, screams in the god’s own terrible language tearing at the captain like lashes. Twice he felt the scrape of claws against his back and neck. Only his knowledge of his own ship and the damage he had inflicted on the god kept the creature from catching him and killing him short of the godchamber.
The open portal of the godchamber came into view. Tephe threw himself at it, turning as he did to see what the god had become.
The god had transformed into something insectoid. Two larger eyes, one ruined, stared unblinking at the captain, malevolent jewels. A row of smaller, faceted eyes sat above where eyebrows would have been. Jaws expanded to contain shearing pinchers, held wide. Arms had split laterally, cutting blades on each new arm where fingers had been.
Tephe lashed out at it again with the whip but without force. The god caught the whip, wrapped it around an arm and pulled it from the captain’s grip. It tossed it aside and opened its arms wide, fingerblades flashing as it prepared to tear Tephe apart.
Shalle entered the chamber and uttered a word that drove the god across the chamber and into a far wall. Tephe looked up at his lover, amazed.
“Close the portal,” Shalle said to him, staring at the god. “Get the whip. Help me.”
Tephe staggered to the portal to find Neal Forn on the other side.
“The other ships have stopped advancing,” Forn said.
“Their gods are waiting,” Tephe said.
“Waiting for what?” Forn said.
Tephe pulled the portal shut.
Chapter Eleven
“Don’t let it get out,” Shalle said. “Don’t let it near the portal.”
“No,” Tephe said, and as he did the god rushed Shalle, who spoke a word and drove the god back into the wall once more, howling.
“Drive it into the iron circle!” Tephe yelled. The god feinted toward the captain. He swung the whip around, fast and accurate. The god moved back and its attention turned toward the rook, blades twitching. Tephe moved forward, ready. The god waited for its moment to strike.
“The circle is broken,” Shalle said. “Too many of the crew lost their faith. A circle broken cannot be renewed. This god is no longer a slave. It has to be killed.”
The god wailed and flung itself at Shalle. Tephe yelled and lashed the whip. It caught the god in the abdomen, driving it to the floor. Tephe lashed it again, and once more. He drew his arm back a third time and found it held by Shalle.
“Enough,” Shalle said.
“You said it must be killed,” Tephe said.
“Yes,” Shalle said, and smiled. “But I didn’t say by you. You’ve weakened it enough for me to bind it. That’s enough.”
From the floor, the god spat blood and spoke from a mouth no longer suited for words. “Stupid,” it said. “All will die today. This ship will be destroyed whether you kill me or not. Your lord countenanced it.”
“Perhaps,” Shalle said. “But that was before you got loose. If this ship were destroyed with you within your circle, you would still be His slave and Our Lord could collect you as He would. But now you are unbound. If the Righteousis destroyed you could escape. Our Lord would rather see you dead, god. Of that I am certain. Now,” Shalle uttered another word and the god stiffened and lay immobile. “be still, creature. Your fate is coming.” The rook’s gaze went back to the captain.
“You knew the Righteouswas to be destroyed on this mission,” Tephe said.
“No,” Shalle said. “I did not. But it doesn’t surprise me now.”
“You seem unconcerned,” Tephe said, and his voice held something it had never held before when speaking to Shalle: reproach.
“Our lives are Our Lord’s, Ean,” Shalle said, lightly, and touched his face. “One day or another we meet Him and receive our judgment. If this was to be our day, would that be so bad? We have helped Our Lord strengthen Himself in the face of His enemies. We have kept the secrets of His rule secure so that His peace could continue.”
“A peace based on deception,” Tephe said.
“It is not deception to tell the faithful no more than they need to know to keep their faith alive,” Shalle said. “Our Lord has told no lies here.”
“No lies?” Tephe said, incredulous. “Our lord ate the souls of His newly faithful, Shalle. The bishops said those people were to be converted, not killed!”
“Then it is the bishopswho lied to you, Ean,” Shalle said, and then dug a toe into the supine god. “And so did this one. I know you spoke to it alone. I can guess what it told you. A story about Our Lord as a criminal, as a mad god. Right?”
Tephe nodded. Shalle smiled and touched him again.
“The god is devious, Ean. It sensed what Our Lord had done out of urgent necessity. It knew you would struggle with your faith, and knew the faith of the crew would be tested. And it knew it could break the circle of iron by breaking your faith and the faith of the crew. Think, Ean. It knew all these things. And it lies. Did you really expect it would tell you the truth?”
From the floor, the god uttered a high pitched wheeze. Tephe recognized it for what it was: A laugh, bitter and cold.
“Your faith has been tested,” Shalle said. “You passed that test. And now you will be rewarded.”
“My ship and my crew are to be destroyed to keep Our Lord’s secret,” Tephe said. “There is no reward for us. That much truth this god has told.”
“No,” Shalle said. “Because I know something it doesn’t.” Shalle pressed something into Tephe’s hand. He looked at it.
“Your Talent,” Tephe said.
“Yes,” Shalle said. “Look at it and tell me what you see.”
Tephe looked at the symbol of the Talent. It had seemed familiar before but he had not been able to place it. Now he could, and his heart sank.
“It is a Talent of Entrance,” he said.
“Yes,” Shalle said taking back the Talent. “But more than that. It is also a Talent of Obligation. A rook does many things for Our Lord, Tephe. We comfort His crews. We’re His eyes and ears. We carry His secrets. And when necessary, we call to Him and become the door through which He brings Himself. In return we are given a gift. When we call Him, we may ask Him for a thing. A wish. A promise. By His own laws, He must oblige.”
“You are going to call Him here,” Tephe said.
“To deal with this god, yes,” Shalle said. “And when I do, I’ll get my wish. And my wish is for you and the Righteousand every faithful on it to live.”
“All but one,” Tephe said.
“Yes,” Shalle said. “All but one, Ean.”
“Stop this, Shalle,” Tephe said. “Let me kill the god.”
“And then let those ships kill you?” Shalle smiled and kissed Tephe. “You silly man. You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said. Our lives are Our Lord’s. I’ve made peace with the fact that I am going to die today, Ean. One way or another. This way I get to save you. And the ship and the crew you love. You will live because of me. And that’s a comforting thought. You know how I am about these things.”
“I thought I did,” Tephe said.
Shalle kissed Tephe again, and held his face. “None of us are all of who we are to any one person, Ean. I told you that once. I’m sorry if you thought you knew all of me. But you can know this for truth. I love you.”
One last kiss, and then the rook stood apart. “Goodbye, Ean,” Shalle said, smiled again, and spoke a single word.
Tephe turned away as Shalle’s body unfolded in a veil of blood.
When he looked again, through tears, His Lord was standing there, as tall as He was at Cthicx, looking at him with mild curiosity. Tephe stepped away from the god on the floor, assuming His Lord would be more interested in it. He was not. He gazed at the captain.
YOU SHOULD BE DEAD NOW—Tephe heard in his mind.
“No, Lord,” Tephe said. “Your rook Shalle wished for you to spare me, my crew and my ship. You are obliged to grant this wish.”