“I will see to it you suffer.”
I looked down. A small, brown grass snake lay coiled in a fold of my cloak. “I did precisely as I agreed to.”
It raised its head and its tiny mouth opened, showing its fangs. “Atehatsqe did not die in the manner prescribed, or at your hand. My word to Artau Ehat was made false. Now I am diminished in power, and the sky lord blames me for not keeping my word. And you…”
“Do I have a son?”
“Therete was certain to turn its sight to Vos Inei sooner or later. Better to have peace between me and the sky lord first.”
“You used me for your own ends,” I protested.
“Even in suffering your privilege has been astonishing. I cared for you as best I could under the circumstances.”
I gave a short, bitter laugh. “Nothing could make up for what I’ve lost.”
“Your genitals?”
“And Atehatsqe.”
“Do you think I meddled only with your sister? Do you think I did not plan for contingencies? I knew what sort of man Atehatsqe would be.”
“A good man,” I said.
“I intended that he should love you,” said the snake as though I hadn’t spoken. “I did not intend that you should love him. As for your son — remain in suspense.”
I shrugged. “We all die. Even gods, I imagine. Who will kill you, O Generous One?”
“Someone much like yourself if I am not cautious,” the snake replied.
“Beautiful thought!” I picked up the snake. It twined and curled in my grasp and I tossed it into the rain. Then I pulled my cloak closer around me and sat wondering which direction I should walk when the rain lessened, and just how long I had to live.