“Inentai?”
“I expect it will fall. If they are taking slaves, I expect they will do so there as well. And build a new temple. And begin taking converts to school in the holy secrets of the goddess. All of it. In the end, it won’t matter if Antea outstrips its own abilities. It won’t matter if the empire falls. The goddess will be back in the world, and men who can do what I do will be everywhere. Men with blood like mine. That is all she will need.”
“To do what? What is it she wants?”
Kit’s smile surprised him.
“Peace.”
“Peace?”
“On her terms. The death of those that oppose her. The creation of a narrow world that holds her word to be unquestioned and unquestionable. Only the world she believes and the world that I’ve experienced aren’t the same place, and so for there to be peace, the world as it is must die and be reformed into the one she dictates. They cannot both be, and so … and so she will eat the world.”
“This hairwash about the Timzinae plotting against Antea,” Marcus said.
“There were levels of initiation into the secrets of the temple,” Kit said. “Not all servants of the Righteous Servant were equal. I didn’t learn everything there was to know before I left. But the Timzinae … the story is that they aren’t entirely human. That the twelve true races are all related, and that they all rebelled against the dragons, but the Timzinae were fused with dragonets hatched early from their eggs and fashioned to resemble humanity. They were the one race that remained loyal to the dragons.”
“But that isn’t true.”
“I don’t believe it is, no,” Kit said. “But when I came out from the temple, I brought the stories with me. Timzinae sacrificing the young of other races to their ancestor dragons and so on. It was why I chose to travel to Suddapal. To live among them and see if what I had been told was … true’s a strong word. If it was plausible. It wasn’t.”
The massive disk of the sun dropped lower, touching the horizon like it was setting fire to the world. Kit glanced over at Marcus, his expression reluctant. Almost shy.
“I don’t believe this is a war, Marcus.”
“A culling, then?”
“A purification. The slaughter of a race because …” Kit shook his head, coughed, and tried again. “Because the men I used to know and love and to whom I dedicated my life for a time have a wrong idea.”
“Well, I don’t see talking sense to them about it and hoping for the best,” Marcus said.
“I can’t permit this destruction. Whatever the price, I can’t permit it.”
“Destruction’s inevitable,” Marcus said, and spat. “You do know we’re about to destroy Antea? If you’re right and their success is all based on your incarnated goddess, when we take her away, we’ll take their successes away with them, and they’re in the middle of a fight. Soldiers of Antea are just men. Some of them are bastards and some aren’t. Some have children and wives. It’s not their fault that your old pals came and made their homeland into a tool for a spider, but they’ll die because of it.”
“Or, I suppose, kill for it if we don’t.”
The angry disk of the sun slid away out of sight. For a moment no longer than two breaths together, the plain was in shadow and the mountains to the east still burned, and then the darkness took them too. The world faded to the grey of twilight and ashes.
“I don’t see there’s any choice, though,” Kit said.
“Isn’t. And since I’ve got business in Suddapal, I’d rather the place was still standing when I got there. Just didn’t want you to get your hopes up about this being clean.”
“I appreciate that. Should we keep watch tonight?”
“Always. I’ll take first, if you’re tired.”
Kit settled into his bedroll, the meat of his bent arm for his pillow. A breath of wind moved across the plain. Made visible by the shifting of the low scrub, it reminded Marcus of a vast banner. In the high darkness, stars were spilling out from behind the twilight. Already, the temperature was beginning to drop. There wouldn’t be frost by morning, but it would be cold enough that he’d be damned glad to see that same sun coming up over the mountains.
“Whatever the price, you said. You’ll lose the spiders too.”
“I expect to,” Kit agreed.
“Any idea what that will be like?”
Kit shifted to look up at the stars.
“I feel I have been astoundingly lucky,” he said. “Imagine living a life of constant eavesdropping. Of wherever you go, knowing more than the people around you intended you to. I have heard a million lies from a million lips, and I feel it’s taught me all I know of what it means to be a living part of humanity. It taught me to love.”
“Lies taught you to love?”
Kit lifted a hand, motioning Marcus to silence.
“There was a woman I saw once in a market of Sara-sur-Mar. Young Firstblood girl with a child in her arms. The child was asleep. I don’t know how they came to be there or why the child was sleeping in the marketplace. But this woman—this girl—was stroking the child’s back and saying over and over, I love you. Your mother loves you.”
“Only it was a lie, wasn’t it?” Marcus said. “She didn’t love the kid.”
“It seems she didn’t.”
“And that’s what made you love humanity? Because I don’t think I’d have taken that lesson.”
“You can’t choose who you love,” Kit said. “Or at least I’ve never been able to. A mother is supposed to love her child, but when that doesn’t come, what? That girl knew that something beautiful and profound and important had abandoned her, and so did what she could do. She lied. She told her sleeping babe that it was loved and cared for not because it was, but because she wanted it to be. Not because she cared, but because she wanted to care. And if I hadn’t carried the spiders in me, I would never have seen that. Almost every day, it seems, I’ve come across something like that. Some moment in a stranger’s life that’s unfolded before me, shown me what I wasn’t meant to see. And Marcus, there is a great nobility in ordinary people. The world disappoints us all, and the ways we change our own stories to survive that disappointment are beautiful and tragic and hilarious. On balance, I find much more to admire about humanity than to despise.”
“And if we win, you’re going to lose all that.”
“If we win, I’ll become human,” Kit allowed. “I think it isn’t so terrible a price to pay.”
They were silent for a moment. Marcus leaned forward and put a fresh twig on the fire. There weren’t enough trees in the Keshet to gather real wood, so the night was going to be spent feeding in small twigs and bits of scrub every few minutes. Kit laughed.
“And,” he said, “I’ll finally get to find out whether I’m any good as an actor.”
“Well, even if you’re terrible, I’ll tell you that you did well.”
Kit’s grin was brilliant in the gloom.
“Thank you. I would very much appreciate that.”
“Least I can do. Sleep now. We’ve got a long way still, and I want to be in those hills before nightfall tomorrow.”
Geder
I wish I could have gone too,” Aster said, pitching a stone into one of the garden pools. It struck with a dull plop and set ripples opening out across the water.
It was striking how changed the prince looked. Geder had been gone for only a few weeks on his trip to Nus and then back, but Aster seemed almost a different person—taller, thinner, more awkward in his movement. It wasn’t magic, just the normal progression of child to youth to man, but Geder had never had the chance to see that happen to someone else. And maybe there was a little magic in it, even if it was only the ordinary kind.