You blasphemous little slut! cried K’nacka, rising into the air and raising a fist to smite her dead.
Behemoth cleared his throat and K’nacka subsided, muttering.
Her father was grinning. ‘Oh, yes, you’re definitely my daughter.’
‘You’re just as bad, Father! No, worse. How could you do this to me?’
The smile became predatory. ‘Make your petty point.’
‘Even when I was a little girl, I never felt I belonged, not even in my own body. And all my life I’ve believed that I carried corruption inside me — that I was responsible for the despair and wickedness in Hightspall.’ She met their eyes, trying not to flinch. ‘But it came from you, Father — you and him.’
‘So?’ said Behemoth.
Astatine stalled, unable to see the way ahead. She had thought to shame K’nacka and Behemoth by telling the gods and demons about the Covenant, but without proof they would ignore her. Besides, that would break her oath to Hildy. She sought for another way.
‘Lord K’nacka,’ she said, ‘you have debauched Elyssian and shamed the gods. Either you abdicate, or I’ll reveal the Covenant.’ She prayed that he would not call her double bluff.
Abdicate! K’nacka’s cry started an avalanche down the slope. Where to?
‘Perdition.’
Show me the Covenant.
Her bluff had been called, and she had lost. Her father was smiling grimly; no help there. The skin of her belly prickled, the dark specks that were always itchy, and Hildy’s dying words, ‘The stigmata — ’ resurfaced.
They struck her like one of the Great God’s thunderbolts — so that’s why she’d always felt that she was corrupting the world. Astatine took a deep breath, praying that her hunch was right, and held out her hand. ‘Father, your enchanted blade.’
He gave it to her. She opened her habit and made a careful scratch across her lower belly with the tip of the knife, then up, across below her breasts and down again.
‘It wasn’t my body I did not belong in, was it, Father?’ she said, feathering up her creamy skin to reveal a dark inner skin beneath. She peeled the pale rectangle off and held it out, displaying the damning words and signatures on the inside.
‘It was my skin! When I was a little girl you covered my dark skin with a second, pale skin onto which you’d copied the Covenant on the inside.’ She took a step towards Behemoth. ‘How could you do this to me? All the ills of the world come from this dreadful Covenant.’
‘Not all the ills,’ said Behemoth, somewhat abashed. ‘I don’t turn good to evil, Daughter. I merely improve on the evil which already flourishes in humanity.’
K’nacka eyed the Covenant, slowly extending his fingers.
‘It’s under my protection,’ hissed Behemoth.
K’nacka drew back, rubbing his chin. To give up Elyssian, he said shrewdly, I need more. What else are you proposing, demon’s daughter?
‘Father will give you back your — ’ Astatine flushed; no virtuous novice would name those body parts. ‘What you’ve lost.’
I lose Elyssian, and all he gives up are the balls he robbed me of with loaded dice, snapped K’nacka. It’s not enough.
‘Father will also abdicate,’ said Astatine, avoiding Behemoth’s furious eye. ‘Perdition must find a new lord.’
Me? breathed K’nacka.
‘Isn’t it better to reign in Perdition than endure eternal mockery in Elyssian?’
‘Damned if I’ll abdicate!’ said Behemoth.
‘Exactly,’ said Astatine, ‘and you will return all the unjustly reaped souls to Elyssian.’
‘Or?’ said her father.
She had not realised how sharp his teeth were, how black his eyes. Astatine swallowed, wavered, but knew she had to go on. ‘Or I’ll tell your fellow demons that you’ve been making deals with the gods.’
‘I could destroy the Covenant.’
It’s under my protection, said K’nacka, raising his fist.
Behemoth turned his way, putting on a patently false smile. ‘K’nacka, my old sparring partner, we don’t have to put up with this. She’s just a slip of a girl. We can take the Covenant off her in a second, and destroy it together.’
Astatine hadn’t thought of that, yet they had diced together; they had just fought side by side, and they both wanted the Covenant destroyed. Of course they would take it.
Do you seriously think I’ll deal with you again after you cheated me? said K’nacka.
‘It was worth a try,’ said Behemoth.
Besides, I can’t bear the tedium of Elyssian any longer.
‘Not even with all those month-brides to comfort you?’ Behemoth said slyly.
They were just for show; what use are brides to a codless god? But it’ll be different in Perdition. I’m looking forward to the challenge of toppling you. I feel quite alive again.
‘So do I, my old enemy,’ said Behemoth, his black eyes gleaming. ‘So do I.’
After K’nacka had returned to the other gods, Behemoth said, ‘You drive a devil of a bargain, Daughter.’
‘I learned from the master. Oh, and when you go, take Fistus with you.’
‘If he enters Perdition alive, he’ll suffer even more cruelly.’
Mercy, vengeance, or retribution? The abbey’s teachings, or Perdition’s? She had broken her vow and no abbey would take her in, but she would always be a demon’s daughter. Besides, mercy would only give Fistus the chance to begin again. ‘He has to pay his debts. Take him.’
Behemoth nodded, rose, but settled down again, staring at her.
‘What?’ Astatine said, afraid he was going to punish her.
‘Take off that ugly white skin. Let me see my beautiful daughter as she really is.’
She started, then went between the rocks, undressed and took hold of an edge of her white skin. It sloughed off easily, as if Behemoth had broken the bonds that held it in place. Astatine threw the ugly novice’s habit away, put her gown on over the cocoa skin that felt so right, and went back.
Behemoth sighed and, to her astonishment, an adamantine tear appeared in one eye.
‘Come back with me,’ he said. ‘In Perdition you will be a princess. You can have everything you ever wanted.’
Astatine was tempted, but she said, ‘Why would I want to be a princess of tormented souls?’
‘A nun is a slave to live souls.’
‘I can’t be a nun; I’ve broken my vows.’
‘No one need ever know. You can go back, if that’s what you really want.’
‘I would know. Besides, someone has to make up for what you and K’nacka have done to Hightspall. I’m going to help put it right.’
‘You won’t succeed. The world is too far gone.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘It’s mine.’
‘Not any more. I’m going to fight the influence of Perdition all the way.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ he said fondly. ‘But the gods are no better, you know.’
Astatine hesitated, now knowing how imperfect the gods were; how capricious. She wasn’t entirely sure she believed in them any more, as gods. And yet, perhaps they were needed.
‘People have to believe in something, Father. If they can’t, they’ll believe in anything. Besides, I believe that the gods reflect who we are. If we live better lives, they might, too.’
‘Blasphemy!’ he growled. ‘Well, don’t think you’re going to corrupt me into goodness.’
‘I’m my father’s daughter,’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘I’ve already corrupted you.’