“For both of us? I could probably manage to eat two by myself at this point.”
“It’s a while to sunset.” Olvir glanced up at the clear sky to confirm it. “We still have a chance of running into dinner.”
“Your mouth to the gods’ ears. All right.” Vivian closed her eyes and brought forth her blessing. It was harder to manage with only words to give her the central target, but she thoughtthe Heart of the Battlefieldand pictured the Battlefield itself, that multicolored shifting mass that she was glad the horizon hid for a few hours longer.
All was calm for a couple breaths. Then one particular direction gained weight, pulling at her like a very gentle version of iron to a lodestone. She fixed the feeling in her mind, devoted a small portion of her awareness to sensing where it told her to go, and then opened her eyes.
“Ready?” Olvir asked, attentive but not impatient.
“That’s debatable. But I can find our way there.”
The first step Vivian took cleared away some of the snow. Red grass was bent beneath it, moisture darkening the former rust color to a shade that more closely resembled blood.
She could only hope that wasn’t an omen.
* * *
For the first few miles, Olvir let go of his worries about what lay ahead and simply enjoyed being outside. He felt a little guilty about that, in truth. The stonekin’s caverns were beautiful beyond anything he’d imagined, had saved their lives, and had been the setting for the most intense pleasure he’d experienced. The passage had gotten them down the mountain far more quickly and comfortably than an outside journey would’ve done.
Olvir was over six feet tall, though, he’d spent most of his early life in the open air, and he was human.We’re unreasonably fond of the sky, he said in a silent apology to the vanished stonekin who’d built the cavern or perhaps to the gods who’d directed him and Vivian there.But thank you for the shelter.
It would’ve been enough to see the sky stretching above them even if it had been sullen gray or raining. Instead, the storm had cleared away, leaving bright blue that stretched from the peaks of the mountains to the eastern horizon. The snow was very white against it, the trees midnight-dark.
They’d come to a land of contrasts, Olvir thought as he and Vivian walked, leaving a bloodred trail behind them. Colors were simpler. The land was flat, the trees almost square, and all that he saw seemed less complex than any of the places he’d been before—more straightforward.
Cleaner, he thought, and then:no. Only a few miles away, the first betrayal in the world had happened. Even away from the Battlefield, there likely were the rabbit holes Vivian had mentioned or some equivalent. The trees appeared solid, with leaves and bark like normal plants, so they probably died in their time as others did, and things fed on them.
Life was complicated. If it wasn’t complicated, it probably wasn’t life.
He listened to his feet and Vivian’s, crunching on the snow, and to the gentle wind blowing through the trees. As they walked on, the sun got warmer, and the snow began to melt away. A bird flew up from one of the trees, wings flashing bright gold against the peacock sky.
“It feels older here,” said Vivian. “I know Poram created it at the same time as He did the rest of the world, but…that’s not the sense I get.”
“Unchanged, perhaps,” Olvir said. “Or not changed in a long while. If this land’s ever been plowed up for wheat or the trees have been cut down to make lumber, it was thousands of years before this.” It would’ve still been unlikely that long ago. There would have been fewer people then, and the elder races didn’t farm, as a rule. “One of the lessons of Poram I read was that everything in the world changes, but mortals and gods are the ones who change things on purpose. I’d think humans are the ones who hurry those changes along the most.”
Vivian considered the point, then lifted her dark brows, curious about a new subject. “Are you supposed to read Poram’s teachings as part of your training, or was that on your own initiative?”
“We’re not required to study the other gods in depth, but…encouraged, yes, especially when the weather or our health means we can’t go out and train.” He laughed, remembering his youth. “I started with Poram because the fewest of His teachings are written down.”
That drew laughter from Vivian too. Her light soprano echoed in the clear air. “Strategically sound of you.”
“Thank you. Did the Order want you to do that sort of thing?”
“In a sense. They cared less about the gods themselves—the Four remake us, but we don’t need to understand them—but the Adeptas did want us to improve our wits and our knowledge. Mostly it was collections of legends for us, and bestiaries. Or memory games if we had company.”
“That sounds very practical.”
“Practical depends on the aim. Your training was practical for you, I’d say—understanding the gods is what we have priests for.”
Olvir held up his hands quickly, lest lightning smite him. “I don’t think any of us would say we actuallydounderstand them, not completely. We just try and try to help others to make the effort as well. I doubt any mortal can really comprehend the Four.”
“No,” said Vivian. “Honestly, I doubt that any being can completely understand any other. There’s always going to be some unknown part.” She looked ahead of them at the ancient, foreign landscape. “That’s the appeal of company, isn’t it? Maybe even of the world. The unfamiliar.”
* * *
A certain amount of the unfamiliar,Ulamir corrected.Contentment lies in mystery of well-established shape and size, not to mention the certainty that it will never bring destruction to your doorstep.
“Mostly, yes,” said Vivian and translated for Olvir. “But there are plenty of people who aren’t really content unless they’re risking their necks at least once in a month.”
