Jo watched Samson as he measured out a new string of line and inspected how it fitted at the ends of the bow. He tried a new knot, one she had not seen him tie before. She spoke without taking her eyes off of him. “What do you believe?”
“Do I believe in the goddess?”
Jo nodded.
“As the Grand Healer of High Luana, I’m obligated to tell you that of course I do.”
Jo snorted; she saw through him. “It’s just us, you know. You don’t have to put on an act for me.”
“It’s not an act,” Eslar said defensively. “I do actually believe that at some point, there was a goddess. After all we’ve seen, how could I not?” After a moment, he added, “Looking at you, how could I not?”
Jo had no response.
“The tree is certainly magical, that much can’t be denied. And the power is . . . great. I’ve never seen its like manifested in anyone other than Snow, Pan, you, and the arrow Samson has carried.”
“So you knew about the arrow? In the Society?” Jo clarified.
“Do you mean I had seen it? Yes, I had. And, as I said, I knew it possessed great power. I had a suspicion that it might even be a relic from Snow’s time. However, that was all it was—a suspicion. I could never find a way to affirm or deny, seeing as the truth was a mystery to Samson himself.”
Samson continued on, none the wiser to all of their discussions. Every time she watched him work, she found herself in constant awe. The man was so unassuming, yet he did everything with unparalleled mastery.
“I’m lucky you’re both on my side,” Jo blurted out.
“Pardon?” Eslar had apparently gone back to his reading, as his head jerked up to look at her.
“I’m lucky to have you both on my side.”
“Well. . .” He trailed off. Eslar didn’t seem to know quite how to handle the praise. “I certainly think you are.”
Jo gave a small laugh. “At least you teach me how to be modest.”
“I’ve taught you far more than that.”
The statement opened up a new pathway in Jo’s mind. It was something she had never quite considered before, but seemed completely obvious on review. Eslar was the oldest among them; he was the first one to join the Society and saw the rise and fall of just about every age after. He was around even when Snow was still learning what the Society was.
“Did you know?”
“Did I know what? Really, Jo, you must get better about pronouns and ambiguous questions.”
“Did you know who I was? Who Snow and Pan were? Did you know about the Age of Gods?”
“I knew about the Age of Gods, yes. Snow had told me that much when I first joined. But everything else? No. Though, I had my theories.” He leaned back in his chair, closing his book with only a slight huff of resignation. “Snow and Pan were always different—as I said, their magic was unlike anything else. And when one is granted all the time in the world, one finds oneself learning . . .a lot. And not just through history books, but by bearing witness. There’s a different sort of knowledge you gain from that.”
In just the short time Jo had spent at the Society, that was a lesson she had easily learned.
“I noticed there were some things that persisted, no matter what was wished, no matter how the world was rebuilt, and no matter who or what was in power. I imagined those things to be somewhat like the arrow. Somewhat like all of the overarching stories of divinity that seem to overlap in impossible ways—impossible, unless they were all rooted in some kind of truth. Why I imagined only certain books followed me in identical copy into the Society and why I gave them particular value.”
She had found herself following similar lines of logic in the final days of the Society. It was amusing to realize they were so close in their thinking when it seemed as if they had always been so far off in a fundamental way. “Was that why you gave me the book?”
“Yes,” Eslar said with a nod. “It was more of an experiment than anything else. I was trying to draw conclusions, see what was there. While Snow certainly wasn’t going to tell me anything, there is enough written on his face and in his actions for me to know that my senses about your magic were not off; you were different as well.”
Snow. The name was its own arrow to her heart, an arrow fletched with longing and struck from pure want.
“I want to protect him,” she whispered.
“As he wanted to protect you.”
“He wanted to protect the world.” She didn’t know why she was trying to divert the topic away from herself. Snow had told her his motivations in forming the Society: to save the world from Oblivion, certainly, but that had not been the only reason. If that had been his only motivation, then he would have merely assisted the other gods in destroying both her and Pan in one fell swoop.
