“Well,somethingmade him start building ships. He must plan for someone to board them, and the only place to go is through the Gates.”
Nobody challenged this point, though I could tell that Taran wished I would drop it.
“It could be Death,” I added, keeping my face straight and stern. “He’d want to recruit more priests, wouldn’t he?” I had made a real dent in their population, after all.
Taran tossed his napkin on the table.
“Stop worrying about it,” he growled. “If Death shows up on Wesha’s beach, she’ll chase him off again. And don’t worry about Smenos either—the boat’s probably for me. He built the one I took last time, and he can shove this one right back into the Mountain if he thinks I’ll go again.”
“Better you than Skyfather or one of the Stoneborn who wanted to wipe us out,” I urged him. My heart leapt at the idea that I might lure Taran home.
“Notyou, the rebels,” Taran said smoothly and incorrectly. “And alsonot me, as in, never again. Darling, please recall that the last two Stoneborn to enter the mortal world were recently assassinated? Genna is right—let them sit in their mess until they come to their senses.”
I balled up my fists beneath the table, unable to think of a way to correct him without exposing our own part in themess.
“What do you want to do?” I asked Lixnea, who was watching me with a rapt smile on her face, like a cat who heard mice in the wall. Secrets. “About the divide from the mortal world.”
“You’re the first person to ask me,” she said, with some humor and a chiding glance at the two immortals. “Not even Taran has asked—I do believe he’s forgotten why he’s supposed to be here. Well. I can see the Earth more clearly than the other Stoneborn. I see the mortals suffering for the lack of our touch and blessings, and it pains me. I also see how thin and small this place has grown without new prayers to fill it up. So, I have to say that I would prefer to return. If Smenos built ships, I would board them with my priests, and I would ask the mortals to worship as they used to.”
This didn’t seem to be a happy thought, and Lixnea folded her ancient hands together.
“But there is the question of Wesha’s Gates. I sat out the Great War, you know. My people aren’t warriors, and neither am I. Which is why I am so very old. I wouldn’t raise a hand against Wesha or the mortals who’ve rejected us, even to restore my temples.”
“And if someone else did? Death?”
I was pressing my luck with the ancient Stoneborn, and her expression cooled. “Napeth was once my beautiful youngestbrother, who welcomed the dead to their peaceful rest in the Underworld. He wasn’t always a monster. I can’t help but blame Wesha for that.”
This seemed to be a pretty way of saying that she wouldn’t do anything. That shouldn’t have surprised me, when she’d called her priests back like all the others, but it still made me angry how quick the Stoneborn were to forgive each other for the loss of mortal lives.
“A man doesn’t become a monster just because a woman rejects him,” I insisted. “Not if that wasn’t in him already.”
“Perhaps a man would not, but a god? One forever sundered from his soul’s purpose? I suspect that it improves none of us to deny who we are.” I expected her to stare me down, remind me that most gods would gladly end the life of Iona Night-Singer, who’d overseen the fall of Death’s reign on Earth, but instead her attention was on Taran, who seemed abruptly fascinated with the distant landscape.
“Excellent advice from the goddess of secrets,” he replied, pushing the bench back with a grating noise of metal on the whitewashed planks of the veranda. He stalked away, ending up at the far edge of the deck, apparently declaring the conversation over.
I followed him with a conciliatory nod at Lixnea.
It was midmorning now, and the moon-priests were waking up. I heard vocal warmups from one outbuilding, and smoke was rising from the kitchens. The quiet of the lake felt louder than it had before though. This was a small part of the Summerlands, an even smaller part of the world. I couldn’t forget the rest of it.
“I suppose we should still go,” I said in a voice that wouldn’t carry. “We know where Lixnea stands now, but we can confirm what Smenos is planning.”
I’d unthinkingly put my hand on his arm when I spoke, and Taran glared at it as though I was making an unsubtle attempt to manipulate him instead of genuinely asking what he wanted to do.
“Smenos and Wirrea’s palace is not nearly so pleasant as this, and the two of them are very boring,” he said, using the diffident voice I was not fond of. “I’m not inclined to visit.”
“I thought we were here to get Genna some intelligence on what all the other Stoneborn were doing.”
“We’re here because I thought you would like it,” Taran said gruffly. “I thought we might stay a few months.”
I blinked at him in surprise. “What? But you said—”
“I lied,” he said unrepentantly.
So this hadn’t been a mission for Genna, after all. I leaned away, anger sparking at him. “Why do you evenbotherto lie to me? You know I can’t leave.”
“Because Lixnea’s priests are happy! And you weren’t.”
“And that matters to you? I tell you every day what I want. Take me—”
