“An immunity,” I say slowly. “Early exposure at low levels. Scientifically, it makes sense.”
“Nothing about this makes sense!” Nimh bursts out. Her eyes are wild, her breath ragged.
“She was special,” Jezara says simply. “Chosen. And shebelieved. It took some time before she came to call the voice in her thoughts the Lightbringer, for I don’t know that he ever named himself, but when she did …” Jezara shakes her head. “It was years too late by the time I began to wonder if the weight of her destiny had tipped her past conviction, past reason, into …”
“Madness.” Nimh’s breath catches in a sound that isn’t sure whether it wants to be a sob or a laugh. My hand twitches with the urge to reach out for her.
“I think we can safely say that’s happened,” I say.
“Yes,” Jezara agrees. “So I hid the scroll from her, realizing she could not be the one to remake the world—if she did, it would be in her image, a reflection of the hatred our people still held for me. But if that is truly her destiny … then I cannot stop it. None of us can.”
I look across at Nimh. Her gaze is hollow. She looks as though she’s been stabbed, but hasn’t figured out yet if she is dead.
Before she has a chance to reply, a bell in the corner of the room begins to ring, and Jezara whips around to look at it in consternation. “Someone’s coming,” she says. “That is my warning system. I would not be surprised if Insha has people watching this place. Her people are devoted to her, body and soul. She most likely knows you’re here.”
Nimh’s brow furrows. “We will not let you face her alone and powerless.”
Jezara’s eyes fall on her successor, a deep but brief glimpse of sympathy there in her gaze. “You’ll kill us both if she comes to find you here. That corridor leads to a tunnel that will let you out among the cliffs on the other side of the valley. I will delay them as long as I can.”
There’s a grim edge to her voice that causes Nimh’s eyes to widen a fraction. “You think she would harm her own mother?”
Jezara doesn’t reply in words, but Nimh’s answer is there in the sadness etching lines in the former goddess’s face, the way her head bows as if under a great weight.
I stow the scroll in my bag, carefully nestling the ancient document among my food and supplies. I’m not sure what use the thing will be—even if it turns out Icanread it, even if it turns out I am this Lightbringer, Inshara doesn’t strike me as someone who would listen calmly while we explained her mistake.
Nimh looks at Jezara for a long time, and the other woman gazes back at her. I wonder what they see in each other—Jezara in the girl who took her place, and Nimh in the woman who went before. They’re the only two people in this world who know what life as the living divine is like. The only two who have ever been alive at the same time to know it together.
Tension hangs between them, sharp like a taut wire.
Finally, Nimh breaks the stalemate and blurts, “How could you do it?” She swallows a sob. “Abandon your people, abandonus, for a man?”
Jezara’s eyes harden, the muscles in her jaw going tight. “I wondered how long it would take you to start blaming me.”
“No!” Nimh snaps, her eyes burning like I’ve never seen—I’m not sure I ever understood just how much her people must have hated this woman until now. “You don’t get to act like the victim. You didn’t choose to be divine, but you certainly chosenotto be.”
“You’re just a child,” Jezara snaps back, an angry flush rising in her cheeks. “You know nothing about what I’ve suffered.”
“Theyneededyou, and you left them soyoucould be happy.” Nimh pauses while she struggles to get her breathing under control. “Look howhappyyou’ve become.”
I flinch and glance at the older woman, who takes a step back as if reeling from a physical assault. Then her widened eyes narrow, her expression cold and sharp.
“Nimh,” I cut in, before Jezara can speak. “Nimh, we have togo.”
Nimh backs a few steps toward the escape corridor, though she doesn’t take her eyes from her predecessor. As if her flung accusations and questions have used up all her anger, she just looks exhausted now, eyes brimming.
“You did this to me,” she murmurs—though whether Jezara hears, I don’t know. Nimh shakes herself and ducks down into the darkness.
I turn to follow, leaving behind the cozy home that promised rest, but Jezara takes me by the arm. “They won’t kill her,” she says in a low voice. “Not right away. Inshara will want to publicly dethrone her. But they can kill you, and they will. You make her human, cloudlander, and so you make her vulnerable. Protect yourself—love will not shield you from their weapons.”
I’ve got my mouth open to protest—but Nimh’s already vanished down the corridor, and Jezara pushes me after her.
We make our way down a hallway shored up by more sky-steel beams. They remind me of the ribs of the concert hall back home, completely out of place amid the ancient stonework of Below. The hall ends in an old, half-rotten door. On the other side, we emerge into a long, dark tunnel.
Nimh casts her light spell with shaking hands. I fall into step behind her, and without speaking, we hurry through the winding turns of Jezara’s escape tunnel, the cat trotting ahead of us.
The sun is nearly setting when we stagger through the brush concealing the entrance to the tunnel. It lets out exactly where Jezara said it would—the cliff that rises ahead of us overlooks the valley, and behind us I can see the mountains on its other side where, somewhere, Jezara is holding the cultists at bay.
At least I hope she is.
