Had she been in Zen’s position, would she have declined the Demon God’s offer?
“This way, Lan,” the grandmaster said suddenly, turning his attention to her, and she shoved down her thoughts guiltily. She followed him back into the Chamber of Waterfall Thoughts, toward the open-air terrace. The sound of the waterfall grew louder, masking the din of wartime preparations out front.
The lotus lamps flickered, settling as Dé’zicame to a stop. He faced the back terrace, watching the waterfall in silence.
Lan drew a deep breath. “Grandmaster,” she tried again, “we have to evacuate. The Elantian magician brought anarmy,not simply a scouting squad. Unless you plan to pull another Demon God out of your sleeves, we cannot hope to defeat them.”
The last line was meant as a joke. Dé’zi, however, turned at this to give her a long look. It was several moments before he spoke. “There is a reason I would guard this mountain with my life, which I will explain to you.” He stretched out a hand. “Might I see your ocarina?”
Her heart began to race in her chest. She’d last channeleda lost art of practitioning through her ocarina to get past the Yeshin Noros. What if that, too, was Wayward?
“I wish nothing more than to see it,” Dé’zisaid, catching her hesitation. “It was Dilaya who first informed me that you had—what were her exact words?—‘cast a curse of music on her.’ Then Chó Tài recognized it for what it was. He recognizedyou…for who you were. For who…your mother was.”
Mouth dry, Lan reached to her waist and pulled the instrument out from the folds of her sash. The pale mother-of-pearl lotus glinted on the smooth black surface as it exchanged hands.
Dé’zilooked at it a long moment, then turned heavy eyes on her. “Many great people, some of whom were very dear to me, gave their lives to protect your mother’s legacy.”
Lan was stunned. “You knew my mother?”
He watched her with an inscrutable expression. “I did. You must have an inkling, by now, of what she wished to achieve. What she wished to protect. But perhaps it would be most conducive for us to begin with the Demon Gods themselves. Might that help?”
Lan could only nod.
“The Four Demon Gods,” Dé’zibegan, “are beings with no goal other than to seek power. They do not distinguish between good or evil; they do not have morals. They are as old as the bones of this world. In their eyes, human beings are akin to flakes of snow, our lives ephemeral, gone in the blink of an eye. We are vessels in which they may manipulate the currents of the world and further their power and their existence.”
“I thought practitioners used to bind the Demon Gods to them and channel their powers,” Lan said.
“As is stated in the first principle of the Book of the Way, power is always taken from somewhere. It does not exist in avacuum. And acquiring it always comes at a cost. Those practitioners who borrowed the power of the Demon Gods paid the price with their bodies, minds, and souls.”
“Xan Tolürigin.”
Dé’zibowed his head. “Indeed. Your mother recognized this. We once conspired to bring down the gods together.”
Her reality fractured. Breathing hard, Lan said, “All along, you have known everything? About my Seal, my past, the star maps and the ocarina?”
“Not at first. But when Dilaya told me of the ocarina and I spoke with Chó Tài, I grew certain. I simply hope it isn’t too late.” The grandmaster handed the ocarina back to Lan. He suddenly looked so old, so frail. “Tell me, has the ocarina sung to you of the Ruin of Gods?”
Lan started. The haunting melody from that night, from the memory of Shen Ài’s soul, came drifting back.
The map lies within.
When the time is right,
This ocarina will sing for the Ruin of Gods.
“Yes,” Lan whispered.
“And how does one slay a god?”
It was a question she had never considered—never even dared imagine. She had felt the power of the Demon God back at Black Pearl Lake: suffocating, all-encompassing, as though it commanded the heavens and moved the earth at the same time.
Dé’ziturned to her, and his expression was mild again. “I assume you are familiar with the history of our country. How the warring clans were united into the First Kingdom.” Lan nodded. “Have you ever considered how the First Emperor Jin—once known as Zhào Jùng, a mere general, not even a clan leader—managed to win against the most powerfulpractitioners of the Ninety-Nine Clans? Against those who channeled the power of the Demon Gods?”
At any other time, Lan might have given a quick smile, a light answer:He learned the lessons of theClassic of Warbetter than everyone else?But now she shook her head. She was in no mood for guessing games. They were running out of time.
“I can tell you there is a reason the history books do not cover this,” Dé’zicontinued. “You see, the clan bloodline that became the imperial family had a secret weapon. Much as each of the elements in the energies around us are caught in a cycle of creation and destruction, so, too, are the gods. And the Four Demon Gods are no exception. Like yin to yáng, there exists a force—perhaps more than one—to surmount them. To destroy them.
“The very first shamans of our lands took this force and made it into a weapon: the Godslayer, capable of splitting the core of power and energies that made up the Demon Gods and returning them into the flow of this world.”
