River plaited Ione’s hair, murmuring something to Cynthia in the gods’ tongue – either an admonishment for her bluntness, or possiblyDry her robe, because Cynthia lifted the bathing robe from the flagstones and, with a flick of her wrist, evaporated the water from it.River liked using the sacred language because, Ione suspected, it made him feel very official.
“TheCaelosiwill be temporarily rehomed,” River said to Ione then in the common tongue, ignoring the face she made.Her own mastery over the gods’ tongue was meant to emerge alongside her ascension.In the meantime, all she could confidently recite was a few basic phrases and swears.“They’ll stay here in Oseidos Shrine for the time being.”
Ione clicked her tongue.“Oseidos will be crowded, then.And here I’d hoped to visit the mainland today.You know that new salon in Lodestone?”She held up a hand, pouting.“My nails need touching up.”
He huffed.“People have died – ”
“Iknow,” Ione cut in, sending him a withering look.“Another day, another slew of deaths, another weight on my conscience.Thank you.”She unfurled to her full height, not exactly imposing, and felt Cynthia sidle up beside her.A silent support.“Do you want me to cry?To scream to the heavens for help?To throw myself in the way of some fire-starting barbarian and hope Menon finally allows me to use Her?Or will I stand in the fountain andfeelthe water for another couple of years?”
River was sterner than Cynthia – he had to be; although only two years older, he was practically raised to be Ione’s protector – but even he wasn’t made of stone.Sighing, softening, he reached for her, and Ione knocked his hand away.
“I do love you two,” she said, and she did.River and Cynthia were her only companions, and if she was kind enough, and loved them enough, then perhaps one day they would choose her over Saros.“But sometimes you especially, River, are too much Saros’s lapdog.”She pinched his cheek.“And Menon is really going to have a hard time forgiving that when She manifests.”
He shrugged, contrite.“Saros raised me.”
“The guard captain raised you,” Ione corrected him.“Saros funded it.”
“I got a very nice sword out of it.”River stepped aside, but not without a faint smile in his voice as he said, “Now let this lapdog lead you to his owner.”
Ione laid her wrist onto his outstretched hand.“Fine, but do me a favour and bite him.”
The altarhouse was devoid of its usual hordes of priests fluttering about in pearly white garments, all probably congregating at this altar or that to plan their next move in lieu of their goddess’s arrival.Mosaic murals depicting Menon commanding the ocean’s waves loomed over Ione from the alcoves punctuating the halls, and in the foyer, a grandiose statue of Ione’s great-grandfather, the Great Sage Llyr, peered critically down at her.
Ione stared back as they passed, contemptuous.Llyr Artem was said to be so powerful he could flatten forests with tidal waves or summon cloudbursts to flood entire cities.Famously, he was one of few humans in living memory who could summon Menon, entire: not just Her visage, not just Her voice, but all of Her.Infamously, he was a pacifist, refusing to use his skills for retribution.Which was rude of him, because now that was Ione’s job.
Admiring of his talents, Menon was said to have promised him innumerable gifts, from riches to immortality (and so much for that; he died long before Ione came to be), and when Ione was born with skin and hair as white as the moon, the high priests declared that this had been one of Menon’s promises: to be reborn in Llyr’s bloodline, to give the rest of them a chance at peace.This granted Ione a few good years of love and admiration before Saros started wondering if this was some sort of divine joke.
Saros’s meeting room was locatedin the eastern wing, up a few flights of stairs and at the end of a corridor lined with paintings of other important people from the history of Oseidos.She ran her fingers along a naked portion of wall where her portrait would someday hang, rubbed the dust from her fingertips, and let River hold open the door at the end of the hall.
“Hello, all,” Ione called when her parents and Saros quieted at her arrival.She strode past them to pour herself a glass of wine from the carafe sitting before an open window.She wrinkled her nose at whatever tea Saros had brewed today – something dusty-smelling, bitter; the old man was constantly at his little concoctions – and threw open the window to air out the room.
Then, hit with the stench of smoke and magic still hanging in the air outside, she sighed and pulled the window shut again.“Terribly inconsiderate of Sowelan to disrupt such a fine day.”
She sensed her parents bristling at the table.Her mother Penina and father Ronan sat side-by-side at the mahogany table, practically one figure with one brain (her mother’s, although her father sometimes valiantly formed an opinion or two).They wore abyss-blue mourning robes, too dark for Penina’s ash-blonde hair and Ronan’s fair features; Saros was nearly lost in his undecorated robe, although when he coughed into a handkerchief, Ione still caught the glimmer of fat sapphire rings on his scarred fingers.
Ione sipped her wine.“If it’s any consolation, I’ve asked Menon to send Her regards, but She remains stoic in the face of today’s tragedy.”
“I do feel consoled,” Saros said; he was too far away for Ione to see properly, but his voice had its customary evenness, sarcasm laced into a bland, pleasant tone.“But I don’t think the five hundred who’ve lost their lives are so thankful.”
The number hit her hard in the stomach.
Ione forced out an equally bland smile.“Where are the survivors being housed?”
Flanking the doorway, River and Cynthia shifted uncomfortably.But Saros sat back in his seat, letting out an old, my-lungs-hurt wheeze.“We’re still deciding.They’re rounded up in the atrium of the acolytes’ building now, with the healers seeing to them.”And then the barb: “We considered calling you, dear, but I was afraid your healing might do more harm than good.”
Ione’s mouth twisted.In a sea of hydromantic skills and spells she was mediocre at, healing was not a strong suit.“That would put a damper on things if I accidentally froze an arm off.”
“My gods!”Saros laughed, and not kindly.“But would I be impressed!”
The thing was, Ione would be, too.
She finished her wine and set the glass down.“I’ll greet them.They’re still in the atrium?”
Penina stirred.“You want togreetthem?”she repeated, like Ione had asked to play with a box of crabs.
Ione’s father Ronan took a more judicious route.“They’ve only just arrived, Bunny,” he said.“Why not let them get settled in, cleaned up?”
“It might prove helpful,” Saros murmured to Ione’s parents, coaxing.“You two have shielded her for long enough.Let her see what suffering her idleness has caused.”
