Was a god an entity or an idea? A force for creation or destruction? Something to be loved or feared—or both? And wasn’t terror inherent in worship? For Zivora’s gods, it had certainly been so.
It was Neri’s turn to say,I don’t know.
You may not have the luxury of not knowing.Even as Jacen knew he spoke truth, his heart clenched. He thought of Artek Var Naxal’s last words before the Cataclysm, echoing through time:A god is sacrifice.Despite himself, Jacen shivered.
Think carefully how you answer,he said.The fate of this world might depend on what you decide.
At that moment, another mind brushed his—just a whisper, a signal from far above. It said,We’re ready.
It was time.
A tear slipped down Neri’s cheek. He wiped it away.No matter what happens . . . I’m responsible for this world.Realization dawned on him.I’mresponsiblefor this world.He sounded very old and very tired—overwhelmed at the possibility and the horror of it.
I think that if there’s such a thing as a god, they must all go mad.
42
NECROPOLIS
YSIRA
Below Mount Otavok, a battle raged.
Ysira could only guess at what transpired, waiting by the Gate and watching the temple walls shake. All she had to go on were Commander Azaharo’s brusque exchanges with her subordinate outside. Since radiotelegraphy equipment was useless in the temple, the poor man’s only job seemed to be to run back and forth, delivering updates. He sounded exhausted and just short of panicked, but each time, so far, his message had been the same. No forces breached the inner fortress. The Shrouded City’s defenses held.
Ysira prayed they would hold long enough. She couldn’t help them. She needed to behere,ready to travel to Zal Fel as soon as Neri brought word it was time.
Eventually, Ged approached her. She allowed it, less because she wanted to be anywhere near him than because she did not trust him enough to let him out of her sight.
The last time Ysira had been this close to him, save last night at the Gate, she had been eighteen years old and pregnant.Just once, days before Neri was born, Ged had come to see her. Whatever it was he’d meant to say, he had started by touching her without warning. The feel of his possessive hand on her belly had sent Ysira into a white-hot rage. She’d twisted his wrist around until he yelled, shrieked at him to get out—and from the look of raw fury on his face, she’d thought he might hit her. Part of her wanted him to. But instead, as Ysira shrank back from him, Ged had walked away.
For an instant, today, she felt so fragile again. She hated the person she’d become—foryearsafter giving birth and leaving the Citadel—apathetic and timid, prone to weeping every time she heard a baby cry. At least the gods, for all they’d done to her, had given her power.
“So,” Ged said. “You can’t be killed, and your new lover is the Church’s most promising addict. I must admit it’s not where I imagined you’d end up.”
Ysira refused to dignify that with a response. Then he said, “I do care for our son, you know.”
Ysira did not trust herself to speak. Her hands tightened around her glaive.
“I knew this world would be cruel to him.” Ged frowned, silent for a moment. The High Lord’s markings on his forehead, smudged and beginning to flake away, crumpled. “Neri is . . . so much like me when I was a boy. I had to learn difficult lessons, and I did my best to teach him the same. And look what he’s becoming. He’ll be a god to these people, if only he can take that final step.”
Ysira didn’t bother to disguise her contempt. “You thinkyoudid that?”
“I sent him to the canyon.” Ged’s expression remained self-assured. “I shaped him. I raised him.”
“Seth raised him.” Ysira met his eyes, unflinching, and this time anger flickered deep within.
“It’s thanks to me,” Ged said, “that we’re on the cusp of a new era.” He was not exactly wrong, much as Ysira would rather bite off her own tongue than admit it. Ged would never make amends for the way he’d treated Neri, and so Ysira refused to contribute to his justifications. She snorted. “Your opinion of yourself has always been ridiculous.”
“Say what you like about me, but I’ve yet to be wrong. The last of the Zal Gatekeepers is dead or dying. Who else is there to guide Neri into the new world?You?He can’t even look at you. Brother Kheris cannot be relied upon. And Seth is gone.”
“A tragedy for you, of course.”
They had kept their voices low, mindful of the dozens of people present, but now Ged dropped all pretenses. “How dare you suggest I don’t mourn my brother?”
“Shut up,” Ysira spat. “There’s no need for posturing. Not with me. I know what you are. I saw what you did—cutting off your beloved brother’s sword hand after he was already defeated. You’re small, and you’re pathetic, and you will never be what you imagine yourself to be.” Ged was angry now, so angry that, close as they were, she could practically feel the heat off his skin. His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword.
“Try it,” she said. “See if you can harm me. You might even make it hurt. But you won’t be able to protect yourself from all these people”—she gestured—“who have been anointed with my blood. Who are loyal to Neri. Do you really believe he’ll supportyou, given the choice?”
