FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The goddess of death kept her home darker than Sadik would've liked.

Curtains had been draped across columned archways, blocking the view of a terrace. An oculus at the top of a domed ceiling was overgrown with vines and wooden capillaries. Braziers sat unlighted and cold. Behind them, the double doors swung shut with a hurried pace, as if they were afraid to bring wind and light.

The only illumination here was feeble, crawling in through cracks and gaps. Below the vine-choked walls, Sadik saw hints of urns, wardrobes, a braided carpet, the high-posters of a regal bed. In the dimness, it was nothing more than vague shape.

Light had been shunned from this place. And, yet, it had managed to enter, all the same. Despite the curtains, despite the xylem blocking the ventilation above, the sun had managed to pierce the gloomy veil, preventing darkness from taking hold. Sadik found some comfort in the thought.

“The lounge," Kavaia said, gritting her teeth.

He helped her over to a couch. It was longer than a skiff, made of animal skin and carved wooden legs. She collapsed into the furniture with a gasp.

“The sap." She waved a hand off into the dimness. “Bring me a flagon."

Sadik turned his head to follow her gesture. He saw only shadow and form.

“Have you not the eyes of a hunter?"

He twisted the haft of Dusksong. Yellow light burned away the shadows. “I make my own light, goddess."

He saw a trunk of phloem bisecting a wall. It was the size of several chimneys. Next to it, there were cups and corkscrews lying on a table. Sadik moved over to the vascular tissue, twisted a metal handle jutting from the wood, and placed a flagon below. Amber liquid seeped from the wound. It was as thick as honey, sparkling like the stars.

As the viscous liquid poured, the dark room was filled with the sound of hissing blood. Kavaia did her best not to scream.

When the flagon was full, Sadik carried it over to the goddess. She was gripping the back of her couch hard enough to crack the wood, her throat bulging with every breath. The wound in her thigh was gone.

“My thanks."

She took the flagon and upended it over her maw. The sap seemed to pour like molten steel. As she drank, Sadik saw movement on the lime colored skin above her breasts. There were bubbles crawling beneath the flesh, bulging and crossing in vague patterns. It took him a moment to realize she had broken several ribs during Rushan's assault. The bones were almost spinning inside of her.

“Were you wishing for a closer look?"

Her saffron eyes burrowed into him, reflecting the light of his sword.

“Forgive the inattention," Sadik said. “My day has been rather extraordinary."

She adjusted the brassiere beneath her bloody dress. “That does not answer my question."

“I suppose not."

“Must you dance around my every word?"

Sadik met her gaze. He did not answer.

“Ah," Kavaia said, a rumble lining her voice. “I see the fire beneath your manners. It is quite radiant."

He allowed himself a slight edge of anger. “Perhaps I hid it too well, goddess."

“Quite the contrary." She grimaced. He could still hear the hissing of her injuries. “My apologies. Sadik. That was your name."

“As it was my father's before."

“Should it mean something to me? It seemed to mean much to Rushan."

“I'm not sure, goddess," Sadik said. “That would depend on your allegiance."

“Allegiance?" She spoke the word as if she'd been insulted. “Death has no allegiance."

“Lately, it seems to concern some more than others."

“Mortal," Kavaia said, her teeth bared with anger and pain. “Since you say I saved your life as a boy, and you were clearly a guard of Kohav Yaran, I trust you are familiar with my divine providence."

He did not answer.

“I am hated by man and god alike. I receive no quarter, suffer no friends. It is a necessary sacrifice. I must work to ensure the sanctity of life by maintaining the cycle of death, no matter the cost to those who pass. Over the centuries, thousands have beseeched me for aid. Many more have prayed for vengeance. I have denied them all. Never broken my vows. Even the gods may not sway me from my providence, and they will always loathe me for it." She batted a neme from her face. “I may be feared and despised, but no one may doubt my commitment to duty. Shouldn't that have earned some faith, on your part?"

Sadik was unperturbed. “I am aware of your neutrality, goddess. That is exactly my concern. You would not have brought me to the pantheon if you were still impartial. You are serving another god, are you not?"

She did not answer.

“I am hunted by the Vizier," he said. “You may be ignorant of my identity, but your fellows are not. My presence would prove a boon for anyone who could present me to the Demokrats. I could not be certain that was not your intent." He straightened himself. “May I speak candidly, goddess?"

“It seems you already are."

“You asked me to trust me your intentions, if not your actions. I'll ask you to explain yourself to the fullest. Otherwise, you should not expect me to serve any further."

She leveled her ancient gaze upon him. Sadik was not intimidated. He had met many before.

After a long moment, she managed a few short laughs. They barely bulged her throat. “It seems a lack of trust has damned us both."

“I believe I was kidnapped, actually."

“I believe you owe me a life debt, as well."

“Kavaia," Sadik said, emphasizing the name. Not long ago, addressing a god by their name would've had him flogged. “Bless me with an explanation, if you would."

The crocodile watched him for a long moment. Slowly, she reclined against the back of an armrest. After drinking the sap, her movements did not seem quite as pained. “I knew Rushan would ambush us. Because of this, I kept you ignorant as a means of protection." She waved a hand. “You saw his temperament. How quickly he resorted to violence."

He remembered how easily the jackal had thrown her into a wall. He had shattered a stone column as if it had been no more than chalk.

“You were safer as an unwilling servant than a knowing accomplice. If Rushan had brought you before Lanir for interrogation, the fault would lie with me. She would gaze into your soul and see the truth of your ignorance. You would be released without harm." She unpeeled the bloody linen from her stomach. “Of course, the revelation of your identity changes matters. If only you had informed me when I asked."

He wiped hair away from his eyes. “Should the hare reveal itself to the hawk, if the latter should ask for help? What fate could he predict but death?"

“Perhaps the hare should not fire sunbeams at the jackal, if he's concerned with safety."

Sadik shook his head, gazing off into a dark corner. “The lie was not for my sake. I lead the Sons of Sorrow, the last vestiges of those who served the true Vizier. They are rats in a bloody sewer. Starving for food and Glimmer. Hoping that passion will make up for a lack of training. I have given them an ember of light, and I will not let anyone take it from them again. For their sake, I must return as soon as possible."

Kavaia made a noise in her throat. “Your words are hollow."

“Pardon me, goddess?"

“I saw your battle from the river." She gestured at Dusksong. “Your glowing candlestick made it difficult to ignore. You stood on a rooftop, gazed out at all the ways you might escape, and decided to reveal your position."

Shouting through the bloody rain.

“I did not see concern for the rebellion when you fought. There was only rage. I saw the same reckless abandon when you stood against Rushan."

Drifting through the river.

Peace.

“You try to cloak yourself in duty. It is a brittle shell."

He lowered his gaze, letting his unkempt hair fall across his face.

There was a creak of wood. Stretching fabric. When he looked again, the goddess had leaned off the edge of the couch, still managing to tower above him. There was a glimmer in her eyes that had not been there before.

“Sadik. I am. . . ." She paused, choosing her words. “I am grateful for your assistance. Truly. I have given you unreasonable demands, more than could be expected of most, and you have borne these burdens with grace. I. . . ." She fingered a silver bracelet. “I am desperate. I would not have asked if there was not great need."

The flayed body of Ilios. The raging debates. A furious god of war.

“If you had told me who you were, I would never have brought you here. I had no intention of causing you harm."

“Goddess," Sadik said, hardening himself. “Why did you bring me here?"

For a moment, she did not respond. She was sitting alone on a couch. Her clothes were bloody. Her home was silent and dark. The curtains were drawn, the braziers unlit. Kavaia, goddess of death and renewal, was surrounded by nothing but dust and darkness.

“. . . I thought you would understand."

The sentence echoed through the chamber. Man and god watched each other in a spreading silence.

A knock came at the door.

In an instant, Sadik had fallen to a knee, angling the broken mouth of Dusksong at the entrance. Yellow energy pulsed and surged.

“Patience," Kavaia said.

Another knock came. Several more followed, coming at an irregular rhythm.

“Let them in. They are allies."

Sadik glanced between her and the shadowed bronze of the doors. His sword was aching to fire.

“Please."

With a stifled grunt, he rose to his feet and made for the entrance. The door handles were nearly at head height. It required all his strength to pull them apart.

There were three gods standing on the other side. Xaeyr, the baboon god of the cataracts, stood at the front, his light blue toga swaying in the breeze. He seemed surprised when a face did not emerge at eye level. Once he lowered his gaze, and saw a mortal looking back up at him, the small moon above his head began to glow brighter.

Sadik bowed his head, using Dusksong to gesture them inside.

Xaeyr blinked. After a moment, he took the invitation. The other two gods—a four-limbed hyena and a lion bristling with snakes—followed him into the chambers. Sadik took a moment to glance down the hallway, making sure no one else was watching, before pushing the doors closed.

The baboon charged into the room, his bare paws silent on the carpet. “What in Nema's leafing fuck have you done?"

“Such a way with words," Kavaia said, leaning back against the couch. She spoke as if their private conversation had never occurred. “Xae, you must join the orators."

“Silence! I have been humiliating myself upon that podium for hours! And no sooner are the speeches over that I see the man himself, Rushan the mighty, come sprinting down with his minions—" Xaeyr stopped. The moon above his head illuminated Kavaia's bloody form. “Silty marsh, what happened to you?"

“I have found a new ally. He required healing."

Four gods looked to Sadik. Three of them were suspicious. All of them were nearing twice his height.

Xaeyr's eyes widened. His moon blazed like a star. “Neven, Kronn. Check the room. Make sure we're alone."

The hyena and lioness began to move through the bedchamber. Neven conjured gales of wind in each of his four arms, sucking the dust from urns and wardrobes. The snakes wriggling through Kronn's body scattered across the room, wriggling behind furniture and ripping out the vines on the wall. As the search continued, braziers were lighted, erasing the shadows and darkness.

“Is that paranoia?" Kavaia asked. “The Exalted would not surveil me inside my abode. They are neutral."

“They are not," Xaeyr replied. “Rushan is talking to Lanir as we speak. By current accounts, he's doing a fantastic job of painting you as a traitor."

“That's absurd!" She attempted to stand, clutching at her chest. “I have remained outside these petty factions—"

Xaeyr held up a hand, watching his two companions. He did not relax until they had blown every trace of dust out through the archways. Sadik appreciated the thoroughness. Even the tiniest speck of an Exalted could record their conversation.

“You have fucked us," said the god of the cataracts. “I gave you a simple task, a simple role to play, and you could not have fucked us any harder!"

“Xae," Kavaia said, “I succeeded. I have been to the river. The graveyard of ships—"

“Silence! Do you have any idea who this mortal is?"

Sadik made his way over to Xaeyr's hip. He began to tie his hair back into a loose ponytail.

“Clearly," Xaeyr said, “you do not. Otherwise, you would not have brought a man such as him within several leagues of these branches." The moon above his head illuminated Sadik, like a spotlight upon a stage. “This mortal is Sadik Umayyad Zareb, former member of the Luminous Path, current leader of the rebellion against the Vizier, and now the most wanted man in Acheron. He has been declared an enemy of the gods! He assaulted the palace mere hours ago! And you've brought him to our sacred pantheon like some stray dog taken in from the bloody rain!" He glanced down at Sadik. “Pleased to meet you, as it happens."

“Actually," Sadik said, “we've met several times."

“Have we? Must've been nothing but ceremony. My apologies."

“The last was the solstice ceremony. I believe you told me the wine was overly spiced."

“Oh, yes, there was cinnamon. I was choking with every swallow."

“The Vizier insisted on the recipe."

“And may whoever receives her Glimmer be blessed with better taste."

Sadik cleared his throat. “I must say, my lord, I am surprised at the warm welcome."

“It seems we're all being surprised today," Xaeyr said, glaring down at Kavaia. “Some more than others."

The crocodile gestured at Sadik, rattling her bracelets. “I saved his life. He was on death's door, sinking into the muck in front of me. If I had not given him aid, he would not be drawing breath."

“Oh," Xaeyr said, throwing up his furry hands. “Excellent. Impeccable. Not only have you brought him to our humble tree, but you aided and abetted his crimes against the palace! Is that your defense?"

She settled her gaze on Sadik. Her eyes danced with the twin lights of Xaeyr's moon and Sadik's sword.

“You were not there," Kavaia said. “The river was a miasma of death. Nothing but blood and rot. Dozens of souls lining the bottom, buried under ship and silt. In the shells of their armor, the bodies were swollen with pus, the fleshless skulls twisted in agony. The limbs still swayed in the current, as if clawing for life. There were so many to harvest. Every time. . . ."

She looked away. Xaeyr folded his arms.

“Every time, the Glimmer would bring visions. A taste of death. For hours, I felt as if I was being dashed by cannons, scored by sunspears. Many had simply drowned, pulled down by the weight of their armor. Tell me, Xae, do you know the agony of suffocation? Do you know the desperate fear one feels as they sink beneath the currents? Would you like to feel that pain for hours on end, experiencing every death as if it was your own?"

The baboon remained silent.

“I did not know who he was," Kavaia said. “It hardly mattered. I had spent so long harvesting the dead, taking their suffering as my own. When I saw him sink below the current, bleeding as the others had bled, I. . . ." She rubbed the palms of her hands. “I intervened. I could do nothing else."

Sadik felt each of the gods give him furtive glances.

“The mortals are suffering, Xae."

Xaeyr sighed, dragging his hands across his furless cheeks. “I know. Nema above, I know it well."

“Rushan must be stopped," Kavaia said. “At all costs."

Xaeyr turned to face the mortal at his hip. “Sadik, I must apologize. My—" He waved a cream-colored arm at Kavaia, loosing a growl. “My companion should not have brought you here. She's placed you in great danger."

Sadik looked silently between the two gods.

“You must know," Xaeyr said, “that we have not abandoned the city. The cries of the mortals have not been unheard. The Demokrats slaughtering their brothers, the endless coups in the palace. We have seen it all. Many of us support your resistance against the revolution. You have done much to keep the stars alight."

Sadik could only blink in response.

“The gods are yearning to help. We need only deal with the traitors within our walls." His moon grew dim. “We will not fail you for much longer."

It took Sadik a moment to speak. “Thank you, my lord. The sorrows have been . . . unending."

For a moment, Xaeyr placed a hand upon his shoulder. His fur was soft, his squeeze gentle. Sadik was forced to bow his head, lest they see the expression on his face.

“May I speak freely?" he asked.

“I'd say we're beyond formality."

“The situation is dire," Sadik said. “Thousands are dead. Many more are starving, lacking the most basic dose of Glimmer. Plague has ravaged the city without any sign of abatement. What's more, the siege of the warlords is slowly whittling down the barriers. If they fall, we will be defenseless."

Xaeyr removed his hand. “We've promised to lend aid. That was not spoken lightly."

“Forgive me," Sadik replied, “but promises are empty. The graves are not. Many more will be filled if nothing is done."

All four of the gods looked away, settling their gaze on furniture and corners.

“The fate of the city is at stake!" Sadik shouted, surprised at the anger in his voice. He couldn't hold it in any longer. “You may be blessed with sunlight and gardens, but, down on the surface, blood is drowning the streets! Entire districts have been lost to plague!" He waved a hand at each of them. “What have you been doing all these weeks? What is this travesty that I've witnessed here? This—this—this bickering and petty strife! How could you have become so impotent?"

“It is not that simple," Kavaia said.

“The sun has been murdered! Your followers are dying! Where is your response?"

“Rushan has declared a cordon," Xaeyr said. “None of us have been allowed to leave. A soldier such as you must've witnessed him in battle. Do you think any of us have the strength to defy his orders?"

Sadik lowered his gaze to the braided carpet, tightening his grip on Dusksong.

“Ilios shocked us all." Xaeyr folded his hands behind his back, lightly pacing back and forth. “Deicide has been committed before, but it was always swiftly punished. This time, the Neheamatt was silent. She gave us no guidance. No sign of her will."

He scratched his furry chin, deep in thought.

“We did not know if we should act. Was the silence meant as approval? Had Ilios committed a crime?"

“He did not," Sadik said, firmly. “I've fought with him. He was an example to us all."

“That was our opinion, as well," Xaeyr said. “But, then, if the sun had truly been slain with ill-intent, why had the killer not been exposed? Who would benefit from such a transgression? And, perhaps more importantly, who would be next?"

“It was unprecedented," Kavaia said. “If justice was not delivered, it would shatter the peace between the gods. The pantheon would become lawless. Crumble like a bird's nest, right from the branches."

Sadik remembered the sight of Ilios hanging above an atrium. Flesh contorted into a mockery of heroes.

“I apologize," he said, bowing his head. “I should not have raised my voice."

Xaeyr snorted. It had all the humor of a man facing the gallows. “Not undeserved, I think."

Sadik placed a fist over his heart. “I will still serve, my lord. But . . . I expect service from the gods in kind. Such are the terms of the compact."

“So it is," the baboon said. “I cannot guarantee your safety, but I will do my best to keep you from harm. We will have you brought to a nearby shelter, and, Nema willing, you will be far from these branches before the day is done."

Kavaia stood from the couch. Despite the blood staining her dress, there were no wounds left on her body. “I have brought him here for a reason. He is part of the plan."

“Oh. Yes. Excellent. Let us circle back to this thrilling subject. Why have you dragged this poor mortal into the sky?"

“I knew Rushan would follow my movements," Kavaia said. “Avoiding him was impossible. He knows my passages. All my proclivities. If I left the pantheon to harvest Glimmer, he would not remain ignorant." She rubbed a silver bracelet. “Once the turtle rolls on its back, its weakness is exposed."

“Yes, yes," Xaeyr said. “We've heard the metaphors. Get on with it."

“Thus, knowing that he would suspect my real intentions, I decided to play into his jealousy. If I could not stop him from discovering our plan, I would make sure his attention was divided. I know him well. He would focus on matters of the heart, first and foremost." She gestured at Sadik. “This mortal became the key to this."

For a moment, the only sound was fire crackling in the braziers.

“Silty marsh," Xaeyr said. “You want to fuck this man."

“It is not what I want," Kavaia replied. “It is what I need. There is a difference."

Sadik felt his jaw begin to drop.

“You softscaled harlot! You brought Acheron's most wanted man into your abode so you could fornicate with him!"

He had assumed that Rushan's accusations were mere jealousy. He hadn't actually expected. . . .

“I've explained my reasons," Kavaia said. “I did not act without thought." She tugged on her urakh collar. “It was merely . . . ignorance."

“Ignorance?" Xaeyr gazed up at the leafy ceiling, as if he might found the words there. “Right now, Rushan is in conference with Lanir, accusing you of harboring known criminals. If the dragon believes him, she will send the Exalted to arrest us all. My legion, the men currently waiting in strategic positions around the pantheon, will find themselves defenseless. Weeks of scouting, deliberation and bribery will be ruined with a single order. The only chance we have of stopping Rushan may slip right from our fingers. And you say it is ignorance that has given him an easy path to victory?"

She did not answer.

“Nema above," Xaeyr said, “I'm sure Rushan laughed himself silly once he realized what you had done."

“I know the jackal," Kavaia said. “He is rash. Impatient. Mating with this mortal will drive him to fury. It will give you the distraction you need. I would bet my life on this."

“You have bet all of our lives on this."

“Xae. Have faith."

The moon above the baboon's head moved in silent orbit. “I can see the merit of your choice, Kavaia. You have done a good turn by saving his life. For that, Acheron is in your debt."

She raised her chin in silence, black and gold nemes dancing across her collar.

“However," Xaeyr said, “through an astonishing lack of judgement, you have fucked us. You have fucked our entire coup into nothing but sap and wind."

“I did not know who he was."

“Look at him! Do you not see the mark of the Luminous Path upon his face? The royal sword adorning his back? Silty marsh, did you even ask for his name?"

“The cults of the mortals are not my concern," Kavaia said, evenly. “I must remain ignorant of politics. Death must be impartial. If I were to ingratiate myself upon the Vizier, and learn the culture of the people, they would all ask favors of me. Save this one here, eliminate the other there. Every judgement I made would be marred with bias. The cycle of life would be sullied by plots and scheming."

Xaeyr's fangs were visible as he clenched his jaw. “Goddess. The time for neutrality ended with Ilios. Anyone who stands apart will find themselves standing alone. We are relying on you, just as you are relying on us. If a single link breaks, the chain will fall. Do you understand?"

“Do not speak to me as if I'm a child. I am your elder by a century."

“Once you display more wisdom than a child, I shall consider doing so."

She stood beneath his moonlight, the blood on her dress shining with her slitted eyes. After a moment, she lowered her gaze. “I'm sorry, Xae. It was a mistake."

“Do not apologize to me," the baboon replied. “Apologize to Sadik. You've dragged him from one grave to another."

Kavaia looked down at him. Her nemes and jewelry glinted with moonlight.

“Is that why you saved my life?" Sadik asked, his voice cold.

“It was not the only reason," she replied. “As I healed you, I saw etches of your soul. Glimpses of your past." Her gaze struggled to meet his. “I saw a good man, worthy of resurrection. That was all. The decision to use you came . . . afterward."

“Was it the same when I was a boy? Did you heal my mother only to satisfy your plots?"

“I have followed my duty for centuries. Inflicted millions of injuries upon myself. Not even the Vizier could be said to sacrifice more." She fingered a bracelet. Her movements were increasingly timid. “The intent has not changed, even if desperation has changed the methods."

His grip tightened on Dusksong. Sadik was forced to turn around and pace away from the gods, lest he break the rules of propriety. He could feel Kavaia's gaze lingering on his back.

To the side, Xaeyr had stopped to whisper with the other two gods. Their words did not sound reassured. After a moment, he turned back to the crocodile. “Have you gathered the necessary Glimmer?"

She nodded.

“That is one good fortune, at least. Once the fighting is done, we may be healed." Xaeyr dragged his fingers down his face. “For hours, I spoke in the hippodrome, and I did nothing to sway the masses from Thimera's honeyed words. We will be more outnumbered than I feared."

“My lord," said the four-limbed hyena, Neven. “Little time remains."

The baboon folded his arms across his chest, staring dimly into a shadowed corner. A gust of wind flew in through the curtains.

“Did Rushan murder Ilios?" Sadik asked.

All of the gods turned to face him.

“Officially," Xaeyr said, “he did not. He was the first accused. Brought to tribunal, examined by a jury of peers. Arguments were made. Thimera did her best to sway hearts instead of minds. Meanwhile, Lanir gazed into his soul. The dragon declared him innocent."

“The Neheamatt was silent," said the snake-covered lion, Kronn. “No justice was done."

“Yes," Xaeyr said, “and I have my doubts as to the loyalty of his jurors. As soon as the tribunal ended, Rushan made himself the image of a man renewed. The revolution in the city, the armies laying siege to our walls—he used them all to attain war-time powers. The god of war must be free to wage it, he would say. He used these powers to accuse his opponents of murdering the sun. Every boundary crossed was done under the guise of investigation. Every arrest and trial was done in the name of justice. Those who were not victims of his wrath became his sycophants out of fear. At the same time, the raining blood had weakened the faith of the mortals—they directed their prayers at the warrior who would grant them safety. Slowly, he has amassed a cult."

“He intends to take the pantheon," Neven said. “The first autocrat among the gods."

“He may have been declared innocent," Xaeyr said, curling a thin lip. “He may have even passed a soul inspection from Lanir. But, if there was anyone who would benefit from murdering the sun, it was him."

Sadik took a moment to gather his thoughts. “What is your plan?"

“Oh," Xaeyr said, feigning surprise. “You want us to tell you the plan? The plan that would see us executed and stricken from history should it fail? You, the most wanted man in Acheron?"

“If you have time, my lord."

“Well, shit in a river, I suppose I do." He gestured at his companions. “Rushan is invincible. If entire armies have fallen to his wrath, we will surely do so, as well. There's no hope of defeating him directly."

Sadik remembered firing a sunbeam at the jackal, a blast of energy that would destroy bridges and streets in a single lance. It had barely burned his fur.

“However," Xaeyr said, beginning to pace once more, “a league of sycophants work beneath him. It is hard to say who is hiding in his shadow, and who is hoping to rise under his banner, but, all the same, he has a significant fraction of the pantheon at his beck and call. Earning Thimera's loyalty, with all her honeyed words, has been vital for his play at power."

Kavaia scoffed.

“Our plan, to put it bluntly, is a coup. Simultaneous attacks against his most powerful generals. Decapitate every head of the hydra before they can regrow. We have converted some, and we expect others to fold with little resistance, but several of his highest followers will not submit without a fight." Xaeyr's eyes grew distant. “Before the day is done, divine blood will stain the leaves."

“Deicide?" Sadik asked, shocked.

“The Neheamatt has abandoned us. Violence is the voice of the unheard."

Neven and Kronn nodded, placing fists above their hearts.

“Rushan cannot consolidate power without popular support. He is not yet the autocrat he aims to be. Without his followers, he is thwarted." Xaeyr watched the braided carpet as he paced. “The only remaining flaw in our plan was the mighty jackal himself. He could defeat all of us little rebels with hardly an effort. Our only hope of success was to have him distracted when the strike occurred. Looking far away from the battlefield."

He glanced at Kavaia.

“Admittedly," Xaeyr said, “the goddess of death was not wrong in her thinking. Rushan is a man that does not suffer slights. If there is one thing that matches his strength, it is his vanity. I expect him to be livid that Kivie here should choose a mortal over the gold-plated king. The thought will drive him mad."

Sadik hesitated. “Her plan . . . would work?"

“Why don't you ask her? She knows the jackal best."

“Actually," Kavaia said, as if she'd been waiting to interject, “I believe this mortal's identity has improved my plan."

Xaeyr folded his arms, watching her carefully. “Very well. Go on. I'll try not to laugh."

“Rushan is accusing me of harboring enemies of the Vizier." She gestured at Sadik. “As you can see, he is correct. In response, Lanir will send the Exalted to surveil my actions. Since you ransacked my abode the second you entered, you already know this is assured."

Xaeyr did not answer. He did not seem impressed, either.

“The stroke is threefold," Kavaia said. “First, some of the Exalted will be focused on us rather than you. Second, having the Exalted inside my abode will allow Rushan to witness the act itself. He will watch through their eyes. And, of course, Sadik himself will be a tempting bounty for the jackal, should he wish to capture him and curry favor with the Vizier. All of this will aid the diversion."

His moon blared like a lighthouse. “All of this requires you to shelter in your dimly lit hovel. Far away from the fighting itself, where many of your fellows will perish without your healing. We needed that Glimmer. That was the entire point of sending you to the river."

“After the battle is—"

“In addition," Xaeyr said, “you must've paraded this human in front of Rushan. I can only imagine he saw through your ruse immediately. You have raised his suspicions about our coup. The one boon to our plan—the one thing that may allow us to prevail—was the element of surprise, and you have now certainly dashed it from our hands."

Kavaia looked away, wiping the blood off her linen dress.

“Goddess." His moon shined a spotlight upon her. “Even if we succeed today, Lanir will demand that you be brought to tribunal for harboring a fugitive. That cannot be avoided."

“As she should," Kavaia replied. “I will take any punishment she deems appropriate. Lashing, stockades. Even exile. I have sacrificed myself for centuries. If the sanctity of the pantheon demands a cost from me, I shall pay it without hesitation."

The baboon made a noise in his throat. He turned to Sadik. “What is your opinion on the matter?"

Sadik blinked. “Me?"

“You are the other half of this copulation, are you not? What does the sword have to say of its sheathe?"

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. Without noticing, his gaze drifted up to Kavaia. He found her watching him carefully. There was a hardness in her eyes, something sharp and ancient behind the slit pupils.

At the same time, he remembered the fear in her eyes when Rushan had assaulted her. He remembered the anger in her voice. The tired relief when he promised to lend her aid.

She had told him they shared a similar trial. She had seen something inside his soul.

He thought of Faustine. He remembered the night of the revolution.

“My lord," he said. “You misspoke earlier. I am not a former member of the Luminous Path. I am its last follower. I have fought for the sun. Defended this city with light and flame more times than I care to count. Through it all, Ilios was my patron. The guiding light of the stars."

He gathered the haft of Dusksong in both hands.

“It is my duty to scour darkness wherever it is found. If the sun should fall, then I would burn the sky to light her again. Nothing less would be expected. I cannot fail those who watch me from the shadows. Not again."

With a hand on the pommel, he rested his sword upon the carpet. The shattered mouth was awkward, the thick blade easily wider than his thigh. But, slowly, it found its rightful position once more. Once placed, it remained steady.

“If Rushan has slain Ilios," Sadik said, “then I will see him brought to justice. Whatever you wish of me, you shall have. My sword is yours."

Xaeyr was unamused. “Which sword, exactly?"

“Whichever one is necessary, my lord."

The baboon's tail whipped between his legs. The moon above his head continued to spin. He brought his gaze into the braided carpet, staring deeply into the cloth.

“It is too late to change course," Kavaia said. “We are committed."

“We are with you," Neven added. “Victory or death."

Xaeyr closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“My lord," Kronn said. “The time approaches. We must go."

He nodded. It appeared to be only to himself. “Very well. You may fuck this mortal, Kavaia. If nothing else, it may be our last chance to spit in Rushan's eye. I will make sure—"

A rustling filled the air.

On the ceiling, through the slope of the bronze dome, vines began to crawl. Woody stems curled and slacked, twisting like a bed of snakes. Leaves grew with divine speed. Even the thick chimneys of phloem began to twist and churn.

Slowly, tendrils of leaf and wood began to emerge from the threshing mass, descending like spindly fingers. All the gods backed away, eyes wide.

The vines wrapped themselves around Sadik. They curled beneath his arms, rubbing through the bronze scales of his kepresh. In moments, he was encased in a bristling web of vines, each of the stems crawling and wrapping around his form. The leaves were as soft as feathers. They smelled of water and life.

Above, the rustling intensified. A sigh bled through the room. It was quiet. Wordless. It seemed as ancient as the wind.

“Nema above," Xaeyr said.

The baboon fell to a knee, bowing his head. His two companions soon followed. Kavaia continued to stand off to the side, long snout held open in shock.

Sadik felt the wooden stems sliding above the holes in his armor. Leaves covered the bare skin below his face. He remembered walking through the gardens of Kohav Yaran, watching as the divine grafts from the tree of life began to seep Glimmer from the stems. Gently, he had touched the leaves, knowing that there were slivers of divinity beneath his fingers. It was a pale shadow of what he felt now.

“We have seen your sign, Aldunya," Xaeyr said. “Great Neheamatt. It is known."

“It is known," Neven said.

“It is known," Kronn said.

A dry sound filled the room, like wood scraping across stone. It was a language that did not need words.

“The mortal is your patron. We understand."

“It is known," Neven and Kronn said together.

Above, leaf and vine continued to strangle the marble, as if they meant to rip the roof from its walls. Even the floor began to rumble.

“The betrayer will not succeed," Xaeyr said. “Rushan will fall."

Wind sliced through the curtains. Fire blazed in the braziers. All at once, the vines around Sadik began to recede, coiling back into the recesses of the ceiling. The rustling of the leaves became a sigh of relief.

Soon, the leaves were gone, scattering through the shadows like insects fleeing the light. The marble was bare once more. All that remained were the great spires of phloem and a feeling of softness spreading across Sadik's skin.

“Stars behold," Kavaia said, eyes still wide.

Sadik rubbed the holes in his armor, feeling only blood and filth. “It was the Neheamatt."

All four of the gods watched him, as if hearing the sermon of a prophet.

“The Neheamatt saved me," Sadik said. “In the city. I was fleeing from my pursuers. I entered a district overrun with plague and emerged unscathed on the other side. It seemed impossible. . . ."

“It was not our doing," Kronn said.

“You are blessed," Neven said.

He opened his palms. Through the bronze gauntlets, they felt the same as before. For a moment, he concentrated, willing his tattoos to light, and they blazed as brightly as his sword, just as they always had.

Nothing was different. At the same time, everything had changed.

Ever since Kavaia had saved him as a boy, Sadik had allowed himself to believe that he had a higher calling. It had not been pride—or, at least, he had never let it become arrogance. He had dedicated his life to meeting his task. He would've gladly entered his grave if it meant fulfilling his duty.

But Aldunya, the great life-giving Neheamatt—that was something else entirely. Something he had never once suspected.

“It is an omen," Xaeyr said. “The tree saved your life. She has been silent all these weeks. Now, on the eve of battle, she makes her intentions known." His moon spun faster, gaining light. “She has been watching. Planning. We fight with her blessing."

His two companions drew their swords. They moved towards the exit.

The baboon looked to the crocodile. “Kavaia."

She tore her gaze away from Sadik.

“You have angered the god of war," he said. “I would expect it in kind."

“Yes. Of course. I. . . ."

Xaeyr paced over to the goddess. “You must defend this mortal with your life. Do you understand?"

Her royal nemes glowed under his moonlight. She looked between god and man, as if struck blind.

“Kavaia," he said. “You may not remain neutral any longer. You have chosen your path. You must follow it to the very end." He placed a furry hand on her shoulder. “Do you understand?"

She seemed to bite back a harsher response. “As the mortal said, you have my sword."

The god peered into her face for a moment longer. “Yes. Perhaps you should follow his example." He lowered his hand and moved to join his companions at the doorway. “Happy fucking, you two. Hopefully, I'll be able to hear of it later."

The three gods left the room, venturing into the morning light. The bronze doors swung closed behind them. They seemed to sever the sunlight like a neck upon a chopping block.

Once again, they were alone.