CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

No matter how far the path

or how long you trod

there is rest at the end

and along the way

if you are vigilant.

—THE HARMONY OF BEING

Zeli sat before the god known as Gilmer on cushions that he had spirited into existence. He looked like a normal man, then again, at a glance, the Goddess Awoken looked like a normal woman. Only being around Her for any length of time had corrected that misapprehension.

“You have questions, I’m sure,” he said, his voice a sonorous tenor.

Zeli swallowed, her mouth having gone dry. “I don’t even know where to begin. What-What should I address you as?”

“Gilmer is fine,” he said with a chuckle. “No honorifics are necessary.” He took a deep breath. “Would you like some tea? You must be famished.”

Zeli blinked, surprised at what sounded like genuine concern in his tone. “I—thank you. Yes, please.”

A simple, slightly chipped ceramic tea set appeared between them, steam venting from the pot. She startled, then tentatively reached out for it, but Gilmer beat her to the punch and poured two cups of fragrant tea, which tickled her nose.

“Where to begin?” he said, tapping his lip with a long finger. “Well, first, I should apologize for the subterfuge. I do enjoy watching the Rumpus. I’m only awake for a week every ten years, you see, and I’ve grown quite addicted to soaking up experiences during these few days. But I am sorry to have tricked you. The disguise is simply useful.”

Zeli gripped her mug tighter. “Are you cursed?” she whispered.

“What? No.” He laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh no, my dear. It is a choice. Living for as long as I do is a bore. Centuries ago, I decided to space things out a bit. The world was changing so quickly, I wanted to experience more of it. Invention, industry, technology. It’s all so fascinating. I thought I might appreciate it more if I didn’t consume quite so much.” He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. “You see, I have somewhat of an addictive personality.”

Her brows rose, but she hadn’t heard of anything like that before, so she remained quiet.

“And I am not actually immortal, so extending my life with these long rests was the best way I could think of to prolong things, without going mad. To experience life as a child again … well, the world would be quite a different place if all could do so.” He took a slow sip from his teacup and gazed at her over the rim. Now his eyes made more sense in his grown-up face.

“You, I believe, are acquainted with the Queen Who Sleeps?” he asked.

Though the hot liquid had warmed her, cold swept over her skin at the question. “She is the Goddess Awoken, now. But yes.”

Gilmer nodded. “Ah, of course. Well, my sleep is somewhat like Hers. Though mine is, of course, voluntary. And I awake when I choose. It’s a different sort of spell. My followers created the Rumpus for the week in which I am awake to celebrate my return and to recommit themselves to me.” He sighed and stared off to the side. “They insist on continuing to worship me. An absent god is better than none at all, I suppose.”

Zeli frowned. “Do you have the power to stop them? From worshipping you? If—if that’s what you want?”

He considered for a moment and shrugged. “I suppose I could forbid it. Attach heavy punishments for their prayers and supplications, but people are people. Some would still gather in secret, convinced this was just a test of faith. The hearts of men are stubborn in that way.”

She swirled her cup a moment, watching the movement of the liquid. “What if you did something really terrible?” Chancing a glance up at him, she found him stroking his chin.

“Well, I suppose that public opinion would sway in that case. But there would, no doubt, be those who thought that because I did it, it must be right. Belief is irrational—loving and hating are two sides of the same coin. So maybe you are right, maybe changing one into another would not be as difficult as I think. It could be I am just too vain to try it.” He chuckled and drained his cup.

Then he turned sharply toward the door. The battering ram had paused. “Thank the matriarchs,” he muttered. “Shall we let your friends in?”

“Can we?” she asked, brightening.

“Yes, of course. You may do what you like. You have access to the Archives and may share it with whomever you choose.” He smiled graciously and a bit of lingering fear from the shock of his appearance and transformation faded.

“Please then, let them in.”

Gilmer smiled and inclined his head. He did not move, but closed his eyes. “Followers, friends. The Archives have been entered.”

He spoke at a normal volume, but the words entered not only her ears but her mind and her consciousness. He truly sounded like a god, voice resonant and filling every inch of space inside her, until it vibrated within.

“This year only one contender managed to gain entry to the Archives. Best of luck next time, now please, go and enjoy the Rumpus.” Zeli blinked in awe at the display of power.

His voice—the audible one—quieted to a whisper. “Adia, will you please gather the tall, young Elsiran and his Lagrimari companion and escort them to the main doors?” Then he opened his eyes suddenly and smiled at her. She ducked her gaze, embarrassed at being caught staring.

In moments, the double doors rattled. They did not appear to be barred or latched. There weren’t even any door handles on this side, just smooth metal. Under their own power, or more likely Gilmer’s, the doors opened outward. Gasps sounded from those gathered on the other side.

Through the doorway, the setting sun bathed what she could see of the remaining crowd in oranges and reds. Right outside, white-clad acolytes kneeled with their heads bent. Gilmer sighed and rose, then paced over to the entry. He stood there, arms crossed, before the prostrate acolytes.

A minute later, a raven-haired female acolyte appeared before him with Varten and Lanar in tow. Gilmer bowed in thanks to her and the woman flushed scarlet. Then the god led Zeli’s companions inside and the two enormous doors closed again.

Varten stood in the entry looking up and around, jaw open, while Lanar merely glared at Gilmer. For his part, the god smiled at the Lagrimari man. “Good to see you again, old friend,” he said extending his hand for a shake.

Zeli flinched, frozen for a moment. “Old friend?” She looked from one man to the other, taking in Lanar’s pinched expression.

“Why yes,” Gilmer replied, “I am not the only one with a secret identity. Am I, Yllis?”

Lanar or Yllis or whoever he was blew out a breath and crossed his arms defensively.

Gilmer tilted his head. “Why the pseudonym? There are very few alive who would have recognized your name.”

Yllis’s gaze slid to Zeli and then Varten, who had come to stand next to her. “True, but these two have been reading my journal. And I wasn’t certain how they would react if they knew who I was.”

Zeli took a step back; Varten tensed beside her. “You wrote the journal?” He looked to Zeli, who shook her head, completely dumbfounded.

Gilmer clasped his hands behind him and rocked on his heels. “I think this conversation calls for more tea.”

---

Gilmer had produced more cushions and tea from wherever it was he got these things. Varten came to sit beside her, while Gilmer and Lanar—or rather, Yllis—stood in hushed conversation by the doors.

She studiously ignored Varten, still angry with him from earlier. Instead, she straightened the teacups and poured more for the newcomers, feeling his eyes on her.

Finally, she sat back, staring straight ahead. “What?” she said through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. She turned, and was arrested by the misery evident on his face. “I should have been there to help you. That’s why we came, and I just got caught up in…” He trailed off and she waited for him to finish the sentence, but he just stared at his hands.

“In what?” she prompted.

He shrugged. “I’m not really reliable. I mean, I shouldn’t be in charge … of making decisions or anything. I just screw things up.”

She blinked rapidly. “But you were right. Remi and I managed to pry open that sewer cover and that’s how I got in here. I think it was the only way inside.”

Varten’s shoulders were still slumped and Zeli reached for him, intending to offer a comforting hand, then withdrew. She wasn’t sure she should touch him, wasn’t sure he wanted her to.

“You missed quite a lot,” she said, grabbing a cup instead. She didn’t really want any more tea, she just needed something to do with her hands.

“I see.”

“No, you didn’t. Remi turned into Gilmer.”

“What?” His jaw hung open comically.

“Remi is Gilmer and Gilmer is the Archives.” She motioned to the empty space surrounding them.

Gilmer and Yllis approached and sat on the remaining cushions. “Yllis refuses to tell me how he managed to come back from the dead,” Gilmer said, sounding annoyed. “I do it every ten years, but then again, I never go all the way to the World After. But I know that you must have. I saw what was left of that city after your battle with the True Father.”

Yllis shook his head. “My tale is for another time. Since we have limited access to the Archives,” he looked pointedly at said Archives, “I would not wish to waste it.”

Gilmer sniffed. These two did not behave like friends.

“How did you know we’d read your journal?” Zeli asked. She wasn’t sure he would answer, the pause was so long, but finally he sighed.

“I remained, out of sight, after I left the journal for Oola.” His face softened for the first time. “I was not ready to face Her, not yet. But I saw the two of you take it. I’d intended for Her to…” He looked off. “It does not matter. When it was clear She had other priorities, I decided to come here for myself. It seemed convenient to travel together.

“When we first met”—he turned to Gilmer—“you tried to teach me a way to win the war. Eero had trapped himself on the other side of the Mantle with the Singers, I was stuck in the west with the Silent, until I found a way through my spell for the Mantle. I knew Eero was draining Songs, stealing them for his own purposes, and I spent years searching for a way to stop him and reverse it. When you arrived, I thought it was the answer to my prayers.”

Gilmer looked down. “I did my best to teach you,” he said quietly.

“Your method for restoring Songs did not work once you left.” Yllis spat the words.

“Because you did not do it properly. I can only teach a willing student.” Gilmer’s dark eyes turned to Zeli. “Perhaps she will be more amenable.”

The scrutiny of both these ancient men made Zeli want to squirm. She lowered her gaze, but turned toward Yllis. “Why didn’t his method for restoring Songs work anymore?”

“Ask him.” Yllis threw up his hands. “He must have left something out. I tried for years more, without success.”

Gilmer’s jaw tightened. “I left nothing out. I saw your plight, felt the pain of the separation of your people and the suffering caused by your … former friend.”

Zeli’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about the True Father? You were friends with him?”

Yllis nodded, features downturned. “Aye. We were friends. I loved his sister more than myself. To me he was a brother. Once.”

“‘A gift from the heart to my beloved,’” she whispered, remembering the inscription of the journal. “Signed only ‘O.’ That’s for Oola, the Goddess Awoken.”

Yllis’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I filled many notebooks while seeking new discoveries. She gave me most of them.” His longing was palpable.

Was this why the Goddess had been so bothered by the sudden appearance of the journal? It reminded Her of a love long lost.

“Why didn’t you show yourself to Her?”

Yllis straightened and sobered, shedding the melancholy like a cloak. “There will be time for that. For now, danger is at our doorstep. Eero has already attacked Elsira twice.”

“Twice?” Varten was appalled. “Already? What happened in the last attack?”

“Nothing you can change, boy,” Yllis said coldly. Zeli wanted to smack him.

Gilmer lay a hand on Varten’s arm. “Your family are all fine. But Eero is already planning his next strike.”

Varten was vibrating with tension, and Zeli saw the moment it seemed to slip away from him. She glared at Gilmer, who put up his hands. “I just calmed him down a little. I did not hurt him.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Yllis spat.

Zeli whirled on him. “You are here because I invited you inside. I’m the one who gained access to the Archives, not you. So if you can’t be civil, I will invite you to leave.”

The man’s brows climbed up his forehead. Zeli felt a little light-headed at the uncharacteristic display of force. Gilmer, however, grinned.

“I knew I liked her. Tell me, child, what do you know of blood magic?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I’ve heard of it, but that’s about all. It was forbidden in Lagrimar.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure that Eero forbade things that could have harmed him. Blood magic is the most ancient of powers native to this world. The Founders of Elsira and Lagrimar, much like the matriarchs of my siblings and me—those who birthed us—were from elsewhere. But that world crumbled and died, destroyed from within and all were forced to flee.

“Your Founders and our matriarchs were of the original line. Their children, me, my siblings, your Goddess, we all have a similar lineage. We are not as powerful as our parents, but strong enough to be considered deities here.”

“You are Seconds,” Yllis said.

“Yes, if the original line from that destroyed world are the Firsts, then we are the Seconds,” Gilmer said. “Though we did not count ancestors the way that you all did in the north.”

He clasped his hands together and sighed. “My siblings and I arrived in this land to find the people at war. We tried to bring peace.” He shook his head. “At any rate. The blood magic practiced in the mountains separating Elsira and Lagrimar and found elsewhere on this continent was potent stuff. Very powerful and easily abused. The clever discovered it could be combined with Earthsong to create new things.”

Gilmer turned to Zeli. “Did you bring it with you?”

“Bring what?” Varten asked, but Zeli knew. She felt the truth of what he was really asking, but was ashamed to say. She shouldn’t have brought it, hadn’t told Varten that she was doing so. It was dangerous, but when she’d left the palace, leaving it within the reach of the Goddess had felt just as wrong.

She twisted the sack in which she carried her meager belongings and reached inside to pull out an object as long as her forearm and covered in brown fabric. She unwrapped it carefully to reveal the king stone. “When Queen Jasminda and the Goddess defeated the True Father, they trapped all of the Songs he stole within this caldera.” Inside the red encasement was a dagger, blood still dark on its blade. The caldera was warm in her hand, as if it generated its own heat.

“You stole it?” Varten’s voice was awed with a hint of reproach.

“I didn’t want to leave it with Her. I don’t trust Her.” The fire of betrayal still burned hot within Zeli when she thought of the Goddess. Yllis remained silent, gazing icily at the caldera.

Gilmer was quiet for a moment, his mind far away before he focused back on her. “These calderas are powerful objects, used for centuries to change the course of Earthsong. Their creation requires a sacrifice, and another sacrifice is needed to use them. Sometimes small, sometimes large.”

“Blood, right?” Zeli asked.

Yllis spoke up. “Major calderas, such as the one you hold, require a death in order to become active. Long ago I created one. Its purpose was to hold my Song after my death and give it to Oola so that She might finally end the war with her brother.” His dark eyes never left the king stone, and Zeli wanted to hide it from him. As if he felt her discomfort, he looked away, toward the red obelisk in the center of the space. “In order to release the stolen Songs within that stone, Eero must die. His life must be sacrificed.”

Gilmer reached forward, a question in his gaze. Zeli nodded and allowed him to take the king stone from her gently. “My old friend is right in one regard, death is one form of sacrifice. But it is not the only way.”

Yllis frowned. “It is the only way the Cantors discovered, and we spent centuries researching blood magic and calderas.”

“And you don’t listen.” Gilmer’s voice was even. “You did not then and you are not now. The problem with scholars is that you so often seek knowledge for its own sake. You understand what you choose to, filtering your discoveries through your own perceptions. There are many forms of sacrifice in this world. Think of the meaning of the word.” He focused on Zeli. “What does it mean to you?”

She thought for a moment. “To give something up.”

“Anything?”

“Something important to you,” she said.

“Something of great value,” Varten offered. “Something precious.”

Gilmer nodded. “If you want to release what’s inside this caldera, Tarazeli ul-Matigor, House of Bobcats, what are you willing to give up?” His soft smile was almost fatherly.

What was she willing to give up? She’d risked much to get this far—her safety, her future, but she already knew that wasn’t the type of sacrifice he meant.

“I can show you how to restore Songs, starting with your own,” Gilmer said.

Her breath caught at his words. “You can bring my Song back? Can you just bring everyone’s back?”

Gilmer shook his head. “That is not for me to do, and furthermore, I cannot from here. Some level of proximity is needed.”

She exhaled, trying not to show her disappointment. “But mine?”

He held the king stone like an offering and held her gaze. “You have to choose what you will give up.”

“What sort of thing should it be?”

Yllis snorted. “This doesn’t make any sense. It’s blood magic, it needs blood and death. Maybe the girl should open an artery.”

Zeli swallowed, and Varten shot him an angry glare, but Gilmer remained just as calm as before. “This magic is created with blood, true. But the spell to unlock it needs only a surrender. A yielding. What do you hold dear? What makes you who you are? What is as easy as breathing to you? What is holding you back?”

His last question gripped her hard. She stared at the encased dagger, an idea forming in her mind. But that didn’t make sense, did it?

Gilmer continued, “There is a debt that is owed this spell. Blood flows through our veins, brings us life, and its spilling is the loss of the precious. But there are other things that sustain us. Other valuable commodities that fuel our tanks, if you will. What brought you here today?”

She struggled to find the right word. “Duty.”

Gilmer tilted his head. “Just duty?”

Her mouth trembled. “No.” She blinked slowly, turning to Varten, who looked encouragingly at her.

What she’d overheard in the Goddess’s office had set her on this path. She’d been filled with a feeling that caused her to rush out and find Varten, to seek comfort from him.

She straightened, recognizing what it had been. “Fear,” she whispered, sotto voce.

“What?”

“Fear,” she repeated, louder this time. “I was afraid. Afraid of what the Goddess was planning, of Her inaction. Of what Her brother is capable of. Fear that my people will have nothing, that I … will have nothing.” She shook her head. “I have nothing. I never have,” she muttered.

“And have you had this fear for a long time?” Gilmer asked.

She met his gaze. “My entire life.”

The door of her home kicked down, her parents brought out screaming, branded traitors for being members of the Keepers of the Promise. Their execution. Zeli sold into servitude.

The darkened wagon that transported her to the capital where the True Father drained her Song. A sack over her head. Being tossed in a pit. A pair of lips pressed against her rigid ones. Fear, fear, and more fear had lived within her. Dogged her steps. It’s what had made her join the Sisterhood.

Hope had lived alongside it, kept her going through many difficult times, but the fear of starving, fear of being alone, that had motivated her even more.

Varten’s presence beside her was impossible to ignore. She was afraid of him, too—not of him exactly, but of what it would mean if she gave in to the feelings she had for him. What would happen when it had gone as far as it could, and then ended.

Fear was her fuel, Gilmer was right.

“But how can giving up fear be a sacrifice?” she asked.

“Because it is precious to you.”

“But I’m not afraid on purpose. It just … is.”

He sat back on his cushion. “Do you breathe on purpose? Do you manually pump the blood through your veins? How is a sacrifice of blood or life any different?”

She shook her head, still perplexed.

“Does your fear make your life better and happier?” Gilmer asked.

She looked down to her lap.

“No?” he continued. “Then why have you not given it up before? Why have you allowed it to push your steps for eighteen years?”

“But I’m not in control of it,” she pleaded.

“Aren’t you?” Gilmer raised a brow. Beside him, Yllis frowned.

Zeli’s mind raced as she tried to wrap it around what Gilmer was saying. “But how do I get rid of it? How can I sacrifice my fear?”

“You let it go.” He held his hands up, wiggling his fingers slightly.

She pressed her lips together in frustration. “That’s—it doesn’t work like that.”

“Doesn’t it?”

The man was maddening. “You yourself said that human hearts are stubborn.”

“Yes, I did.” Gilmer’s eyes glittered as he leaned forward. “That is precisely why it’s a sacrifice. Because it is hard to do. Wouldn’t slicing your palm be easier? We believe our fears keep us safe—and it’s true they can warn us of danger, help us avoid an imminent attack. But you are not under attack every moment of every day.

“Your fear is not what gives you courage, your bravery exists outside of it. Certainly, you were brave to come here and seek aid for your people. But you did this in spite of your fear, not because of it. Imagine what you could do if you let it go. You would be unleashed.”

His voice held the promise of a wonderful world just on the edge of her grasp. It was one she wanted so desperately to reach.

Lay down your burdens, the acolyte standing on the corner had said. Rest your weary shoulders. She was tired of being constantly afraid. She wanted something else for herself.

Something within her shifted. She felt it loosen and break free just as the backs of her eyes began to sting. “I want that. I want to let it go.”

Gilmer smiled and it was full of warmth and love. In that moment, she completely understood why he would be worshipped. “Good. Then I have much to teach you.”