99: THE RULES OF THE GAME

(Teraeth’s story)

As predicted, it didn’t take long at all for the Star Court to be given new bodies, or rather, copies of their old ones. Teraeth had never heard of any tsalis that old being recovered before. Tsalis leaked tenyé as they aged. After no more than a few centuries there wasn’t enough left to maintain the soul itself. It was a horrible and painfully slow way to end one’s existence, which is why tsalis were either returned to the Well of Spirals or destroyed, allowing the souls in question to return to the Afterlife, the Land of Peace, and eventual reincarnation.

Except these tsalis—and even Teraeth hadn’t understood that star tears were a very specific kind of tsali¹—hadn’t suffered any deterioration whatsoever. Nor had any perception of time passed for them.

It must have been one hell of an attack of culture shock. One minute, most of the Kirpis vané now being reintroduced into the world had been the privileged elite of one of the greatest nations in the world. The next, they had woken to find the Kirpis had been lost, the man who’d ordered their execution was no longer either king or Kirpis, and they were now permanently sharing a country with the same upstart children who had once fled their nation in protest.

Teraeth found himself extremely glad most people didn’t know he’d been Atrin Kandor in a previous life.

When King Kelanis arrived that day, Teraeth couldn’t help but notice Suless stood by his side, wearing Teraeth’s arrowhead necklace around her neck. Queen Miyane was there, but impossibly seemed to be acting as Suless’s lady-in-waiting.

“Oh, Suless moved fast,” Talea said.

Senera scoffed. “I’m shocked Miyane isn’t either in a jail cell or no longer in the Living World. Suless is very good at inciting paranoia.”

“That might still happen,” Teraeth said. “Her sister was a Black Brotherhood assassin, after all. As soon as Kelanis decided not to honor his promise to Thaena, I bet he stopped sleeping in the same room as his wife.”

“Valathea still has the sigil, doesn’t she?” Xivan leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees. She looked like a wolf eyeing its prey.

“She does,” Teraeth said.

“Good.”

Valathea stood and walked forward where the judge sat.

“Hear my words, for I will tell no lies,” Valathea said, bowing. “The Law of Daynos is an obsolete hanger-on of a system that no longer has any meaning in our world. This well-intentioned but impractical law seemed like wisdom when the idea of souls was new to us, when we were still coming to grips with magic and what magic meant to us as a culture and people. Now we know that souls are not intangible, not fugitive—and not diminished, not even by death. Why would we insist that someone who has the same souls, the same personality, the same strength of character should be denied the privilege and benefits of their own identity? The time has come for us to acknowledge that we are ready to move beyond a law that claims we are only as important as the flesh and blood of our birth. Thank you.”

She sat back down in her chair.

Daynos gave her a single nod and then stood himself. He flexed his shoulders, held his hands out. “Hear my words, for I will tell no lies,” Daynos said. “We vané have never been much for rules. Our laws are few, but because they are few, we are obligated to be scrupulous in their execution. The Law of Daynos protects us from anarchy, for as you know, there is nothing to stop us from resurrecting a long-dead ruler and insisting their claim more legitimate than that of the monarch on the throne. Were someone to resurrect Queen Terrin, none of us could deny her obvious merit, but should someone who has been dead for over four thousand years be allowed to simply reclaim her throne and rule us once more? The Law of Daynos allows us to have orderly successions and inheritance, and more so, it protects those who are resurrected or reborn from being held responsible for the crimes of previous lives. The slate of our lives is wiped free so that we may begin again. This is a system that we have used for thousands of years. To change it now for the sake of expediency undermines everything we represent. Thank you.”

The judge, Megrea, nodded and waved to Valathea. “You may discuss the matter.”

“Thank you,” Valathea said as she stood. She walked over to the center, facing Daynos, who stood as well. “You say the Law of Daynos protects us from anarchy, but I say that we already are inconsistent and mercurial in its application. Have I not broken the Law of Daynos? Have not the Founders in this room broken the Law of Daynos?” She turned to face them. “Have we not all been brought back from tsali that had lain dormant for centuries if not millennia? And yet we were all embraced as Founders. We were all given that respect, that honor, because no matter that our bodies are fresh and new, all of us recognized one undeniable truth: that we are…” She stopped, smiled. “Really, really damn old.”

Teraeth’s eyes widened. “Oh, now I see why Terindel was so sure they’d vote his way. Self-interest.”

“Are they … going to go on like this all day?” Talea asked.

He nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Well, then.” Talea leaned back in her seat. “I suppose we don’t need to worry about whether or not she’ll be exposed to the sigil for long enough.”

Down on the parliament floor, the judge, Megrea, watched Valathea as she finished her speech. “Was there a question in that?”

Valathea laughed. “Pardon.” She smiled warmly at Daynos. “Have you ever been to the Well of Spirals for a new body?”

Daynos chuckled. “Of course.”

“So why is the tsali you transferred yourself into before your soul was placed in a new body different from a tsali that’s sat on a shelf for five hundred years?”

Daynos raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t. You seem to be under the mistaken impression that we don’t differentiate between someone who has died and been resurrected and someone who simply stayed for a long time inside a tsali, but we do and always have. You and the other Founders still have your titles because the Law of Daynos doesn’t apply to you. You didn’t die.”

Valathea pointed. “Khaeriel and Terindel didn’t die either.”

“But they did,” Daynos pointed out. “In both cases, we had their corpses. They clearly did die.”

“Ooooh,” Valathea said, “then I believe we must first define what ‘death’ is.”

Daynos held up his hands. “Is it not obviously a cessation of body and brain function?”

“No, it is not obvious at all. Especially since when you projected into a tsali, you left behind a body bereft of pulse, inanimate and nonfunctional, which under any other circumstances would have been considered a corpse. And yet we do not define that as death. Why is that?”

“Well, because my souls didn’t cross the—” Daynos fell silent.

Valathea smiled triumphantly as she held up a finger. “Because your souls didn’t cross the Second Veil.” She paused. “That is what you were going to say, is it not?”

Daynos tilted his head. “It was.”

“I like that definition,” Valathea said. “It is simple and elegant. Death is crossing the Second Veil. Return or resurrection is coming back in the same body—one would hope healed—that you originally left in.”

Teraeth began to see where this was going.

Daynos shook his head. “But there are entities that do freely cross the Second Veil. Demons. Gods. Are we to say that demons ‘die’ every time they go back to Hell?”

“Well, I don’t know. Are there any demons in line for the throne?”

Laughter broke out. Megrea cleared her throat and gave Valathea an admonishing look.

“Apologies,” Valathea said. “But truly, I think we can make exceptions for demons and gods. They are a reasonably small community that rarely interacts with the vané. For the rest of us, though, I would like us to move forward with this definition of death. Is that acceptable to you?”

Daynos seemed to chew over that. Finally, he sighed. “Yes, it is.”

“Excellent. So right away, honestly without invalidating the Law of Daynos, we have established that neither Terindel nor Khaeriel ever actually died.”

“No, we don’t know that!” Daynos complained. “Are we expected to take their words for it when they have every reason to prevaricate?”

Megrea said, “Daynos—”

Daynos tilted his head in Megrea’s direction. “Apologies.” He looked back at Valathea. “You cannot expect me to simply take your word for it.”

“No, of course not,” Valathea agreed. “Terindel, would you mind stepping into the center?”

Daynos narrowed his eyes, but made no other protest.

Teraeth’s father crossed over from the side of the room to the center.

“Now please repeat after me,” Valathea said to Doc. “Hear my words, for I will tell no lies.

“Hear my words, for I will tell no lies,” Doc repeated.

Talea leaned over to Senera. “Why do they keep using that phrase?”

“Truth spell,” Teraeth answered. “It’s considered all but impossible to lie while under its effects.”

“Excellent,” Valathea said. “Did you own for a time a necklace known as the Stone of Shackles?”

“I did,” Doc responded.

“Would you explain for Daynos’s benefit what the main defensive function of the Stone of Shackles is?”

“It switches your souls with that of your killer,” Doc explained. “So that even though they’ve just murdered you, they are the one who actually dies, not you.”

“So when you were killed by Mithraill, you never entered the Afterlife? You never crossed the Second Veil?”

Doc shook his head. “No. I was instantly in his body.” He paused. “My body. It’s been my body for over five hundred years.”

Valathea looked at Daynos expectantly as if to say, “See?”

“Where did you acquire this Stone of Shackles?” Daynos asked.

“A wizard named Grizzst gave it to me in return for a favor.”

“And we all know who Grizzst is,” Valathea said. “Now if you—”

“Why did you create the Star Court?” Daynos asked.

Doc stared flatly. “I won’t answer that question.”

The judge, Megrea, turned to regard Daynos with surprise. “Is that question relevant?”

“It might be,” Daynos said.

She studied the Founder for a long, expectant pause. “You’re foraging,” she finally announced. “Convince me how it is relevant, and I may change my mind. Terindel, you may sit down.”

Doc exhaled and went back to his seat.

Valathea once again turned to Daynos. “So do you recognize that Terindel did not actually die? And will you recognize that Khaeriel was also wearing the Stone of Shackles when she was attacked and did not die as well?” She gestured. “We can call her over here as well.”

Daynos held up a hand. “Not necessary. Very well. I acknowledge the validity of your point. So it would seem to me that there is no need to overturn the Law of Daynos. After all, it does not even apply to our two main claimants.”

The crowd broke out into applause.

Teraeth let out a dark chuckle. “Well, at least one thing’s gone right.”

“Hold!” Valathea said, raising her hand. “We are not done here. No, I am sorry Daynos, but the law itself is still very much under debate, for now that I have proven it does not apply to those who have not died, I intend to prove that it should not apply to those who have.”

Teraeth tilted his head.

“Didn’t we just win?” Xivan asked. “Why is she still arguing a case we’ve won?”

“I do not know,” Teraeth admitted, “but I don’t like it.”

“They’re up to something,” Senera said, summarizing Teraeth’s own sentiments perfectly.

Daynos laughed at Valathea’s statement. “Very well. If you insist.”

“I would like to call another witness,” Valathea said.

Megrea nodded. “Very well.”

“Teraeth, please come to the center.” Valathea waved at him.

Teraeth felt his stomach tighten. Valathea hadn’t said a word to him about calling him as any kind of witness. This was new. This was also not part of the plan.

He really didn’t like it.

Teraeth glanced briefly at the three women with him. “Keep an eye on Janel.”

Senera gave him a single terse nod.

The hall was a low murmur of chatter as he made his way down to the center of the room.

“Repeat after me—”

“Hear my words, for I will tell no lies,” Teraeth growled, scowling. Everyone was looking at him. Listening to him. He hated that.

Valathea smiled. “Perfect. Now, Teraeth, who is your mother? By her common name and title, please.”

Teraeth sighed. Oh. “Thaena, Goddess of Death.”

He couldn’t actually hear the grumble of the crowd because of the acoustics, but he could imagine it well enough.

“Thaena, Goddess of Death herself. So you must have more than a passing familiarity with the Afterlife, yes?”

Teraeth looked sideways. Daynos was looking at him like Teraeth was made of poison. Teraeth found himself wondering just how much he resembled his sister Khaevatz and how Khaevatz and Daynos had felt about each other.

“Answer the question,” Megrea said.

“Yes,” Teraeth said. “I am quite familiar with the Afterlife.”

“And how many times have you died in the past two years? Just a rough estimate is fine.”

Teraeth resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. “I don’t know … forty times?”

“Forty? Oh my. Well. I’m going to assume these deaths are not … accidental. Is that correct?”

“There’s a ritual sacred to Thaena that requires me to kill myself.”

Valathea just raised her eyebrows at Daynos.

“On purpose?” Daynos seemed momentarily stunned. He shook his head. “And how are you coming back to life?”

Teraeth raised an eyebrow. “My. Mother. Is. Thaena. I’m one of her servitors. I believe the common word for it is angel.”

“Indeed,” Valathea said. “Are we to believe that this young man is stripped of all obligations, rank, titles, and sins every time he dies? Never mind the common sense that says he is here, whole and hale and clearly his own person—if he practiced a less-than-savory occupation, he would always have a ready pardon for all manner of crimes simply by conducting this holy rite in his mother’s name.”

Teraeth’s eyes narrowed. If you bring up the Black Brotherhood, I swear I’m knifing you right now.

“Well, that hardly seems…” But Daynos’s voice trailed off, and he looked thoughtful.

“The Law of Daynos was designed to prevent someone from being resurrected decades, even centuries later and demanding a return of assets that had already passed on to heirs, but I am over fourteen thousand years old, and I can count the number of times I’ve seen the opportunity for such a situation on my hands.”

“Am I still needed here?” Teraeth asked.

“Oh? So sorry, my dear. You can go.”

Teraeth stalked back to his seat. “What the hell is her game?”

Valathea continued, “Most people either petition to have someone Returned immediately, while their grief is still fresh and strong, or they let the dead do what the dead are meant to do—move on to the Land of Peace and their next life. So I sincerely ask you, Daynos, who does this law serve?”

Daynos made a face. “I think … I think you make a good point.”

Megrea stood. “Let us begin deliberations. You will be alerted once the Founders have made a decision. Your Majesty—” Her voice faltered.

King Kelanis and Janel were both gone.