41. HUNTING THE GHOST DRAGON

Janel’s story

The Afterlife

After leaving the Land of Peace

“It’s not exactly, uh … scenic, is it?” Talea gazed around them with the somewhat taken-aback air of someone who enjoyed sunlight and open marketplaces and cheerful, laughing children. All descriptions for which exactly none of her current surroundings would ever qualify.

“It grows on you,” Janel allowed.

“Not literally, I hope,” Talea said.

They both paused as the dense copse of trees and brambles opened up, drawing to the side like curtains as Xivan rejoined them from where she’d gone off to have a little heart-to-heart chat with her “Eshi.”

“Any luck?” Talea asked.

Xivan kissed the side of Talea’s cheek. “Probably, but I wouldn’t call it ‘good.’ Also, I hate her.” She glanced to the side and made a rude gesture. “Yes, and fuck you too.”

Janel didn’t ask who “her” was. Xivan hadn’t had quite the super-friendly first contact with her predecessor’s shadow teacher that Talea had. But then, given the two goddesses in question, that made sense.

Xivan rested her head against Talea’s for a moment, then sighed and straightened. “You know how much I love dragons.”

Talea’s smile faltered. “Oh sure. Great fun. Who doesn’t love dragons?”

“Anyone who’s met one?” Janel said. “But I think this is where I need to point out that I know about Xaloma because I’ve met Xaloma. Specifically, I helped Kihrin kill Xaloma.” She flicked out her fingers in annoyance. “Obviously, it didn’t last.”

Talea’s eyes widened. “Wait. That dragon? The dragon in the lake? The one whose heart Kihrin cut out and split between you?”

Xivan winced. “Khae just said, and I quote, ‘What the fuck.’”

Talea’s laugh had a distinct edge. “What a funny coincidence; Eshi just said that too. Is that a bad thing?” She leaned away from something Janel couldn’t see and wrinkled her nose almost exactly the way one might while being shouted at.

Janel scowled. She was almost positive that what Kihrin had done back when they’d first been injured here in the Afterlife—what seemed like lifetimes ago even though it had only been months—wasn’t anything … permanent.1 A transfer of tenyé, symbolically represented by the heart of a dragon. Xaloma had presumably healed the damage and gone on about her life—if such a word was appropriate.

It was the almost that gave her pause.

“I don’t know,” Janel admitted. “I don’t think so? I think it was just tenyé, really. But there is a reasonable chance that she’ll remember me with something other than fond feeling. I’m hoping she doesn’t. I wasn’t the one who killed her. Kihrin was. But I can’t be sure.” She gave Xivan a hard look. “You know for a fact that Xaloma has him? I would really hate to go through all that effort only to discover that we were wrong and he’s not even there.”

Xivan’s scowl suggested she too would be extremely unhappy if that proved to be the case. The sort of unhappiness that usually resulted in violence, although to whom was less clear.

“No,” the fledgling Goddess of Death said, “but Khae did tell me the different locations where Xaloma typically lairs.” She paused. “Understand … I’ve met Doc in person, but as I wasn’t yet … this … I don’t know what his soul looks like. But if we go to the different lair locations, any additional souls should stand out like a bonfire against the night sky, simply because Xaloma normally doesn’t allow anyone near her. So … that narrows down the possibilities.”

“The odds are low that Xaloma would be guarding souls for any other reason,” Talea murmured.

“Exactly. And it’s a better lead than any of our others.”

Janel pondered the new information. Unfortunately, it relied on a potentially false premise—that Xaloma wouldn’t have any other souls. And considering how many dragons had been in the habit of collecting people as much as treasure (typically to horrifying effect), Janel was unsure that was a wise assumption. But they didn’t have any other clues. And while it sounded like the “false” Khaemezra wasn’t exactly pleasant, Janel would be surprised to discover this memory of a goddess was interested in betraying them. They may not have been friends, but they weren’t enemies.

Talea put a hand on her lover’s shoulder, grinning broadly at Xivan. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

Xivan’s lips curled, just a little, in response, but it didn’t dampen the worry in the woman’s eyes. “Don’t get too excited. Most of Xaloma’s lairs—the ones Khae knows about, anyway—are underwater.”

Janel squeezed her eyes closed and tilted her head to the sky. It had always been easier when she hadn’t known the gods she prayed to on a first-name basis.

When Kihrin and she had run into Xaloma, the dragon had been hiding in a lake. And as Khaemezra’s child (and Teraeth’s sister, Janel reminded herself) she would be either half or full voramer.² She’d like the water. It would remind her of home. Searching for Xaloma in the water made sense.

Janel hated it.

“Do dead Ithlané souls live in the water too, I wonder?” Talea asked.

Xivan answered, “Yes, of course. The Afterlife has oceans too.”

Janel nodded. She’d seen such an ocean once—a great wine-purple slick of water stretching as far as the eye could see, luminescent waves crashing down against black-sand beaches where her footprints lingered in glowing red long after she’d gone by. Beautiful. Horrible.

Like most of the Afterlife, really.

Janel gestured toward the world around them. “It’s your call, Xivan. Take us where we need to go.”

Xivan went through the motions. It was much easier that second time.