81. THE NEW EIGHT

Janel’s story

The Mother of Trees, the Manol

After Kihrin’s arrival

Kihrin cleared his throat.

Everyone had done a commendable job of keeping their distance, although Janel knew that it must have been difficult for some. Possibly it became easier when people started to notice that in spite of Kihrin’s best efforts, the side of the throne room where he stood was looking increasingly damaged.

No one wanted to look at him or anywhere else. Teraeth took Janel’s hand and squeezed.

Kihrin gestured toward Khored and Tya. “We shouldn’t wait. It’s not like you weren’t already starting to pick the next Guardians. I bet easily half the people you had in mind are already in this room.” He pointed at Khored. “Teraeth or Janel?”

“Teraeth,” Janel said before Khored could speak. She gave Teraeth an apologetic look. “Regardless of your answer, my dear, it can’t be me. We don’t know what it would do.”

Janel didn’t explain. She knew she wouldn’t have to; Teraeth already knew she was pregnant. But she forgot one important detail.

That Dorna was the new Goddess of Life.

“You’re pregnant? Bloody fields, stallion! What’d you go off and do that for?” Dorna looked like she hadn’t quite decided if she wanted to be spitting mad about it or not, but she was leaning toward yes. The woman looked back and forth between Teraeth and Kihrin. “So which one of you did she tumble?” She didn’t wait for them to answer, but crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Janel. “How are you supposed to raise a child without a herd! You know you can’t just—” She turned to Tya and pointed back at Janel. “I didn’t raise her to—”

“Dorna!” Janel said.

Tya shook her head. “Later, Dorna. We have bigger problems than who will raise my grandchild.”

Khored stared at the women fondly as he summoned up a red glass sword, a smaller version of the one he typically used. “That does make my choice easier.” He reversed his hold on the sword and handed it hilt first to Teraeth. “It’s practically the family business.”

Teraeth didn’t look like he agreed. Indeed, Janel suspected he would rather bodily injure himself—shatter that sword and shove each shard through his tongue—than accept what his grandfather was offering. The Manol vané crown had been bad enough.

Senera also noticed his hesitation and rolled her eyes. “There are only so many synergies present, you know. Do you really want Talon to be the new God of Destruction?” Senera reminded him.

Teraeth grabbed the sword.

“I think I resent that,” Talon muttered. “Although … fair.”

“So what do I do with the damn thing?” Teraeth examined the sword with obvious disquiet.

“Nothing. Just hold on to it for now,” Kihrin said. “Once we perform the ritual, you’ll already have it, and then it will start to take effect.”

“Lucky we know how to speed the process up,” Talea said.

Tya, who had been one of the pair to invent the Greater Talismans, blinked at the new Goddess of Luck. “I’m sorry? What was that?”

“If a soul is injured,” Janel explained, “it’s easier for the talisman to attach. A bit like a wound making one more vulnerable to infection. In this case, the talisman heals the damage and, in doing so, bonds. What otherwise might take days or weeks happens instantly.”

“An injured soul?” Tya cocked her head. “Are you referring to someone being gaeshed?”

“Yes,” Janel said grimly.

“It seems to me,” Valathea said as she walked over to the three remaining talismans, “that Thurvishar might work for any of these.” She motioned to Tya’s Veil, the Globe of Ompher, and the Book of Argas.

“If I were being extraordinarily petty, I would say it has to be the Book of Argas.” Valathea had a dark, stern expression on her face.

Janel felt her gut twist. Yes, that would be extraordinarily petty. Appropriate, but rubbing Relos Var’s face in the fact that he wasn’t chosen for the role of Argas, would never be chosen for the role of Argas. That Valathea had chosen someone else.

Not just anyone else but Relos Var’s grandson. His weakness was also family, if perhaps not quite in the same way as the people he targeted.

But Janel also thought that was something of the obvious choice, one Relos Var might well guess correctly once he figured out that the Eight had been replaced. Thurvishar was a good pick—but not for that position.

“Then it’s a good thing I am not extraordinarily petty,” Thurvishar said. He picked up the Globe of Ompher. “I know Wildheart is more associated with Galava than Ompher, but I suspect I’d still do well with this one.”

Very well. Astonishingly well. The idea of Thurvishar controlling all the powers of Ompher was frankly terrifying.

Senera frowned at the wizard, visibly confused. “You’re not picking Tya? I’d just assumed…”

“Oh no,” Thurvishar said. “I wouldn’t dream of taking that away from you.”

Janel wouldn’t have thought it possible for Senera to turn whiter, but it was difficult to dispute the evidence of her eyes.

“No,” Senera said, shaking her head. “No, absolutely not. And I would be a terrible choice. The worst choice, honestly. You can’t expect … Just no.”

“I can’t help but notice nobody’s giving me the option of becoming a Guardian,” Grizzst said petulantly.

“Yes, I wonder why that is.” Kihrin answered. But his attention quickly snapped back to Senera. “I think you might be wrong about being a poor choice. What do you think, Irisia?”

The current Goddess of Magic looked thoughtful. “Not a poor choice at all, honestly.” Then she nodded decisively. “Yes, I want you to have it.”

Senera snapped at Janel, “Why did you have to get pregnant? You’re her daughter! You’d be perfect.”

Janel just smiled. Adorable. As if she hadn’t spent her whole life running away from her mother’s inheritance, even before she realized who her mother was. “I’m not the right one for that role at all, and you know it. Maybe in another lifetime.”

“Oh, come on, Senera,” Talea said. “We’d be the Three Sisters.”

Next to her, Xivan just smiled, as if she’d known all along how this would go.

Senera closed her eyes, and Janel knew that Senera had given in. She snatched the veil off the table and glared at everyone as if daring them to say a single word to her about it.

When no one did, Senera snapped, “I can’t be trusted with this kind of power! You shouldn’t be letting me anywhere near this. This is ridiculous! What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

“Oh, now we ain’t got time for that,” Dorna said. “And I always did say you was on the wrong side.”

“Yes, you’re very smart!” Senera retreated to her chair, where she sat down with exactly the same expression on her face as a child who’d been sent to her room without dinner.

“One left,” Valathea said. She tapped the cover of the book with a delicate violet finger while she scanned the room.

“I think this one’s obvious, don’t you?” Janel looked over at Kihrin, who nodded in reply. Sure, there were a couple of people in the room who wouldn’t make a bad fit. Senera might have been an even better match with Argas than with Tya, given her thirst for knowledge. Thurvishar would also have been outstanding. But since they’d already chosen their jobs, that left one person who would do the job right.

“Is it?” Grizzst asked. “I mean, Valathea’s not a bad choice…”

“I’m flattered,” Valathea said, “but I’m quite satisfied with the part I have to play. I don’t need a larger role.”

Janel reached for the book, stopping just before touching it. “May I?” she asked Valathea.

“Of course.” Valathea removed her hand.

Janel picked up the book. She didn’t go thumbing through the pages, just in case the damn thing were to have some sort of odd reaction.

Then she handed it to Qown.

“Oh, now that’s petty,” Talon murmured.

“While I agree my pick is a glorious fuck you to Relos Var, that isn’t the reason I’m suggesting him. That just happens to be the sweetest of desserts after the meal.” She met Qown’s eyes. “I’m nominating you because you deserve it, and you would do the job well.”

Qown held the book to his chest, nodding slowly. His expression was one of shock.

“Apologies, Valathea,” Kihrin said, “but that’s not the last one. Now there’s one more left.”

Tya studied Kihrin. “That will require a new talisman focus.”

It was almost comical how they’d forgotten this part. Just missed it completely. Yes, of course they were going to need a focus. Janel could tell by the look on Kihrin’s face that he was unprepared. And what could he possibly have brought with him?

The answer came to her, and it was so obvious that she nearly laughed.

“I have it.” Janel pulled the necklace of star tears from around her neck and tossed it to her mother. “This held Kihrin’s gaesh for years. The star tears themselves are empty now.”

Kihrin laughed, just once, then looked away. “Yes,” he murmured. “You’re right. That’s perfect.”

Janel’s mother took the necklace and proceeded to stare at it with great solemnity for a good sixty seconds. She would occasionally glance up as if to study Kihrin, then stare up at the ceiling as if checking the sun outside. Which might have been exactly what she was doing. The necklace began to glow with a bright, golden light, which grew to blinding intensity before settling back down until the necklace looked perfectly normal. Or as perfectly normal as a necklace of priceless star tears ever looked.

“And who receives this?” Tya asked Kihrin. Janel suspected the rest of them weren’t being invited to share their opinion.

Kihrin didn’t hesitate. “Galen.”

“What?” Galen said.

“You know, this is a bit like attending the world’s most surreal will reading,” Talon said. “Only instead of figuring out who gets the fifty-year-old wine in the cellar, we’re handing out godhoods.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Galen asked. He seemed less upset than genuinely curious.

“Blue, don’t even start.” Sheloran elbowed her husband in the ribs and tapped the table in front of her. “Yes, he’ll take it. Of course he will.”

Tya didn’t move. She stared at Galen. “I appreciate your wife’s enthusiasm, but the answer is yes, you do get a say. If you don’t want it, we’ll find someone else.”

“But seriously,” Talon said, “I have so much sympathetic resonance with Kihrin and by extension S’arric. I would be a valid, logical choice for this position, which nobody wants, including me. So you’d better say yes.”

“I was always going to,” Galen said. “I just wanted to know.” Tya folded the necklace into his hands. He stared at it for a long moment with an unreadable expression before fastening it around his neck.

“Now we’re done,” Kihrin said. “At least with that part. Next up—finishing the ritual before Relos Var does.”

“And your mother and I need to talk to you alone,” Therin said. The man had been silent the entire conversation. So had Khaeriel. They’d just watched from the back, so quiet it had been easy to forget they were in the room.

Janel fought back a flinch. It seemed unlikely that they hadn’t pieced together exactly what was going on. And they looked as happy about it as one might expect.

Kihrin raised his chin. “Sure. I can do that too.”