Shiva turns to face Mr Sangong and Sarroch. Credit to them both, neither of them look frightened at finding themselves in the glare of such a large and clearly powerful being. “You mentioned the truth of who this little human truly is. Or rather what she is,” he says pleasantly. “What truth is that, exactly? What truth have you been keeping from the Elders?”
His tone might be pleasant, but his eyes are not. They’re cold, bordering on angry.
Shiva is nicknamed Shiva The Destroyer. The Hindus believe him to be the god who destroys the old to make space for the new. The stories also speak of him having a chariot of fire. None of these things inspires confidence right now.
I mean, if the baku are normally quite peaceful and gentle creatures, and yet Chizu was prepared to have me dismembered, I can’t imagine someone called The Destroyer will be in favour of keeping me in one piece.
“Shiva is right,” Mucalinda booms. “You cannot ask me to keep this hidden from the other Elders. You know this, Sangong.”
“And you know what will happen, what is at stake if her true nature gets out,” he replies. “Whereas if she is simply integrated as part of the Mayak, there is a real opportunity for peaceful resolution. The balance to be found once more.”
“This is getting more and more interesting,” Shiva says. And I really don't like the way his dark eyes look over me.
Before anyone else can speak, they all pause, eyes distant, as if listening to something. I strain to hear, but I don’t pick up on anything save for a shiver of magic.
Sarroch turns to look at me, his eyes regretful. “We're too late. The baku have worked fast, and they have already made what happened to Chizu public.”
Shiva smirks. “So that's why you were trying to push this through, Sangong. You wanted to protect the little murderer.”
Murderer. The word slices, cold and sick, through my belly. Murderer. That’s what I am now. What I will always be. I feel ill.
Shiva throws Mucalinda a sly look. “There would have been a time when you would have caught such a deceit, oh seven-headed one. Your weakness for Sangong blinds you.”
Mucalinda raises her heads up. “I have no weakness.”
“If you say so.”
She turns to Mr Sangong. “But Shiva is right. You deceived me.” She sounds angry. “What games are you playing, Sangong?”
“His own, as always,” Shiva answers silkily, but his voice has a cold and threatening edge.
“I was simply trying to keep the peace,” Mr Sangong replies. “Just think, Mucalinda. Think. Think what is at risk. Peace is the only way we can go forward. Peace is the only way that we can restore balance to the world. And for that, we need Apiya. Recognise her. She is the daughter of one of the guardians of the skies, she deserves—”
“It does not have a gender,” Shiva snaps. “It is simply energy that Qinglong gave form to. Just because you chose a female container to place that energy in, doesn't mean we need to recognise it as female.”
“Qinglong referred to her as her daughter,” Sangong counters. “Apiya is female and should be recognised as such.”
“And while we're at it, you're asking that we recognise the energy’s container as part of the Mayak,” Shiva continues, as if Sangong hasn’t spoken. “Why should we do that? The energy that Qinglong stole may be recognised, but we don't have to recognise a corpse. A human corpse.”
Making it clear that the greater crime isn’t that the baby Sangong chose was dead, but that she was human.
Shiva spins on his heels, but despite his massive size, the water does not even move. “This is a joke,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks away. “A joke, Sangong. You're going senile in your old age that you would even think you could make this work.”
Sarroch looks at the huge seven-headed snake, which is still regarding us. “Mucalinda, please. You were always in favour of peace. Nothing good will come of Apiya being destroyed.”
“And I might have been able to do something had you not lied to me,” Mucalinda hisses angrily. “Lied.”
“Omitted the truth,” Sarroch countered.
“Lied.” Her tone brooks no answers. “Had you come to me with the truth—the full truth—I might have been able to do something. But you made me lose face in front of Shiva. I cannot do anything for you now.”
“Mucalinda, please,” Sarroch says. “We only—”
“You three will leave my domain right now. I do not want to see any of you again until the Reckoning.”
The moment she has finished speaking the words, I feel a massive whomp of pressure and then we're standing in a pond, in what was once a park on the edge of the forest, not far from Old Town. It is now slowly being taken over by weeds and small trees.
I stagger, more from the shock of the change than anything else. This is nowhere near as taxing as jumping through Ilmu's memories, but it’s still tiring. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the now bright mid-morning sunshine. They’re gritting from lack of sleep.
All of our clothes are soaking wet, but by the time we climb out of the pond, Mr Sangong's cheap suit is once again dry. No such luck for my denim shorts.
“So what happens now?” I ask them both.
Sarroch sighs. “There will be a Reckoning. A trial.”
I swallow and nod. “It's only fair that I face justice for what I did.”
“It won't be justice, at least not the kind you're referring to,” Sarroch says with a twist to his mouth.
“You mean I won't get a lawyer?”
“There is no such thing as lawyers amongst the Mayak. Anyone who is willing to speak for you will step forward and give their testimony. Anyone who is willing to speak against you will do the same. The Elders will weigh both sides and decide.”
Sarroch's tone is bleak, making it clear what he thinks my chances are, but still I have to ask. “What are my chances?”
“Not good,” he says abruptly. He looks away. “You aren't recognised as a Mayak, and there is no precedent for a human being forgiven for the death of the Mayak. On the contrary.”
“Even if it was in self-defence? Even if—”
“None of that matters. All that matters is that you have a human part to you, and you killed a Mayak. There will be even less willingness to forgive, given the current climate.”
“What kind of sentence will I face?” My voice is a whisper.
Sarroch shakes his head. “We will simply have to find some way out of this. There will be something. At the end of the day, you are the daughter of Qinglong. In a way, you are no different than I am, and I am recognised as part of the Mayak.”
Mr Sangong nods. “Yes, we will have to find something.” He sounds distracted. “I better go. Sarroch, you and I need to gather as many Mayak who will speak for Apiya as possible. And we don’t have long.” He walks away, unhurried.
I look up at Sarroch. “How long do we have?”
“Not long. But we will figure something out. We will figure something out.”
The fact that he has to repeat this has me wondering whether he's trying to reassure himself. Which does nothing to reassure me.