“Actually,” Siri said, looking over at him, lifting her chin, “I have heard of your reputation, Lightsong the Bold. ‘Useless’ wasn’t the word I heard used, however.”

“Oh?” he said.

“No. I was told you were harmless, though I can see that is not true—for in speaking to you, my sense of reason has certainly been harmed. Not to mention my head, which is beginning to ache.”

“Both common symptoms of dealing with me, I’m afraid,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

“That could be solved,” Siri said. “Perhaps it would help if you refrained from speaking when others are present. I think I should find you quite amiable in those circumstances.”

Lightsong laughed. Not a belly laugh, like her father or some of the men back in Idris, but a more refined laugh. Still, it seemed genuine.

“I knew I liked you, girl,” he said.

“I’m not sure if I should feel complimented or not.”

“Depends upon how seriously you take yourself,” Lightsong said. “Come, abandon that silly chair and recline on one of these couches. Enjoy the evening.”

“I’m not sure that would be proper,” Siri said.

“I’m a god,” Lightsong said with a wave of his hand. “I define propriety.”

“I think I’ll sit anyway,” Siri said, smiling, though she did stand and have her servants bring the chair farther under the canopy so that she didn’t have to speak so loudly. She also tried not to pay too much attention to the contests, lest she be drawn in by them again.

Lightsong smiled. He seemed to enjoy making others uncomfortable. But, then, he also seemed to have no concern for how he himself appeared.

“I meant what I said before, Lightsong,” she said. “I need information.”

“And I, my dear, was quite honest as well. I am useless, mostly. However, I’ll try my best to answer your questions—assuming, of course, you will provide answers to mine.”

“And if I don’t know the answers to your questions?”

“Then make something up,” he said. “I’ll never know the difference. Unknowing ignorance is preferable to informed stupidity.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“Do so and you defeat the point. Now, your questions?”

“What happened to the previous God Kings?”

“Died,” Lightsong said. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. It happens to people sometimes, even gods. We make, if you haven’t noticed, laughable immortals. We keep forgetting about that ‘live forever’ part and instead find ourselves unexpectedly dead. And for the second time at that. You might say that we’re twice as bad at staying alive as regular folk.”

“How do the God Kings die?”

“Gave away their Breath,” Lightsong said. “Isn’t that right, Scoot?”

Lightsong’s high priest nodded. “It is, Your Grace. His Divine Majesty Susebron the Fourth died to cure the plague of distrentia that struck T’Telir fifty years ago.”

“Wait,” Lightsong said. “Isn’t distrentia a disease of the bowels?”

“Indeed,” the high priest said.

Lightsong frowned. “You mean to tell me that our God King—the most holy and divine personage in our pantheon—died to cure a few tummy aches?”

“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way, Your Grace.”

Lightsong leaned over to Siri. “I’m expected to do that someday, you know. Kill myself so that some old lady will be able to stop messing herself in public. No wonder I’m such an embarrassing god. Must have to do with subconscious self-worth issues.”

The high priest looked apologetically at Siri. For the first time, she realized that the overweight priest’s disapproval wasn’t directed at her, but at his god. To her, he smiled.

Maybe they’re not all like Treledees, she thought, smiling back.

“The God King’s sacrifice was not an empty gesture, Vessel,” the priest said. “True, diarrhea may not be a great danger to most, but to the elderly and the young it can be quite deadly. Plus, the epidemic conditions were spreading other diseases, and the city’s commerce—and therefore the kingdom’s—had slowed to a crawl. People in outlying villages went months without necessary supplies.”

“I wonder how those who were cured felt,” Lightsong said musingly, “waking to find their God King dead.”

“One would think they’d be honored, Your Grace.”

“I think they’d be annoyed. The king came all that way, and they were too sick to notice. Anyway, my queen, there you go. That was actually helpful information. You now have me worried that I’ve broken my promise to you about being useless.”

“If it’s any consolation,” she said, “you weren’t all that helpful yourself. It’s your priest who actually seems useful.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve tried for years to corrupt him. Never seems to work. I can’t even get him to acknowledge the theological paradox it causes when I try to tempt him to do evil.”

Siri paused, then found herself smiling even more broadly.

“What?” Lightsong asked, then finished off the last of his drink. It was immediately replaced by another, this one blue.

“Talking to you is like swimming in a river,” she said. “I keep getting pulled along with the current and I’m never sure when I’ll be able to take another breath.”

“Watch out for the rocks, Vessel,” the high priest noted. “They look rather insignificant, but have sharp edges under the surface.”

“Bah,” Lightsong said. “It’s the crocodiles you have to watch for. They can bite. And . . . what exactly were we talking about, anyway?”

“The God Kings,” Siri said. “When the last one died, an heir had already been produced?”

“Indeed,” the high priest said. “In fact, he had just been married the year before. The child was born only weeks before he died.”

Siri sat back in her chair, thoughtful. “And the God King before him?”

“Died to heal the children of a village which had been attacked by bandits,” Lightsong said. “The commoners love the story. The king was so moved by their suffering that he gave himself up for the simple people.”

“And had he been married the year before?”

“No, Vessel,” the high priest said. “It was several years after his marriage. Though, he did die only a month after his second child was born.”

Siri looked up. “Was the first child a daughter?”

“Yes,” the priest said. “A woman of no divine powers. How did you know?”

Colors! Siri thought. Both times, right after the heir was born. Did having a child somehow make the God Kings wish to give their lives away? Or was it something more sinister? A cured plague or healed village were both things that, with a little creative propaganda, could be invented to cover up some other cause of death.

“I’m not truly an expert on these things, I’m afraid, Vessel,” the high priest continued. “And, I’m afraid that Lord Lightsong is not either. If you press him, he could very well just start making things up.”

“Scoot!” Lightsong said indignantly. “That’s slanderous. Oh, and by the way, your hat is on fire.”

“Thank you,” Siri said. “Both of you. This has actually been rather helpful.”

“If I might suggest . . .” the high priest said.

“Please,” she replied.

“Try a professional storyteller, Vessel,” the priest said. “You can order one in from the city, and he can recite both histories and tales of imagination to you. They will provide much better information than we can.”

Siri nodded. Why can’t the priests in our palace be this helpful? Of course, if they really were covering up the true reason their God Kings died, they had good reason to avoid helping her. In fact, it was likely that if she asked for a storyteller, they would just provide one who would tell her what they wanted her to hear.

She frowned. “Could . . . you do that for me, Lightsong?”

“What?”

“Order in a storyteller,” she said. “I should like you to be there, in case I have any questions.”

Lightsong shrugged. “I guess I could. Haven’t heard a storyteller in some time. Just let me know when.”