“But limited only by the minds of those who wield it.”

“If he had influence over the vanyesh… ” Jorim shook his head. “All of this is predicated on his ability to influence affairs in the mortal realm, but he was destroyed with Virukadeen.”

“He may have been destroyed, but his worship was not.” The Viruk sighed. “No matter how horrible something may be, there will be those who refuse to see its reality. Change terrifies them, so they refuse to acknowledge it. They cling to the old ways, repeat the old rituals, and through that imbue new life into an old evil.”

Jorim rubbed both hands over his face. “What you’ve said makes a dreadful sort of sense. Among the Amentzutl, the pantheon has undergone contractions and the channels for worship have been merged. For instance, Tsiwen and Kojai have been merged into Tlachoa, a monkey god which, in more recent representations, has sprouted bat’s wings.”

“They shape the gods to their needs.” Talrisaal shrugged slowly. “If the gods do for us that which we cannot do ourselves, it makes sense that we reshape them and their aspects to address our current needs-for good or ill.”

Jorim looked down at himself. “Then am I being reshaped?”

The Viruk flashed bright teeth. “You are courage, and it is forever needed and lauded.”

“The ants tested that courage. Thank you for helping me.”

“I have returned a favor you did me.” Talrisaal waded out into the lake. “And now to Quoraxan, to repay the demons who had been tormenting me for their kindness.”

The Viruk dove beneath the water and Jorim went after him. They both swam down, going deeper and deeper until a current began to draw them along. It picked up speed and suddenly sucked them into a tube.

Then a heartbeat later, Jorim shot out of a tunnel, free of the water. He flew into Quoraxan, a world of red lands that had been scoured and scarred by savage winds and volcanic flows. Lava erupted and burning lakes lit the landscape. Even the water burst into flames halfway down its nine-hundred-foot descent.

Jorim began falling and falling fast. His companion had suggested that worshippers shape gods to their needs, and Jorim sorely needed wings. He reached out, finding magic and shifted its balance. His robe ripped as wings thrust out and beat hard. He took heart in the fact that they were bat’s wings, and he came to hover just above the tallest of the pool’s licking flames.

Talrisaal, on eagle’s wings, hovered beside him, riding the hot air.

Jorim laughed. “My bat’s wings are for Tsiwen and wisdom. But you? Eagle’s wings for Sisvoc and love?”

“I love not being burned.”

“Good point.”

The two of them looked down. The pool had collected in a bowl-shaped depression, the edges of which eclipsed their view of the surrounding area. Demons, tens of thousands of them, in a variety of colors-some dotted with warts, others striped with ulcerating wounds oozing pus and maggots-packed the shores. Some bore tridents, others studded clubs, but the nastiest just gnashed serrated teeth and flexed claws.

“And I think, Wentoki, I love flying above them.”

Which is when the demons all sprouted wings and launched themselves into the air.

TheNewWorld

32nd day, Month of the Eagle, Year of the Rat

Last Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th Year since the Cataclysm

Shirikun, North Moriande

Free Nalenyr

“Keles.”

The cartographer turned slowly. He already knew she’d entered the garden. The plants had reported it to him-and not just the xunling roots. And it was not that the plants were able to sense Jasai specifically, but when she eclipsed light, the sensation passed through the plants like a slip of cloud passing before the sun. Her tread, though gentle, created pressure. Unconsciously, he factored in height and weight, leaving him with only one possible option.

Besides, he’d known she would come.

“Good afternoon, Highness. Please, sit.” He waved a hand toward a bench. The trees shading it drew limbs away, allowing sunlight through. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, thank you.” She nodded, pulling a cloak about her, and accepted his invitation. “I hope the rains do not start again.”

“I’ve heard it said the weather turned because of disturbances in the Heavens and Hells.” He sat beside her. “I fear the weather has broken, as has my heart.”

“My aunt’s death was a blow to us all, Keles. For my entire life, she was an example for me. My greatest disappointment was when I realized the Keru would never accept me because I was too small.”

Keles shook his head. “You are fierce enough to be Keru.”

“Ferocity counts little when you are tiny.” She stared into his hazel eyes. “When I realized I could not be Keru, I sought to prove I should be. Do you know what I did?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“You’re not even trying.” She took his hands in hers and squeezed firmly. “I ran away. I ran off into the mountains. I was going to prove myself worthy. I was going to survive out there, perhaps kill a bear or a tiger or something to prove how tough I was. Now, mind you, my prior experience of the wild was herding cattle and sheep in meadows. But, off I went.

“Tyressa followed me. For a week she watched-she never admitted it, but I was able to piece things together later-then, when I was hungry and tired and cold, she came wandering down the trail in front of me with a deer she’d killed. She showed me how to skin it and butcher it, then how to make a shelter. She taught me which plants were edible and which were poison. We stayed out for a week, talking, getting to know each other.”

Keles smiled. “I spent time like that with Tyressa on the way to Ixyll. She knew a great deal, and was wise in so many ways.”

“I know, Keles. She was very wise. In that week she taught me a lot about herself. She told me she envied my mother for having married well and having had such wonderful children. She promised me never to tell anyone, but that there were times she longed for love. I asked her why she didn’t love, and she just said, ‘The Keru love and serve Helosunde, and that has to be enough.’ And yet, we both knew it wasn’t enough.

“She chose a hard life, Keles, one I never could have chosen, because I wanted more. She and the other Keru put nation and service before self. You have to respect that.”

“I respect it, Highness. I understand it. I just don’t want to. I feel hollow. My heart beats, but is gone.”

Jasai tipped his face up with a finger under his chin. “She died to keep you alive. She died happily, having fulfilled her mission.”

“I know that.” He looked at her but, seeing too much of Tyressa in her face, closed his eyes. “Why couldn’t she tell me she loved me? She did love me, didn’t she?”

A finger brushed away his tears. “Keles, oh Keles, of course she did. She loved you terribly. It elated her and scared her. Eiran says she insisted that he save you from Vallitsi-getting me out of there was almost an afterthought.”

Keles shook his head. “You know that’s not true.”

“An overstatement, perhaps, but not much of one. She loved you. You had to have seen that in how she cared for you and acted around you.”

“But then why, on her deathbed, could she not bring herself to tell me she loved me?”

“If she admitted to it, perhaps she thought she would be abandoning her identity as Keru. Keru put people and nation before self. In dying, she thought she had failed, and did not want one last failure.”

“But she didn’t fail.”

Jasai clutched his hands tightly. “And I think, perhaps, by not telling you that she loved you, she hoped to spare you some of the pain of her death.”

Keles wiped away his own tears and stared at her. “How could she think it would spare me anything?”