The Realms of the Gods

The god picked up the hare. ‘When you are my age, you may question what I do. Now, come along. Leave that thing.’ He set off down the trail.

Daine looked at the darking. ‘Do you want to come with me?’ she asked, wondering if it could understand. ‘I won’t let him hurt—’

The darking fell through her hands to the ground and raced under the bush. That’s a clear enough answer, thought Daine. ‘Don’t let him see you again,’ she called. ‘For all I know, he’ll keep shooting you.’ She trotted to catch up to her sire.

‘I never thought a daughter of mine would have these sentimental attachments,’ he remarked. ‘Pain and suffering trouble gods, but they don’t burden us as they do mortals.’

Daine thought of the two-legger goddess that she had met the previous autumn, the Graveyard Hag. Certainly she hadn’t been troubled by the ruction that she had caused. ‘Maybe that explains more than it doesn’t,’ she replied grimly. ‘Though I believe gods would be kinder if things hurt them more.’

Her father turned to look at her. ‘What makes you think our first duty is to be kind?’ he wanted to know. ‘Too much tenderness is bad for mortals. They improve themselves only by struggling. Everyone knows that.’

She blinked. He sounded like those humans who claimed that poverty made the poor into nobler souls. ‘Of course, Da. Whatever you say.’

Sarra met them on the other side of the log bridge. She kissed her mate, then ordered, ‘Go and skin and dress that hare, and not in the house.’ He left, and she looked at Daine. ‘You shouldn’t wander off like that, sweet. You’re not well yet—’

‘Ma, if I’m well enough to climb that’—she pointed to the bluff that thrust out of the forest—‘then I’m well enough to go home. Me ’n’ Numair can’t be lingering here.’

Sarra blinked, her mouth trembling. ‘Are you so eager to get away from me? After not even a full day awake in my house?’

Daine’s throat tightened. ‘I don’t want to leave you. Don’t think it!’ She hugged her mother. ‘I missed you,’ she whispered. ‘Four years – I never stopped missing you.’

Sarra’s arms were tight around her. ‘I missed you too, sweetling.’

Memory surged: the girl could almost smell burned wood, spilled blood, and the reek of death. The last time that she’d held her mother, Sarra had been stone cold, and Daine had been trying to yank out the arrows that had killed her. Tears rolled down her face.

Gentle hands stroked her hair and back. ‘There, there,’ Sarra whispered. ‘I am sorry. Never would I have left you willingly, not for all the gods in these realms.’ Softly she crooned until Daine’s tears slowed, then stopped.

‘Forgive me.’ The girl pulled away, wiping her eyes. ‘It was – remembering …’

‘Me too.’ Sarra drew a handkerchief from a pocket. Tugging on it until two handkerchiefs appeared, she gave one to Daine, and used the other to dry her own eyes.

‘Grandda?’ asked the girl. She blew her nose.

‘In the Realms of the Dead. He’s happy there. Well, you know we never got on well. We like each other better now that I only visit and—’ Sarra cocked her head, that odd, listening expression on her face. ‘Someone needs me?’ she asked, her smile wry. ‘Two in one day – I must be getting popular.’ Her voice changed, as it had in the garden before. ‘Yes, Lori Hillwalker. The Green Lady hears you.’ Turning, she walked away, crossing the stream on the log bridge.

Daine wasn’t sure if she ought to follow. Looking around, she saw Queenclaw trotting towards her.

‘Don’t just stand there,’ ordered the cat goddess, ‘pet me. Did she get another call?’

Daine knelt to obey. ‘I don’t see why they would call on her. They liked her well enough when they needed a healer. The rest of the time, they thought she was silly, and odd … and shameful.’ Queenclaw looked up, and Daine answered the unspoken question. ‘Well, there was me, and no husband, and there was—were always men around Ma.’

‘Cats have more sense,’ Queenclaw said. ‘We don’t keep toms or kittens about any longer than we must. Mind, your people don’t know it’s her they pray to. They call on the Green Lady, who started to appear over the town well in Snowsdale. She told them to summon her for help in childbirth and sickness, or for matters of the heart.’

‘I’ll be switched.’ Daine was impressed in spite of herself.

The cat’s eyes followed something in the grass that only she could see. ‘You’d better go do something with the stew,’ she remarked, tail flicking as she crouched low to the ground. ‘It hasn’t been stirred in a while.’ She pounced. A mouse squeaked and ran for its life, Queenclaw in hot pursuit.

Grinning, Daine went inside. The stew smelled wonderful. Stirring it, the girl realized that she was half listening for a courier to arrive, wanting her or her friends to arm themselves and come quickly. There were no horns calling for riders to mount and ride out. There was no thunder of message drums, pounding signals to those who had no mages to pass on the latest news. Her parents’ house breathed rest and quiet.

I wish I could stay, she thought wistfully. I never realized how tired I’ve been, till now. And I can’t stay – neither of us can.

CHAPTER 3 (#ulink_4011a159-335d-5363-b1f4-18b5bb7a4aa9)

DREAMS (#ulink_4011a159-335d-5363-b1f4-18b5bb7a4aa9)

As she moved the stew off the fire, she heard an assortment of sounds from one of the other rooms. She grinned: Numair had a habit of talking aloud as he fixed information of interest in his memory. Walking to an open door, she looked inside. Bent half double, the mage stood at the window as he tried to shave, using a mirror propped on the sill. That’s the trouble with being so tall, she thought, not for the first time. The things most folk can make use of, like windowsills, are that much farther away from him.

When he took the razor from his skin, she asked, ‘Need help?’

His dark eyes lit in welcome. ‘It’s good to see you on your feet.’

‘It’s good to be on them.’ Getting the mirror, she held it for him. ‘Have you talked to Da or Ma about sending us home?’

He smiled crookedly, and wet his razor again. ‘Let us say rather that I have attempted to do so. They are amazingly elusive on the subject. The best I’ve got so far is that we may discuss it once you have recovered.’

‘I’ve recovered,’ she assured him. She knew that wasn’t entirely true, but the images she had seen in the sunbird’s display worried her.

‘Daine,’ he said, then stopped. She waited. Something was troubling him; she could hear it in his voice. ‘Perhaps – perhaps you should stay here when I return. This is your home. You’d be safe here.’

She put down the mirror, outraged. ‘How can you say that? Tortall is my home!’

‘You’d be with Sarra – I know you’ve missed her. You’d get to know your father.’ He put the mirror back on the sill and scraped the remaining bristles from his chin. ‘Look at it from my perspective.’ He wouldn’t meet her eyes, but his soft voice was pleading. ‘I was powerless against the Skinners. There are so many foes in this war, and too many are strange. I would like to know that you, at least, had a chance to survive.’

‘I’ll make my own chances, if you please.’ Standing, she fought sudden dizziness. Carefully, she sat on the bed as Numair rinsed and dried his face.

‘Will you at least consider it?’ he asked, draping the towel over the window ledge.

‘No.’

‘Daine …’ Picking up the mirror, he examined his face. His dark brows twitched together; he shoved the mirror under her nose. ‘What do you see?’

Instead of her reflection, the glass showed battle. Sir Raoul of the King’s Own, Buri of the Queen’s Riders, and a mixed company of the Own and Riders fought in a temple square. Ranged against them were Carthaki warriors in crimson leather. Overhead, creatures swooped down to attack the Tortallans with long-handled axes. Daine gasped: these were some kind of bat-winged, flying apes, their long black fur streaked with grey.

The image vanished. Numair put the mirror down with fingers that shook. Quietly, the girl described what she had seen in the sunbirds’ dazzling flight.

‘In the Divine Realms, we observe mortal affairs,’ said Broad Foot, waddling into the room. ‘Liquid is the most reliable, but flame and mirrors work. Mortals who visit tell us that in their sleeping, just before they wake, they hear what is said as well.’

‘Is it possible to observe specific people and events?’ enquired Numair.

‘Yes,’ replied the duckmole. ‘It is how Sarra could observe you, Daine. With practice, you could master it in a week or so, and hear as well as see what goes on in the Mortal Realms.’

Numair picked up the mirror and sat on the bed.

‘We’ll finish our chat later,’ Daine told him, standing. ‘I’m not done with you!’ He was not listening. With a sigh, she left him, trying not to use the furniture for support.

The animal god followed her into her room. ‘Are you well?’

‘Just tired is all.’ Sitting on the bed, she rubbed her face. ‘Maybe climbing that bluff wasn’t the cleverest thing to do my first day out of bed.’