Goddess Rising

The game moved slowly after that. Despite his inexperience, Achi played expertly. His collection grew and shrank as the game progressed, never much better than Aria’s but never worse. Rodan’s Circle was only partly a game of chance. It was rare that any player began with a poor hand, so the outcome of the game often turned on the skill of the players.

They played in silence for a while before Aria resumed the conversation.

“What was it like growing up with your father?”

Achi paused momentarily before resuming the game. He was silent a moment longer, prompting Aria to wonder how she could entice him to speak. A silent game would be worse than no game at all.

“It was nice,” Achi said.

“He must have been doting.”

“Very much.” He still sounded bored and obliging, but the ghost of a smile had appeared on his face accompanied by a distant look.

“I can’t picture it.” Aria did not neglect the game, but she was far more interested in the conversation. “Did he rock you to sleep or, I suppose, you had attendants to do that?”

“He didn’t trust them. And, well, they couldn’t stand him. He did everything himself.”

Aria imagined Tivelo changing diapers. The image did not sit well in her head.

“It must have been stifling.”

Achi shrugged. “We butted heads in the beginning. But, when you get old enough, you realize that your parents are just people doing the best that they can. We learned to manage our differences. What about you?”

Aria felt blindsided. Of course, discussing his father would lead to questions about hers. She could refuse to discuss it, but it would be unsporting and he would retaliate with more silence.

“It was fine,” she said.

“Very busy,” he said.

She remembered then that she had told him a little about her parents. In his mortal disguise, he had been a good listener. She could not even remember what she had told him. She only recalled a sense of embarrassment at talking too much and gentle understanding from him.

“You already know all about it.” She sounded pouty, to her consternation.

“Not really,” he said. “You would only talk about them if you were drunk or upset. In either case, there was always a lot of rambling. I can fill in the holes, though. Are they still well?”

“As far as I know.” She needed to change the topic. “When did you know that your father was - uh - violent?”

He was being agreeable, so she made the effort to use less combative words.

“That never happened,” Achi said. “Papa is perfectly reasonable to people who don’t poison his son.”

Was he delusional? “He ordered Garo staked forever simply for hosting a feast in which you were poisoned.”

Achi raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Is that why he was punished?”

Aria suddenly felt uncertain. “It’s not?” That was what Evera had told her. But how would Evera know? “I heard that if you’re harmed, he punishes the bystanders for not protecting you.”

Achi frowned as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Evera told me that if your favorite pet gets harmed while I’m in the vicinity, he’ll punish me for it.”

Achi’s frown did not wane. “Did she tell you this as a god or as a mortal?”

“Does it matter?”

Achi sniffed. “Do you - do you even know who gods are? My father doesn’t pay any attention to mortals unless they cross him. But gods? They’re not oppressed sheep, Aria. They’re the wolves. If he didn’t punish them for being bystanders, I’d be coming home each day with inexplicable injuries and no obvious culprit. I wouldn’t be able to take a walk without being crushed by a tree.

“He is harsh and unreasonable - to deities. That is the reason you can walk from one town to another without dying in Garo and Evera’s cross-fire. One of these days, learn some history and you’ll see what it took to impose this peace in the first place. Then, when you’ve corralled a few century old deities, you can educate him on the proper way to keep their insanity in check.

“What Evera was probably trying to explain was that my father uses a territorial system. Most of the lower and middle realms are assigned to various deities and any crime committed in that region is the responsibility of the owner. Before he invited us to a feast, Garo should have ensured that his palace was safe. Failing at that task was a crime. It’s a small crime in your eyes, but ask any mortal king: that kind of oversight kills thousands. Even if I had not been the victim, Garo would still have been punished.”

“But that is not the only reason he was punished,” Aria said. She had not forgotten his hint.

Achi smiled, lips closed but eyes flashing. “The conversation’s over. You’ve lost.”

He put down a card bearing the number eight and a picture of a crown. He still had three cards in his hand, so Aria was not technically beaten. Obediently, she did as the card dictated and added a card to her hand. Immediately, Achi put down another eight-crown. That left two cards in his hand. Aria drew another card. Next he put down a number 8 card with a tree shape in the middle. Aria drew two cards. Finally, with a smile, he put down a number 2 card with a drawing of a ring and looked up with a pleased expression. He had never looked more childish than at that moment. Rather than disappointment, however, Aria felt triumph.

“Your last card did not include a skipped turn,” she said, “so I can take my turn.”

His eyes narrowed.

She picked a card from the middle of her hand and put it on the pile of played cards. It had the crown symbol with a number 0 on it.

“Swap hands,” she said, and shoved her remaining collection into his hands.

“You!” His shock and confusion were so comical, Aria regretted that her laughter could only be audible. “That card is at the bottom.”

He grabbed the deck of unplayed cards and swiftly shuffled through them, searching something he would not find. After a frantic minute, he stopped and glared at her empty seat.

“You cheated,” he said.

“There’s no cheating in Rodan’s circle. Even children know that. ”

His scowl remained. “There is cheating when civilized people play it.”

She felt no bite from the insult, only joy. “Then you should have specified that we were playing like civilized people. Rules are rules. Now, will you fulfill your bet or are you a liar?”

He gathered all the cards into one pile and began to shuffle them. “No. You cheated, so you lost.”

“Oh. Is the little god sore? Maybe you can call your father to defend you. You’ll need his help when I tell everyone what a sore loser you are. You lost, Achi. Keep your promise or I’ll keep my threats.”

He stopped shuffling the cards. “How did you even cheat?”

“How did you know where the card should have been?”

For a moment, it seemed as if he wouldn’t reply. Then, he spoke. “I have a deity’s intelligence. I knew the initial arrangement of the cards and I watched you shuffle them. I could track their position.”

Aria made a sound of understanding. So that was why gods didn’t play cards. “I’ll tell you how I cheated when I get my body.”

His face showed his emotions as he struggled to choose between keeping his word protecting her.

Finally, he spoke. “You cheated, so you lost.” He raised a hand to block her objections. “However, my abilities are superior to yours, so you deserve credit for overcoming your poor odds. So, I will give you the body. If you make another attempt on your life, I will stop you and there will be no more chances.”

Hours before he had been acting as if there was a true risk that she could evade his protection but Aria did not challenge the change of tune. Instead, she kept her tone light and avoided all mocking undertones. “Thank you,” she said.

He seemed surprised by her restraint but chose to accept it. With a wave, the body appeared in the room just as it had before.

“You did not just make that,” Aria said. “How were you hiding it?” She had searched that room with all the skill her new senses provided and found nothing.

“I won’t explain the fabric of the universe to you,” Achi said. “There isn’t enough time left in your life.”

With another wave, she was back in the body and overwhelmed by relief. It was strange to miss something that did not truly belong to her. Being disembodied had not been unpleasant, but somehow, returning to a body felt like finding a treasure you had not realized was missing.

When she looked up from a delighted inspection of her libs, Achi had already left for his nap. Either he’d forgotten to ask how she’d cheated or he no longer cared. That was for the best. If she told him that she’d changed the drawings on the cards, he could decide to take back the body.