Goddess Rising

Aria heard the voices first. They came in varied manners, soft and loud, near and far, and continued for minutes as unintelligible buzzing before resolving into words.

“A hunger strike? Really?”

“My bet is on Our Lord. Two hours, I say, and he’ll put a stop to this.”

“Add some more to that pool. And that one as well.”

“Are you here to gossip?! Eyes on your books!”

Her eyesight followed, but the view it brought was odd.

She could see the prince’s receiving room. He sat on a couch, reading, with a stubborn tilt to his jaw.

Before him, a table was set with a wealth of food: soups, porridges, rolls, and desserts littered it in embarrassing variety.

An attendant whispered conspiratorially. “If you just eat something, Your Eminence, we’ll lie and say that you didn’t. But, please, don’t harm your health.”

Achi kept his eyes resolutely on the book.

At the same time, she could see the Black God in another room, sitting on a cushioned armchair and reading individual sheets from a stack of papers. The topmost sheet had a petition from a goat herder asking for justice for stolen sheep. It resembled those that she had found in Achi’s bedroom - in format, not in content. Tivelo tossed the sheet aside after a brief glance. It disappeared before it hit the ground. The next had a plea from a man whose child had been killed. Tivelo read that one for two seconds more than the previous. Then, it disappeared and reappeared on a table several feet from him. A servant kneeling before the table hurriedly stamped it with the word ‘granted’ and added it to a pile on the left side of the table. There were four hundred and two stamped sheets on the table and another two thousand and sixty five left in Tivelo’s hand. Aria counted the sheets quickly and accurately. She could see each individual sheet and read the words on them, no matter how many sheets were stacked above.

She could see a kitchen with eight fireplaces and a bevy of attendants hard at work. She saw the lake outside the palace, and saw that it extended under the entire construction. In fact, her vision covered every room in the palace and much of the surrounding area. Whatever eyes she had now were nothing like her previous ones.

Her memories returned last of all. The first one hit her in full force, touching every one of her senses. She smelled the smoke from the flames, felt the impotent fear, the stone beneath her feet, the chair pressed against her back, the tears rolling down her face. Her real vision disappeared, as did the cacophony of sounds, and was replaced thoroughly by that nightmare scene.

It took several minutes to calm herself, the process helped along by the absence of pain. The scent and sounds of flames receded, but remained stubbornly in the back of her mind.

Werri was now in Achi’s room, waving the attendants away. They left the food-laden table, gave shallow bows to the high priest, and hurried away. Meanwhile, Achi kept his eyes on his book. He had only turned one page since Aria’s last inspection, so she doubted that he was as engrossed as pretended.

“His Eminence sent a message.” Werri’s voice was low, apologetic. “He says that if you do not eat, he will have the fire burn twice an hour instead of once. Every harm you suffer will be charged to her account.”

Achi looked up from the book. For a moment, he looked stunned. Then, white-hot anger filled his eyes. When he rose, however, it was with slow, steady movements. He put the book on the seat and walked quietly to the table. Two chairs were arranged on one side of it, each made of pale, brown wood and leather cushions. He took neither of them. Instead, he grasped a tray holding a circular cake - green with crystal sugar glittering on it - and drew it closer. He tore a chunk out of the cake with his bare hand, exposing a fluffy brown interior, and stuffed the handful into his mouth. He chewed it - barely - before swallowing and then repeated the process twice more. Werri’s mouth was open in horror.

In his own quarters, Tivelo had stopped his work. His gaze turned towards Achi’s quarters. Like Aria, he could see through walls.

“I think that’s enough,” Werri said.

Tivelo put down his papers and rose to his feet. A moment later, he appeared in Achi’s room, on the other side of the table. Achi stiffened, indicating that he sensed the presence, but did not look up from his task.

With a quarter of the cake gone, he turned to the rest of the meal. He took bites out of a roll, drank some soup at random, and ate a handful of nuts. Then, he washed all of it down with some water, drinking straight from the jug.

With a dull thunk, he set the half-empty jug on the table and finally looked up at Werri. It seemed to Aria that he deliberately avoided his father’s gaze.

“That should be enough, yes?” He asked.

Werri nodded, still seeming stunned and a little distressed. He cast his gaze from father to son, and held his tongue.

“Good.” Achi washed his hand in the same jug he had drunk from, then walked around the table, pointedly pushing past his father, and through his bedroom door. From there, he entered his closet, dragged a leather trunk from beneath a shelf and threw it open. One armful of shirts went into it, carelessly grabbed from their shelves and followed by an armful of trousers. All of the clothing was in pale colors: grey, green, brown.

“What are you doing?” Tivelo asked. He sounded more curious than upset.

Werri had taken his leave, slinking out during Achi’s march.

Achi received the question with a smile. With one foot, he kicked the trunk closed and replaced the latches.

“I’m giving you an opportunity,” he said. “Today, you can finally decide if I am your son or your prisoner.” He lifted the trunk so that it sat on its short side with the carrying handle facing up. “Sons can go where they want. Prisoners stay in their cells and have three meals a day.”

Tivelo gave a long-suffering sigh, as if his toddler had proclaimed a desire to go tiger-wrestling. “You are not well enough for this.”

With no response, Achi picked up the trunk, pushed past his father, and returned to the receiving room. Tivelo sighed again and followed after him.

“Sit down,” Tivelo said. “We’ll talk.”

Achi ignored him and pulled on the door leaving his quarters. It did not budge. He put down his trunk and repeated the action with both hands to the same result.