Goddess Rising

As before, Aria went ahead of him. The next room had a similarly grand view. Two adjacent walls were made completely of glass. Through them, Aria could see a thriving rainforest. She could even hear its sounds - a bubbling creek played music; insects chattered happily.

Werri knelt and hissed for Aria to do the same.

She did so at once and greeted, keeping her frustrated sigh to herself. “Gratitude for your presence, Lord of the Sky.”

No response followed. Recalling that the Black God had permitted her to look at him, Aria cautiously lifted her face and took in the rest of the room. The furnishings were sparse. There was an ornate bed, a writing desk, and two bookshelves filled with books. If the prince spent much time in that room, it was in debilitating boredom.

The Black God sat on the edge of the bed, just as at their first meeting. Once again, he was watching the still form on the bed.

“Your Eminence -” Werri said.

“Did I permit you to disturb me?”

There was a towel on the prince’s forehead and drops of sweat or water on his cheek. On the ground, just beside Tivelo’s leg was a bowl of ice water. As Aria watched, Achi shifted. His head turned from side to side in evident distress and he mumbled something unintelligible.

Tivelo ignored the two mortals and stroked his son’s cheek. His forehead was furrowed. There was real worry there mixed with something else: fear. In just one day, she had seen one god surprised and another fearful. It felt like the ground had become the sky.

“Forgive me, your Eminence - “

“Werri, if the next words out of your mouth do not justify this interference, you will become the latest illustration of my madness.”

“The golden volcano is about to erupt.”

Tivelo froze for a millisecond, then he returned to stroking his son’s cheek. “Let them burn.”

Werri nodded as if that was an understandable response. “His Highness will be upset when he wakes and finds that thirty-thousand mortals burned to death.”

Tivelo said nothing.

“Men, women, infants, and toddlers, dead from horrific burns.”

Aria watched the exchange in confused amused. Tivelo was still silent.

“He’ll know it was his fault because you chose to watch him instead of -”

“Werri!”

Werri bowed his head, looking truly contrite. “Forgive me, Your Eminence. I know how strongly you wish to remain with him, but I also know how saddened he will be if you neglect your promises.”

Tivelo glared down at Werri, but the priest kept his face bowed.

“You are very devoted to Achi,” Tivelo said. “Why don’t I let you serve him forever in his tomb?”

Werri pressed his head to the ground. “Thank you, Your Eminence. I have no wife or children. Serving you is my only pleasure. To be granted that favor -”

“Oh, shut up. Why did you bring her?” He said ‘her’ as if he was spitting out a mouthful of snake venom.”

“Two errands, one death threat,” Werri said. “And, I do mean it, Your Eminence. I hope that you will assign me to the tomb. I-”

“Watch him.” Tivelo rose. He spent several more seconds looking down at Achi, before he slowly, reluctantly tore himself away. Aria thought he would leave, bent to the bowl of ice water, wrung out a towel sitting in it, and replaced the towel on Achi’s head.

He lingered for several more moments until Werri reminded him of the volcano. Then, he pressed his lips to Achi’s cheek in one solemn movement, and disappeared.

Werri rose immediately and went to the prince’s side. He pressed a palm to Achi’s cheek and immediately withdrew it with a yelp. Aria followed and repeated his action. Achi’s skin felt like the outside of a boiling pot. She squelched a scream and blew rapidly on her palm.

“Is he - shouldn’t someone do something?” She turned to Werri.

He glared at her.

Standing as close as she was, she could see that two more wet towels sat on Achi’s chest, but they seemed to be having no effect. He tossed his head and mumbled, once more.

“He was fine only this morning. How - “

“He was not fine. His fever lapsed during the night, then he spent all his energy running about to rescue you.”

Aria could not believe that. He had been lively. “Then, is he really dying?”

“Was that not your aim?”

Aria turned on him. “I did not kill him! I didn’t kill him! I don’t know what in the water here makes you lot such idiots, but I -”

“Keep your voice down.”

“No! Gods can say what they want - no one can reason with them anyway. But you’re a servant, just like me. Would you poison a god? Are you insane? He can take all of my memory, but I’ll still know what I’m capable of.”

Werri was no longer watching her. He had his eyes on Achi who, despite her noise, remained asleep.

“Tivelo will return soon,” he said, “remember what I said.”

Aria bit her lip to hold down her anger. She considered running again, but expected to have as much success as before. She could wake Achi, but a glance at his miserable form suggested that that would bring no help.

She strode over to one of the bookshelves. Facing it helped her hide the tears streaming down her face. What power? What courage? In the face of divinity, all a mortal could do was accept whatever insults she was given.

The bookshelf in front of her held strange books. They had no titles. Instead years were written on them. The closest one was titled Years 4950 to 5050. More books were piled on that one, each covering a hundred year period. The last one, at the end of the row, was titled Years 5950 to 6050, 800 years in the future.

Aria picked the closest one. As she opened it, papers spilled out and spread over the floor. The book, which she now recognized as merely a leather folder, was now entirely empty. She bent down, sniffling, and wiping some tears from her face, and gathered the papers into a pile.

One the first page, black ink sparkled, forming beautifully crafted words.

On the anniversary of my birth, the first day of Rumi, the year 4950

I, your treasured son, beg a boon from the Lord of the Sky. I beg that you pardon Evera for her harsh words to me. Instead, I ask that you fine her an appropriate amount in gold and prove your compassion towards those loyal to you.

There was an impression on the bottom of the page, as if from a stamp. It formed a six-petaled flower, but she could not name the flower.

The next sheet was similar.

On the anniversary of my birth, the first day of Rumi, the year 4951

I, your treasured son, beg a boon from the Lord of the Sky. I beg your kindness for the inhabitants of Echori. Their drought has lasted two years. A word from you would return rain to their land and provide an occasion for them to honor both you and me.

The other pages continued in a similar vein. There was a plea to allow mortals to plead to Tivelo when oppressed by other deities, a plea to return objects Garo stole from a lesser god, and a plea for one nation to be divided between two competing tribes.

Aria ordered the pages as well as she could and returned them to the shelf. Her eyes traveled over the other books and landed on the last one. A glance showed that Werri had his eyes on Achi, so she took the book and gently opened it.

The first page had a petition, but it was different from the others.

On the anniversary of my death, the ninth day of Uya, the year 5950

I, your treasured son, beg a boon from the Lord of the Sky. I beg you to have a nice meal today. You may not need it, but it pleases me to know that you enjoyed something.

She put the page aside to view the next one.

On the anniversary of my death, the ninth day of Uya, the year 5951

I, your treasured son, beg a boon from the Lord of the Sky. I beg you to take a walk through Ranroch. Buy some buns from the marketplace there, if they still sell them. The smell will be lovely.

Another page.

On the anniversary of my death, the ninth day of Uya, the year 5952

I, your treasured son, beg a boon from the Lord of the Sky. I beg you to declare an audit of legal cases settled over the past century. The mortals will thank you for your grace.

On page after page, he made requests for mundane activities, pleas for mortals, and pleas for other deities. The last page, for the year 5990, was incomplete, as if he had stopped in the middle of the first line.

“Aria,” Werri said.

She jumped, spun around, and found Tivelo beside Achi’s bed, watching her with a face devoid of emotion. In the center of the room, Werri was back on his knees and eyeing her in irritation. Carefully, she returned the book to its shelf and walked to the center of the room. Once there, she knelt, but kept her gaze on his face.

“You are here for the rite of atonement,” Tivelo said. He wrung out a new towel and replaced the one on Achi’s forehead. “Let us begin, then. You are charged with poisoning my son, your benefactor and the caretaker of every cursed human on your cursed plane. Do you dispute this?”

Aria grit her teeth. Of what use would that be. “What you say must be true, Eminent One.”

“And how do you intend to remedy your crime?”

Aria dug deep into her experience sweet-talking older attendants. “I cannot hope to adequately atone for such a severe crime, but I hope to heal, as much as is possible, the harm I have caused.”

Tivelo nodded. A slight smile cracked his lips. Aria glanced at Werri to verify that she had not made a mistake. He seemed wary, but no more than she expected.

“Well said,” Tivelo said. “Heal the harm you have caused. Well, you should be afforded the opportunity to do that. Do this: heal Achi. Keep him from dying, and undo the suffering he has endured during the past months. Do that, and all will be forgiven.”

Aria took another glance at Werri. He appeared unhappy, but not surprised.

She turned back to Tivelo. “I - I do not know how to do that, Your Eminence. But if you show me how -”

“If I could do it, little girl, I would not be asking it of you, would I? Very well. Since you cannot heal the harm you have caused, I will sentence you.”

“Wait -”

He turned to Werri. “Take her to the harbor in Iduomoke and construct a statue of her overlooking the ocean - three hundred feet tall. Seal her into its head. Once every hour, flames should rise from the base of the statue until they reach her at the top. The flames’ position should tell how many minutes are left in the hour. And at the top of the hour, her screams should ring loud enough that no person in Iduomoke will miss them. They must hear her exactly on the hour, every hour, of every day, as long as that city stands.”

Werri sighed, and opened his mouth.

“Plead for her and there will be room for two in the statue.”

Werri closed his mouth and bowed instead.