The Demigod Proving (14 page)

It was a wicked thought. Wrend quashed it.

Singing voices arose from the dance floor, and the demigods in that area of the courtyard began to clap and stomp in time with the words and fiddles. Even more of the demigods, drawn by the music, swarmed onto the wooden floor. He watched the dancing as he drained the last water from his cup. No sooner had he returned it to the table, than the red-haired serving girl filled it again.

The Master lifted the last turnip from before him, and the serving girl leaned in to remove the plate.

“I’ll bring another.” She had a timid voice, and kept her eyes down.

The Master raised his eyebrows at Wrend, and looked at Teirn. “Hasuke’s death presents us with an opportunity. Locaran began as a small country, not much larger than the Seraglio and the city outside the canyon. Over the years, as the gods squabbled and died, I gradually expanded my territory a little at a time, as opportunities arose.”

“And now you want to take control of Hasuke,” Teirn said.

“At least part of it, yes. It’s a relatively large country. I don’t want to overextend myself. There are other gods who will try to seize the southern and western portions of the country.”

“Gods are greedy,” he said. “They’re always taking more land than they can reasonably handle. I’ve lived this long and been so successful because I haven’t taken unnecessary risks. I don’t want to, now. But—we have the chance to expand our borders.”

And why not? Wrend thought. The people of Locaran, the Master’s domain, lived in prosperity and peace, while the outside nations suffered poverty and strife. If more people could be brought under the banner of the Master and live better lives, why not do it?

The redhead brought more turnips and placed them before the Master. Before she could even retreat, he grabbed one and started to cut off the leaves and tip.

“So,” he said, “I have a small question for you two. I’m very interested in your responses. How should we go about this expansion?”

Here was the promised test. Or, at least, part of it. Wrend’s heartbeat hastened, rose up into his throat. He nearly ceased harvesting Ichor.

What answer did the Master want?

He looked to Teirn, and their eyes met as they had a thousand times before, when a priest or mother had presented them with a question. They’d solved scores of challenges together, by talking through the options, obstacles, and possibilities. Wrend would have liked to consult with Teirn on the best solution to the Master’s question.

But Teirn’s eyes hardened, and he looked away.

The Master chewed on a turnip, and looked from son to son. “Any ideas?”

Wrend swallowed his heart down. His head hurt much less, now. In the goblet near his plate, his reflection showed that the wound on his head had nearly healed completely.

“How,” he said, “have you gone about expanding in the past?”

The Master chuckled and shook his head. The deep laughter made Wrend’s skull vibrate.

“You’re wise to ask that. I’ll tell you after you answer. I want to know what you would do if it were up to you.” He raised his eyebrows. “For example, if I gave you this task.”

A thrill ran the length of Wrend’s spine, and he caught his breath. He’d never heard of any demigod leaving the Seraglio before age twenty, and even then they only became the third in a trio of demigods serving in a specific part of the country. They didn’t annex territories.

“The answer is easy,” Teirn said. His fists rested on each side of his plate, one clenching a knife and the other a fork. “I would take an army of paladins down there and simply occupy the land we want to take. Anyone who resists, dies.”

The Master smiled at Teirn, and an intense jealousy arose in Wrend’s belly.

“Why do you say that?” the Master said.

Teirn shrugged. “You’re god. Your will determines what’s right. If you want a territory and people, you can take them. So, I say we take what you want.”

The redhead had paused behind him. She stared at him with an unreadable expression. After a moment, she leaned forward and poured him more water.

The Master’s gaze swung to Wrend. “And what would you do?”

Wrend licked his lips, trying to formulate his answer. He couldn’t give the same answer as Teirn. It would seem he just copied his brother. And besides, a different method came to mind. A fairer, better method. As he considered it, a stubborn resolve permeated his heart. He’d never felt anything like it, never felt so certain he was right.

“I think I would do it differently,” he said.

The Master smiled and raised his eyebrows. He’d stopped eating. Teirn, too, stared at him. The serving girl had moved around the table, and although Wrend hadn’t taken a sip since the last refill, she leaned over his shoulder and poured water to the brim of his goblet.

“You’re god,” Wrend said. “A mighty and generous god. When the people of Hasuke learn that their god is dead, they’ll need direction and comfort. If you went into Hasuke and showed them your mercy and goodness, they might willingly come under your wing.”

The Master’s expression had not changed. “Go on.”

“Invite them into your fold. Accept those who come.”

“What of the others?”

Wrend took a deep breath. “Let them live as they choose.”

Teirn laughed. “Let them defy God Athanaric?”

Wrend looked from his brother to the Master. He’d made a mistake. A tightness around the Master’s eyes betrayed sorrow, a strange regret as if he’d just realized that years of effort had accomplished nothing. He pursed his lips and shook his head ever so slightly. Wrend’s boldness and stubbornness melted away, and for the second time that night, he feared the Master would strike him down on the spot.

The demigods that hung above the Master stopped swaying as the air fell still. The head of the woman lolled to the side. Her empty, dead eyes, looked to Wrend.

He waited for his punishment.

Chapter 14: Starting out at a disadvantage

Being special is not an advantage in any situation. It only means that people have different expectations for you—either higher or lower. If they have lower expectations for you, there’s probably a good reason, but if they have higher expectations, they're probably too high, and you will most likely fail to meet them.

-Teirn

The Master shook his head in disapproval. He didn’t strike. Not yet. But surely it would come.

“Wrend,” the Master said, “where did you get that idea?”

Wrend’s stomach churned. How could he be so stupid? How could he say such a thing, even if it was what he believed? Where had he even gotten the idea?

A memory came. He stood in a dining hall up the canyon with the other twelve-year-old demigods. Several more aggressive kids had just forced a more timid boy to give up his dessert. Wrend had witnessed it, but done nothing, and walked past Naresh. The priest grabbed Wrend’s sleeve and met his eyes.

“Why should he bend to their will?” Naresh said, pointing from the boy to the group. “I wonder: should he have the right to choose, and not simply bend to the will of the stronger?”

Then he let Wrend go, although the words had stuck with Wrend. They took root in his heart and grew because they made perfect sense. Why should the weak bow to the will of the strong if they didn’t want to? Shouldn’t people have freedom to choose their own paths?

Wrend had never applied that logic to the Master. He
was
god. Regardless of all other things, he was right. If he wanted something, he should have it. But did that apply to the hearts of men? If a man wanted to act contrary to god’s will, should he have that right? Wrend’s soul told him yes, but the shame in his heart told him no.

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked down at his plate, and with his fork mixed some peas into his mashed potatoes. He scrambled to think of an explanation other than the real one. “I just—they’d be more loyal if they
chose
to follow you.”

The Master placed a heavy hand on Wrend’s shoulder and frowned. “You’re compassionate and conscious of justice. But justice doesn’t take place in a void—it has constraints, and I determine those constraints. My will becomes law, and I can punish those who violate my law as I see fit. Is this not true?”

Wrend nodded. It pained him to meet the Master’s eyes. What would his punishment be?

“In time, you will learn this.” The Master removed his hand, placed his other on Teirn’s shoulder, and smiled. “You’ve already learned that lesson, Teirn. Well done.”

The words, though directed at Teirn, landed like blows on Wrend. He’d already started down the wrong path on this proving. It could end in his eventual death. This was his punishment: shame and guilt, and starting this proving at a disadvantage.

The Master returned to his food. “Tomorrow, you two will journey with me. We’ll travel with the Caretakers as they return to their counties. You’ll see the Strengthening. We’ll take twenty thousand paladins with us, and you will watch as I take control of a portion of Hasuke.” His eyes swiveled back-and-forth between the two sons. “You both have much to learn. Your proving has only just begun.”

Wrend sat up straighter. A smile touched his lips. He would get to leave the Seraglio—two years before other demigods got to. And he could still prove himself a good and loyal son. He started to respond, but the redhead cut him off as she stepped between him and the Master. Relief and confusion covered her face, and she looked ready to speak.

Chapter 15: Certainty

One of the most important things a serving girl can learn is to not stare. Another is walking on stilts in a crowd without injuring anyone.

-Marilla, mistress of the serving girls

Leenda’s legs trembled. For a moment she thought she might trip on the stilts, and steadied herself by leaning on the table between Athanaric and Wrend.

She needed to tell him. She needed to embrace him and kiss him. Goat guts!

It was Wrend. He was her mate.

She didn’t doubt it. No draegon would say what Teirn had said: force others into submission. Draegons didn’t think that way. They thought like Wrend: let others make their own choices and reap the benefits or consequences.

No doubt when Athanaric had extracted Cuchorack’s soul, he’d taken the time to let the memories drain out of it before placing it into Wrend’s body. Yet, even without the memories of his life as a draegon, Wrend would retain his personality, his attributes. He’d always valued fairness and justice. He’d always let their children make their own decisions. He’d taught them, of course, but when the time came for them to choose, he let them do as they thought best.

That was so different than humans, who simply took what they wanted. Athanaric was the worst. He’d wanted a draegon for a mount, and had taken Cuchorack from her. On a spring morning, he'd come up to their lair in the high mountains, held their pup as bait, and ambushed Cuchorack as he came into the cave.