The Gospel According to Verdu (a Steampunk Novel) (The Brofman Series) (24 page)

“That you have, Erato,” came the chorus of divine voices. The sound of the continuum of gods pushed through and between every sinew of his mind. “But the mistakes came long before now.”

He was relieved to feel the crush of the gods. Despite the pain, he had missed the comfort of knowing their presence. “Guide me, please. I want to right the course of those you charged me to lead in your work.”

“Do not misunderstand, dear Erato. We are pleased with your devotion and guidance; it is we who have made an error.” The chorus echoed the essence of
pleased
through Pranav Erato. The waves of gentle acceptance wrapped him in ease and youth and the smell of sun-dappled shadows. It felt like a reward for which he could only hope to someday be worthy.

The chorus continued, “Even gods make mistakes. Can you believe that? We chose to gamble the continuum on a handful of mortals, of which you are but one. We chose to imbue these few, one to another, with the infinite bindings that link us to all humanity.” The collective voice of the gods took a tone that Pranav Erato could only interpret as embarrassment. “We forget sometimes that people cannot be as gods. We do not always understand that physical distance will separate human souls.

“You were right, Erato; you saw it clearly for what it was when we could not. Our Pramuc and her Companions, once touched by the bond, are as we: a continuum. We bless the bond. Separation is not advisable. The torment of their nature without the balance of the others is . . . unmanageable.”

Pranav Erato concentrated on the meaning of the gods’ revelation and worried aloud, “Chenda—is she as bad off as Fenimore and Verdu are? What of Candice?”

“The Scholar is a clever girl. She has knit her ties to another. She struggles with her nature, but finds relief in her chosen man. She will be able to resist the bonds this way for a time, but not forever. The man is bound, and he is compelled to follow her, even to risk his own life and others for her. We bless the bond.”

“And Chenda?”

“She carries one other with her always. He was the one who burned her and set the fire within her for us to bless. His soul resides with her, as she took his life. She pains for her loves, her living Companions, but she is stronger than the rest; she bonds with everyone whom she blesses. In that way, she is part of
our
continuum. We bless the bond.”

The void around Pranav Erato shimmered with the bonds. He could see the millions of threads that tied Chenda to the gods, the Companions to Chenda and to one another. More delicate threads wove outward, touching those blessed by the Pramuc, both living and dead, the faith spreading from those souls to others, and away into infinity.

The gods moved Pranav Erato to the center of the web, unceremoniously hanging him in the thick cables that led down from the gods’ ethereal nebula to the heat of the Pramuc. She was not in the center of the triangle of Companions as he would have thought she would be, but more to one side, orbiting the dead soul of Daniel Frent. He could see how their lives had tangled in threads of trust, betrayal, envy, murder, and forgiveness. She had killed him, and had thus created a heavy and eternal bond. Across from Chenda was Candice, and the two were bonded nearly as strongly as Chenda was to Daniel. Pranav Erato could see the bonds of a mother’s protection and a daughter’s respect, the ties of shared hardship and joy, the shared affection for a long-dead lover.

Crossing the women’s ties were those of Fenimore and Verdu. Their bonds shimmered in many colors, and several of the threads that wound around the pair started as one strand then divided between the two—one thread shared, both men bound mutually, perhaps even interchangeably. They were bonds of brotherhood, the closeness of sharing tight quarters steeped in many years, the knitting together of two twinless twins into a state closer than lovers or family.

“We bless the bonds,” the gods intoned once more, pride ringing through the chorus. The hands of the gods personally tied many of the bonds between Fenimore and Verdu.

Candice and Chenda, Verdu and Fenimore—their bonds formed an X within a diamond. When examined from this vantage point, it was plain to see that the bonds between them were unbreakable, and like apple trees without bees or clams without the tide, one would not survive long without the other.

Slowly, Pranav Erato slid down the divine cables, losing his overview and melting into the ties that surrounded his people and the Companions. Ahy-Me’s spirit was tethered there as well, her ties so similar to his own, but with shimmering new ties spinning away from her, another split thread linking her heart to half of Verdu’s and half of Fenimore’s. There were many other similar ties around the Pramuc’s diamond. He felt their ties and knew them to be eternal, as were his to them. He could see the vital life force flowing between and among the souls present, fueled by gods and man alike. At the moment he realized that the ties to humanity fed the gods just as the gods fed the people, the vision of the interlaced strings vanished from his sight.

“And now you see,” said the chorus, the tone of some voices confessing to a secret, others speaking in pride or fear. Pranav Erato did in fact see, more than he wanted to. He knew that the ties that made the Companions strong, the gifts given and blessed by the gods, were also a vulnerability that the gods could not have foreseen.

“Our mistake was to separate for so long,” Pranav Erato said.

“Our mistake was to underestimate the world of man.” the gods said as one. “We appreciate the irony that we have bound these Companions so unbreakably in an effort to
un
fetter the faith of all other men.”

Pranav Erato laughed in the dark, bodiless vacuum that was the home of the gods. “Well, as it seems that I can do no other than your will, and we are certainly in this together, how may I serve you?”

The tone of the gods changed slightly; they were unyielding in their command. “Reunite them. You must protect the Companions and help them find one another. Only then can they continue our work.”

“What are my assets for this task?” Pranav Erato asked. Stunned silence was all that answered him, and he returned to patient waiting. It seemed that the gods had withdrawn, presumably to consult among themselves. The perspective they had given him was helpful, but what he really needed was a little omniscience. Maybe some selective prescience would be handy. He would settle for few key facts to just tip the scales toward success.

“I really need to know where Candice and Chenda are—that would be the least you could offer,” he shouted into the nothingness.

After a moment, the chorus responded in a tone of pleasure. “We can share with you that which you require. Chenda approaches the Tugrulian coast just south of the city of Kotal and has many faithful to guide her. Her intention is to use the powers we have given her to step onto the continent and walk boldly to the palace. We foresee little trouble for her, so long as she continues apace.

“Candice is in the custody of the government of the emperor. She will be executed in five days’ time in a public beheading in the market square between the ruins of the Dia Orella and the palace.”

Before the thought was even fully into his mind, without ceremony or polite good-byes, Pranav Erato found his consciousness thrust back into his body. The push was made with such force that he shot upright from his thin pallet of ragged blankets shouting “
Executed?
”—all but startling the moss bread out of both Fenimore and Ahy-Me, who had been nodding off by the dim fire.

chapter 16

Disclosure

One more day, that was all that she would endanger her new friends on the
Tao-Tallis
. The last few vessels to come alongside the Mae-Lyn ship cutting through the waves were almost more than her nerves could bear. Would this boat bring the attack she had been dreading? Who among the visitors were spies, looking for her? She tried not to think of it, not to see villains in every stranger. She spoke to each from the heart, proving her authenticity with her small miracles and blessing the believers. This was what the gods had chosen her for. This was why she had been imbued with power—to prove there was a reason to have faith.

She challenged herself to swallow her fear and aimed to turn the hearts of her enemies with kindness and goodwill. However, lurking within her was a readiness to defend. She would allow nothing to stand in her way, to keep her from finding Fenimore and getting him back to where he belonged—with her.

A crewman of the
Tao-Tallis
called from high in the rigging. Another vessel approached, signaling a rendezvous. Chenda’s gut tightened. Rainor watched the ship though his spyglass, then turned to Chenda. “I know this one; it’s the
Fair Wind
, the ship of my younger brother, Ollim. Fear not, Pramuc.” He shouted to the men in the rigging, who began waving flags vigorously at the other ship. Rainor disappeared belowdecks muttering about telling his wife that family was on the way and to get the letter bag together.

Chenda went back to her favorite spot at the bow of the
Tao-Tallis
and watched the other ship change direction in the water to come alongside. The
Fair Wind
was slightly smaller than the
Tao-Tallis
but was just as meticulously maintained, with glistening decks, spotless brass railings, neatly organized ropes, well-mended sails, and polished pulleys throughout. As the ropes were exchanged and drawn taut in the usual way between the ships, Chenda saw someone who could be no other than Rainor’s brother standing at the rail. The black hair was long and drawn back into a neat knot at the base of his skull just like his brother’s, and the two had identical eyes.

Rainor, with his wife and behind him, bounded onto the deck from below, clapping and waving at the visitors. Ollim leaped from his ship to his brother’s, grasped Rainor by the head, and kissed each cheek. He greeted his sister-in-law with equal gusto, then swept Afham into his arms for a hug forceful enough to crush a tiger. Afham giggled and squirmed as small boys do when faced with familial affection, but, when released from his uncle’s grasp, he did not fall to the deck. Dangling from his uncle’s neck, he threw his leg over Ollim’s elbow and scrambled up to the big man’s shoulder, where he sat like a king.

Rainor and Ollim conversed with animated enthusiasm as members of each crew passed bundled items back and forth between the tethered ships. Rainor gestured to Chenda as he spoke, and Ollim’s glance followed. A mix of emotions crossed the younger brother’s face as he tried not to stare at Chenda. He lowered Afham back onto the deck as Rainor led him toward Chenda in the bow.

“Pramuc, this is my brother Ollim,” he said, stepping aside to give Chenda space to give the traditional Pramuc’s blessing. Ollim hesitated, and did not step forward. Rainor coughed embarrassedly and gave his brother a little shove, but Chenda put her hand up. “Please, Rainor, don’t. He’s not comfortable with the blessing. It’s fine.” She smiled at Ollim as warmly as she could. Afham began chattering away at his uncle, pointing at Chenda and gesturing to the sea. She could not understand much of what he was going on about, but she guessed it was a big fish story of some kind. Ollim patted him on the head as he proudly finished his tale.

“Afham says you are a goddess of the sea—his own personal one at that.” Ollim turned his full attention to Chenda, his dark-rimmed eyes critically examining her every feature. “My brother, too, sees the world and heaven in you. What do you say?”

Afham, blissfully ignorant of the language of Kite’s Republic, dangled from his beloved uncle’s wrist, unaware of the embarrassment Ollim had just heaped on his father. Chenda laughed, and answered as honestly as she could. “I am a daughter to some, mother to others; a friend, a wife, a widow, a lover, an aeronaut, wise beyond my years in some ways and a fool to my core in others. Just like anyone.” She brushed her hands together as if to dislodge a bit of stubborn dirt, discarding it. “I can do a few tricks that others can’t. The gods gave me that little gift, payment in trade for me carrying their message of faith through to the people. I am the Pramuc, or so I am told.

“My friends, however, call me Chenda.”

From the look on Ollim’s face, she couldn’t tell if she had disappointed him or if he accepted her answer. He shrugged once and said, “I guess it doesn’t matter. You are my brother’s guest, and I have no authority to doubt your word. I will say that you look like you are not worth the reward that I was offered to bring you back to Tugrulia.” Freeing his hand from his doting nephew, he fished around the inside of his vest and pulled out several quarter-folded sheets of paper. He peeled open one of the pages and showed it to Chenda.

Centered on the sheet was a line drawing of Chenda. She couldn’t read the sharply angled Tugrulian writing below her face, but the large string of numbers beneath hinted at a bounty amount. “Not a great likeness,” she said. “They have the eyes all wrong. Honestly, I have never scowled like that in my life. I think not.” She handed the paper back to Ollim. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you too much. I’m likely to be more trouble than you know. Or than I’m worth, for that matter.”

Chenda doubted Ollim heard the last part of her remark, as Rainor had begun shouting at his younger brother. “You will do no such thing! You vile sea scum—you disgrace our house to even think of taking the Pramuc from my—”

“Calm yourself, Brother!” Ollim held up his hands in surrender, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “You know me better than that. I’m here only to warn you that the temptation for many of the ‘faithful’ is growing.” He shook the page as if it offended him. “You see the price they offer. You know several who would violate our traditions of hospitality and take her from your ship—all for the money.”

“They could try,” Chenda and Rainor said together. The coincidence broke the tension of the moment and underscored the truth of her resolve. She said, “I can take care of myself, and the family of the
Tao-Tallis
as well. Someone can offer any amount for me they wish, but I’m going to be harder to land than your average sea monster.”