The Realms of the Gods (28 page)

“What is there to deal with?” Weiryn demanded, joining his mate and child.

“She must choose,” said the Great Mother Goddess, fixing emerald eyes on Daine.

“Choose what?” asked the girl. “I don't understand.”

Mithros met her eyes with his. Daine quivered, but refused to look away. He was a god, the greatest of those who ruled two-leggers, but he was no Chaos queen. Her supply of awed terror was used up for today.

At last Mithros shook his head. “You are god-born, Veralidaine Sarrasri. Wherever the Godborn go, whatever they do, trouble—disorder —”

—Change,—
interrupted Gainel.

Mithros glared at his brother, and went on. “All those things follow. We cannot have that, particularly not on the scale on which
you
seem to create it. We must then limit the area of your influence.

“Either you now return to the mortal realms to live out your life, or you stay here, a lesser goddess. Once
you decide, you will never be able to change your mind. You will never again cross between the realms.”

Choose?
she thought, numb. Choose between Ma, who never should have died, and Numair? Her father, whom she barely knew, or Queen Thayet, King Jonathan, Onua?

But I could be a
goddess.
I could do magic like Ma does. I could visit Broad Foot's home. And Kit—seeing her won't be a trouble, since she can go where she likes.

What of Cloud, and Zek the marmoset, and Spots and Onua's Tahoi? Was she going to leave the Long Lake wolf pack behind? Confused, Daine buried her head in Sarra's shoulder. What of Alanna the Lioness, and Maura of Dunlath? Could she spend their lives watching them from the Divine Realms, without ever being with them?

Numair. From their very first meeting, he'd given her joy, delight, new things to learn. He was her teacher, her traveling companion, her comrade in arms. He was her love. When he kissed her . . . She could never give him up, not willingly.

She lifted her head as her heart turned to ice. She had promised Ma that she would return. She had given her
word.

“The immortals, brother.” A soft voice, filled with kindness, issued from the hood that shadowed the Black God's face. “For their part in Uusoae's plan, the Stormwings should be made to return here, and be forbidden the mortal realms for all of time. Perhaps
all
immortals should return. Humans have forgotten how to live with them.”

“Too bad,” growled the badger. “Once immortals had a place in things. Human mages threw them out—and
you
allowed it. You have a chance to
fix
a wrong here, not repeat it.”

The Graveyard Hag thumped her walking stick on
the ground to get attention. “The badger's right,” Carthak's patron goddess said. “And it's good for humans to have a
few
things to be afraid of. Besides us, of course.”

—For nearly four centuries, I have labored with human dreams.—
Gainel's mind voice was firm.
—The immortals evoke rich dreams without my striving. Mortal spirits were poorer with the immortals gone, human imagination less fertile. I have enjoyed a few years' relief from a thankless task. Will you cripple me
twice,
brother?—

Gold-streak put its small head beside Daine's ear and whispered, “Stormwings.”

That tiny, high voice broke through her concentration on her choice that was no choice. “What?” she asked dully.

“Stormwings,” repeated Gold-streak. “To be prisoned here.”

“Good,” she mumbled. “They're
evil;
they're—”

Memory silenced her. Cold air touched her cheek as a voice remarked, “That creature would defile what mortal killers left, so that humans couldn't lie about how glorious a soldier's death is.” In her mind's eye, a tan-and-silver figure plummeted, claws extended, blond hair and bones streaming. Dark, imperious eyes, and pale, hypnotic ones, accused her.

She did not like raids on nests for eggs and nestlings, but her squirrel, crow, and snake friends did just that. Wolves chose scapegoats to bully, hurt, even reject completely from the pack. The sight of living prey fighting a hyena's devouring jaws or of a killer whale beating a seal pup to death might reduce her to tears, but those predators could not help their natures any more than Uusoae, or the Great Gods, could.

While she thought, the gods spoke, until Mithros cut off discussion with a wave of his hand. “Very well. Those immortals who dwelled in the mortal realms at the spring
equinox may remain, if they choose. All others return here. As for the Stormwings—”

Gold-streak stretched itself wire-thin, raising its head until Mithros could see it. “What of Queen Barzha?” it asked.

Daine rose, gripping the edges of Gainel's coat to keep herself covered. “Gold-streak's right. Barzha's flock for certain—them that followed her into the mortal realms. Even—maybe even some that sided with Uusoae. Stormwings aren't humans. They aren't gods. They are what they were made to be. If you punish them for that, you may as well punish yourselves for what you are.” She straightened, looking around at that magnificent assembly. If they wanted to admit her to their number, then they would have to get used to her speaking her mind. “You'll forgive me for saying so, but you don't look like you'd care to punish yourselves.”

“Daine!” gasped Sarra, eyes wide with horror.

A weight pressed against her leg. She looked down: It was the badger.
—That's my kit.—
His mind voice spoke to her alone.

“Isn't
order
what makes you happy?” continued the girl. “Well, Stormwings are the nightmare of battle, pure and simple. What's that but a nightmare of disorder? How can you begrudge a mortal home to anyone that might scare two-leggers off war?”

Mithros glared. “The Stormwings may remain,” the Sun Lord barked at last, his voice thunder in her ears.

The marble courtyard shimmered, then stretched, creating an immense bare space at the center. The moment that it ceased to move, Diamondflame, Wingstar, and Kitten popped onto it. Kitten whistled and chirruped, her scales red with anger. Seeing Daine, she trotted over and began to scold.

“I wasn't hardly given a choice,” Daine told her, guessing what her charge was upset about. “They just grabbed me when that Uusoae appeared.”

—We
have
come to take Veralidaine home,—
said Diamondflame.
—The humans want to know what happened.—

“She may not be able to return,” said Broad Foot. “She has to choose either the mortal or the divine realms—she may not cross from one to the other.”

—And whose idea was
that
?—
Wingstar demanded. The duckmole began to explain.

“I ought to stay,” Daine told Kitten, tears rolling down her cheeks unnoticed.

The young dragon replied in a stream of chatter and croaks. Tiny lightnings crackled over her scales.

—She wants to know why,—
Gainel remarked in his soft voice.
—She wants to know why you will not go to your friends in the mortal realms.—

Kitten reared onto her hindquarters and dug silver talons into the front of the Dream King's jacket. “Kit!” protested Daine, trying to work her friend's claws out of the fabric. “See, I promised Ma I would visit. I gave my word.”

“Dear one, no.” Sarra had moved away when the dragons arrived. Now she came forward, clothing over one arm. “You don't belong here. You would be so unhappy.” She held out the garments. “I believe Gainel would like his coat back eventually.”

Numbly Daine reached for the clothes, still trying to understand her mother's words. “But—I gave you my promise. I don't break my promises.”

“You're not breaking it. I'm releasing you. There's a good man and true friends waiting for you at home. That man is a fair
strange
man, certainly, but he's a good one.” Sarra motioned, and Daine was encircled by a glittering curtain. The girl couldn't see out; no one else could see in. “Hand me Gainel's coat, dear.” A hand pierced the wall, and slender fingers beckoned. Daine gave the coat to her mother, who pulled it out of the enclosure.

Where the underthings, lavender dress, bodice, and
slippers had come from, Daine could never guess. She put all of them on. “Ma, I'm decent.”

The enclosure vanished. Weiryn had one arm around her mother; he clasped a bow and quiver in his free hand. Looking for Kitten, Daine was horrified to find that the young dragon was scolding Mithros quite emphatically.

“Your going back won't be so bad,” Sarra told Daine, eyes filling. “We'll come to you on the equinoxes and solstices.”

“But I
promised—
”

“We can't restore the years together that were taken from us,” Sarra interrupted. “It was misery, but we can't change it. Seeing you here taught me you're adult now. You're needed, and you're valued, and you're loved. Those are wondrous gifts, sweetling. I can't let you throw them away.” Tears spilled down her cheeks and her smile quivered, but her blue eyes were steady.

“She is right,” Weiryn said gruffly. “The mortals need you, as you do them.” He offered the bow and quiver to her. “Since you lost the one you had.”

Slowly, feeling numb, Daine accepted the gift. The bow changed subtly, until it fit her strength and grip exactly, as the last bow Weiryn had given her had done.

“Veralidaine, do you choose?” boomed Mithros. “Diamondflame, take your grandchild in hand!”

—Skysong, come here,—
ordered her grandsire. Kitten obeyed, still muttering.

“Our daughter is going home,” Sarra told the gods, chin high, “to the mortal realms.”

Mithros looked at Daine. “Is it so?”

The girl nodded.

“Then I return you—” began the Sun Lord.

—No,—
said Diamondflame, cutting Mithros off.
—We shall take her back. Sometimes those whom the gods return to
other realms—how shall I put it—they go astray. What a pity it would be if she entered the realms of Chaos, or of death, by mistake. Better not to take chances. Come, Veralidaine.—

She thought the blue dragon was being unfair. Still, another dragon ride sounded wonderful, and it would give her a brief rest before she plunged back into mopping up Ozorne's army.

Sarra hugged Daine tightly, then kissed her cheeks. “The fall equinox isn't far off,” she said. “We'll come to you then.”

She stepped back to let Weiryn hug his daughter. “I am glad that you were able to visit us, Veralidaine. Try not to lose that bow.”

“I'll try, Da.” She knelt to bring herself closer to Broad Foot and the badger. “Thank you,” she told them, running a hand over the duckmole's springy fur and scratching the badger's ears. “You helped save Tortall, both of you.”

“It was the least we could do for the friend who tricked Uusoae into the open,” Broad Foot replied. “G'day, then, Weiryn's daughter. We'll meet again, I know.” Silvery fire condensed around his form. Inside it, he grew smaller, and smaller, until he was gone.

Daine lifted Gold-streak from the badger's wide back and kissed the blot. “What will become of you darkings now?” she asked.

Gold-streak rubbed its head against her cheek. “Dragons invite us to Dragonlands. Darkings go there for now. We must think of what we will become.”

“Good luck to you, then,” she said.

“We will always remember you,” Gold-streak told her. It trickled over to Wingstar to climb onto the dragon's back.

“Badger,” Daine said, tears filling her eyes. “I s'pose you're done with me, now that I'm grown and know my da and all.”

He thrust a cold, wet nose into the hollow at the base of her throat. She flinched. Even after he backed away, the sense of coldness remained. Touching the spot, the girl felt a chilly metal curve, its base wrapped in silver wire, attached to a chain. Lifting the claw, she saw that it had been cleaned so thoroughly that there was nothing to remind her of the use she'd made of it. “You left that where it might have been lost,” the badger remarked, dark eyes glittering with amusement.

Daine buried her face in his heavy fur, holding him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I'll never take it off again.”

“I will check on you often, to be sure you keep your promise. You aren't rid of
me
so easily, my kit.” Rearing slightly, he nudged the claw with his nose. “Ozorne always underestimated you. It was a lesson he never seemed to learn.”

—Come,—
ordered Diamondflame. Kitten was already tucked into the circle of his forepaws and talons, safe within the great dragon's hold.
—Gods annoy me.—

“As dragons annoy us,” snapped the Graveyard Hag. She winked at Daine. “Good to see you again, dearie.”

“I bet,” muttered the girl. Giving the badger a last hug, she climbed onto Diamondflame's back, tucking her skirts so that she could sit astride the dragon's neck. She looked at Sarra once more. “Ma? Can you do something for me?”

Sarra came to the dragon's side. “If I can.”

“Can I see you as the Green Lady? Just once?”

Sarra laughed; Weiryn grinned. Light, gold and soft, gathered around Daine's ma. She grew taller. A simple green cotton dress, heavily decorated with embroideries in complex designs, fluttered around her body in a wind that Daine couldn't feel. There was a sheer green veil over Sarra's face and hair; it too fluttered
and moved as if windblown. Looking at her, Daine felt comfort and hope.

“You're beautiful, Ma,” she said quietly. “I love you.”

Sarra raised her veil. “I love you too, sweet.”