lost. They accept that this is the way the world works, in part because it is all they know and in part because it is all they wish to know. They are Itempans, probably, all of them. Comfortable with the status quo.
They must be made to see a better way. It can be done quickly, but that would be violent, clumsy, crude. Itempas is not a god of revolution. Sea change, though, the transformation of attitudes and refinement of higher principles over generations? Yes. An exertion of positive influence here. A pressure against injustice there. It is what the Bright should have been, but the Bright went wrong because the Arameri were merely human. It can be done again, done right, with a god’s hand on the tiller.
Now Itempas stands at a literal crossroads, dusty and tree-shaded, where two old wagon tracks meet near the coast. They are on the Senm continent again, and if he follows the pattern she has come to expect of him, he will turn north; there’s a small mining village in that direction that looks promising Instead, he stands staring at the sign for longer than Glee can hold her breath.
She feels the moment when he makes the choice to begin, to change, because the whole universe utters a little shocked gasp. Then, slowly, gratingly, he turns southeast. The road going in this direction is wider, better kept, and the sign that points down its length reads SKY-IN-SHADOW .
It’s easier for him, once he’s walking. Putting one foot in front of the other is repeating an action he took before. But well before dark she finds an excuse to ask them to stop, and after she has built her separate fire and made herself some food—more than she needs, so, sadly, the excess will go to waste if she cannot give it to someone else, but look here is another person who needs it—he all but falls onto his bedroll. He refuses to eat from the parcel of conveniently leftover roasted groundnut and fowl in herbs. For the rest of the night he shivers and sweats, not actually sleeping but barely conscious nevertheless. When she touches his forehead, he is feverish. The infection that is change must run its course within him.
Glee keeps a surreptitious watch over him and contemplates the revelation that mortals can be stronger than gods under certain circumstances. Daughters can be stronger than fathers. The knowledge changes her, too, just a little.
And the next morning, when the sunrise makes him better, she is not wholly surprised when he sits up slowly, looking at her through bloodshot eyes. “I will help you,” he grates out.
It is the new purpose that they both need. She sees him take a deep breath after this declaration, some of the nausea fading from his expression. He sits up straighter, pushing his shoulders back. Makes another decision, this one apparently easy in light of the previous night’s cataclysmic paradigm shift.
“I would speak of a thing,” he says, as if to the fire. “You may listen if you wish. There is an order that comes of the implementation of justice, rather than the avoidance of conflict. Striking the blow to create this order requires tangibility, manifestation, intention , and in the past this has taken the form of a sword of white metal whose name cannot be said aloud without unraveling this realm.” His eyes shift to her for a moment. “Why might you utilize such a sword, if it became available to you?”
It is the third why that her parents have presented to her, and it is perhaps the most dangerous of them. After all, she is merely mortal—fickle, changeable, weak. What he describes is a degree of power that perhaps only a god can wield successfully, because only a god is ruled by purpose. But mortals are not so very different from gods sometimes, when the cause is great enough…and after all, Glee is only half mortal. The gift that he offers comes with risk—but it is a risk that she knows is hers to choose, if she wants it. He will not deny her.
So she smiles, because at last she has an
They must be made to see a better way. It can be done quickly, but that would be violent, clumsy, crude. Itempas is not a god of revolution. Sea change, though, the transformation of attitudes and refinement of higher principles over generations? Yes. An exertion of positive influence here. A pressure against injustice there. It is what the Bright should have been, but the Bright went wrong because the Arameri were merely human. It can be done again, done right, with a god’s hand on the tiller.
Now Itempas stands at a literal crossroads, dusty and tree-shaded, where two old wagon tracks meet near the coast. They are on the Senm continent again, and if he follows the pattern she has come to expect of him, he will turn north; there’s a small mining village in that direction that looks promising Instead, he stands staring at the sign for longer than Glee can hold her breath.
She feels the moment when he makes the choice to begin, to change, because the whole universe utters a little shocked gasp. Then, slowly, gratingly, he turns southeast. The road going in this direction is wider, better kept, and the sign that points down its length reads SKY-IN-SHADOW .
It’s easier for him, once he’s walking. Putting one foot in front of the other is repeating an action he took before. But well before dark she finds an excuse to ask them to stop, and after she has built her separate fire and made herself some food—more than she needs, so, sadly, the excess will go to waste if she cannot give it to someone else, but look here is another person who needs it—he all but falls onto his bedroll. He refuses to eat from the parcel of conveniently leftover roasted groundnut and fowl in herbs. For the rest of the night he shivers and sweats, not actually sleeping but barely conscious nevertheless. When she touches his forehead, he is feverish. The infection that is change must run its course within him.
Glee keeps a surreptitious watch over him and contemplates the revelation that mortals can be stronger than gods under certain circumstances. Daughters can be stronger than fathers. The knowledge changes her, too, just a little.
And the next morning, when the sunrise makes him better, she is not wholly surprised when he sits up slowly, looking at her through bloodshot eyes. “I will help you,” he grates out.
It is the new purpose that they both need. She sees him take a deep breath after this declaration, some of the nausea fading from his expression. He sits up straighter, pushing his shoulders back. Makes another decision, this one apparently easy in light of the previous night’s cataclysmic paradigm shift.
“I would speak of a thing,” he says, as if to the fire. “You may listen if you wish. There is an order that comes of the implementation of justice, rather than the avoidance of conflict. Striking the blow to create this order requires tangibility, manifestation, intention , and in the past this has taken the form of a sword of white metal whose name cannot be said aloud without unraveling this realm.” His eyes shift to her for a moment. “Why might you utilize such a sword, if it became available to you?”
It is the third why that her parents have presented to her, and it is perhaps the most dangerous of them. After all, she is merely mortal—fickle, changeable, weak. What he describes is a degree of power that perhaps only a god can wield successfully, because only a god is ruled by purpose. But mortals are not so very different from gods sometimes, when the cause is great enough…and after all, Glee is only half mortal. The gift that he offers comes with risk—but it is a risk that she knows is hers to choose, if she wants it. He will not deny her.
So she smiles, because at last she has an