When it spoke to Tephe for the first time, begging him to tarry and speak, the new officer wondered if the god was trying to lure him unwarily into its iron circle, until he later saw an acolyte playing draughts with the thing, well within the circle. The god was letting the acolyte win and praising his every move.
Tephe never spoke to the god of the
Blessed
.
The god of the
Holy
was as quiet as the god of the
Hallowed
but held its dignity. Tephe would have liked to have spoken to it but knew it would not respond to him.
The god of the
Righteous
was like none of these. The god of the
Righteous
was not inert, nor obsequious, nor held its dignity. It was capricious and vicious; acolyte Drian had not been the first
Righteous
crew member who had been attacked by the god in its long tenure aboard the ship. It obeyed at the threat of punishment, and would even then use the weakness of language to perform its task literally correctly and logically at opposing ends. It tested the weaknesses of iron and human. It mocked and spat. It was chained; Tephe would not choose to call it defeated. For the briefest of moments the god’s name began to surface in Tephe’s mind. He hastily shoved it back down into its memory hole, not even allowing himself to give full voice to the name even in mind.
The god, still staring at Tephe, winked at him.
Here is the name of the god, which you must know, if only to bring down Our Lord upon it,
said Captain Thew Stur, placing his hand to a single sheet of vellum which lay on his desk. On the sheet was a long word, scrawled in an oxidized ochre hue that Tephe knew was the god’s own blood. Tephe was taking command of the
Righteous
from Stur, whose weary displeasure of the fact had been well communicated to Tephe by others. Nevertheless Stur’s allegiance to his ship was such that he treated Tephe with the courtesy owed a captain. Tephe wondered when his time came if he could muster the same.
And this,
Stur lifted his hand and placed it this time on a thick parchment envelope with an unbroken seal,
this contains the particulars of the god. Who it was before Our Lord defeated it, how Our Lord defeated it, and how the
Righteous
was built around it. You knew we build our ships around the captured gods?
I have been to the yards,
Tephe said.
Of course you have,
Stur said.
We build the ships to enclose their aura and in doing so the ship becomes part of them. Or so I have heard it said. It was not my task to know.
Tephe nodded slightly at the envelope.
You resealed the envelope,
he said.
I never opened it,
Stur said.
Nor did Captain Pher, my predecessor. Nor have any of my predecessors so far as I know.
I don’t understand,
Tephe said.
Neither did I when I took command,
Stur said.
I believed as you do now that a captain knows everything about his ship, every beam and rivet and crew member. But you have to understand, captain, that this god will know what you know about it.
It reads minds,
Tephe said.
It reads
you, Stur said.
It is a god. It apprehends things about us we are not aware of ourselves. The god—
this
god—will take what you know about it and use it against you. Use it to plant doubt in your mind. To drive a wedge between you and your faith.
My faith is strong,
Tephe said.
It would have to be to be given this ship,
Stur said.
But you have not been captain of a ship before. You have not had the responsibility for every life on it be yours. You have not had the weight of being Our Lord’s strong and flawless arm set on you. You will have doubts, captain. And this god in particular will see that doubt, because it is old and it is malicious. And it will work it against you. And it will use what you know about it to do it.
I understand your concern,
Tephe said.
But you choose not to believe me,
Stur said, and held up his hand.
You are the captain of the
Righteous
, or will be soon enough. You will—and should—do as you will. But I ask you to consider a request from your
Tephe never spoke to the god of the
Blessed
.
The god of the
Holy
was as quiet as the god of the
Hallowed
but held its dignity. Tephe would have liked to have spoken to it but knew it would not respond to him.
The god of the
Righteous
was like none of these. The god of the
Righteous
was not inert, nor obsequious, nor held its dignity. It was capricious and vicious; acolyte Drian had not been the first
Righteous
crew member who had been attacked by the god in its long tenure aboard the ship. It obeyed at the threat of punishment, and would even then use the weakness of language to perform its task literally correctly and logically at opposing ends. It tested the weaknesses of iron and human. It mocked and spat. It was chained; Tephe would not choose to call it defeated. For the briefest of moments the god’s name began to surface in Tephe’s mind. He hastily shoved it back down into its memory hole, not even allowing himself to give full voice to the name even in mind.
The god, still staring at Tephe, winked at him.
Here is the name of the god, which you must know, if only to bring down Our Lord upon it,
said Captain Thew Stur, placing his hand to a single sheet of vellum which lay on his desk. On the sheet was a long word, scrawled in an oxidized ochre hue that Tephe knew was the god’s own blood. Tephe was taking command of the
Righteous
from Stur, whose weary displeasure of the fact had been well communicated to Tephe by others. Nevertheless Stur’s allegiance to his ship was such that he treated Tephe with the courtesy owed a captain. Tephe wondered when his time came if he could muster the same.
And this,
Stur lifted his hand and placed it this time on a thick parchment envelope with an unbroken seal,
this contains the particulars of the god. Who it was before Our Lord defeated it, how Our Lord defeated it, and how the
Righteous
was built around it. You knew we build our ships around the captured gods?
I have been to the yards,
Tephe said.
Of course you have,
Stur said.
We build the ships to enclose their aura and in doing so the ship becomes part of them. Or so I have heard it said. It was not my task to know.
Tephe nodded slightly at the envelope.
You resealed the envelope,
he said.
I never opened it,
Stur said.
Nor did Captain Pher, my predecessor. Nor have any of my predecessors so far as I know.
I don’t understand,
Tephe said.
Neither did I when I took command,
Stur said.
I believed as you do now that a captain knows everything about his ship, every beam and rivet and crew member. But you have to understand, captain, that this god will know what you know about it.
It reads minds,
Tephe said.
It reads
you, Stur said.
It is a god. It apprehends things about us we are not aware of ourselves. The god—
this
god—will take what you know about it and use it against you. Use it to plant doubt in your mind. To drive a wedge between you and your faith.
My faith is strong,
Tephe said.
It would have to be to be given this ship,
Stur said.
But you have not been captain of a ship before. You have not had the responsibility for every life on it be yours. You have not had the weight of being Our Lord’s strong and flawless arm set on you. You will have doubts, captain. And this god in particular will see that doubt, because it is old and it is malicious. And it will work it against you. And it will use what you know about it to do it.
I understand your concern,
Tephe said.
But you choose not to believe me,
Stur said, and held up his hand.
You are the captain of the
Righteous
, or will be soon enough. You will—and should—do as you will. But I ask you to consider a request from your
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