N. Jemisin - The Kingdom of Gods

Between these two stood a third woman: the most high Lady Arameri herself, head of the family and ruler of the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, resplendent in a deep red shawl-collared gown. Then to my further shock, all three women dropped to one knee—the steward smoothly, the lady and her heir somewhat less so. At the sight of their bowed heads, I couldn’t help laughing.

“Well!” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Now this is a welcome. I had no idea I was so important. Have you actually been waiting here all day for me to come back?”

“It’s no less a welcome than we would offer to any god,” said the lady. Her voice was low, surprisingly like Yeine’s. She looked older awake, with a ruler’s troubles and her own personality influencing the lines of her face, but she was still beautiful in a chilly, powerful way. And she was not afraid of me at all.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I said, going to stand before her. I had not bothered to conjure or steal clothing for myself, which put certain parts of me right at the lady’s eye level, should she choose to look up. Could I needle her into doing so? “Very diplomatic, Lady Arameri, given that half my family wants to kill you and the other half couldn’t care less if the first half did. I assume Shahar told you everything?”

She didn’t take the bait, damn her, keeping her gaze downcast. “Yes. My condolences on your loss of immortality, Lord Sieh.”

Bitch. I scowled and folded my arms. “It’s not lost ; it’s just mislaid for a while, and I am still a god whether I live forever or die tomorrow.” But now I sounded petulant. She was manipulating me, and I was a fool for letting her do it. I went to the windows, turning my back on them to hide my annoyance. “Oh, get up. I hate pointless formality, or false humility, whichever this is. What’s your name, and what do you want?”

There was a whisper of cloth as they rose. “I am Remath Arameri,” the lady said, “and I want only to welcome you back to Sky—as an honored guest, of course. We will extend you every courtesy, and I have already set the scrivener corps to the task of researching your… condition. There may be little we mortals can do that the gods haven’t already attempted, but if we learn anything, we will share it with you, naturally.”

“Naturally,” I said, “since if you can figure out how it happened to me, you might be able to do it to any god who threatens you.”

I was pleased that she did not attempt to deny it. “I would be remiss in my duties if I didn’t try, Lord Sieh.”

“Yes, yes.” I frowned as something she’d mentioned caught my attention. “Scrivener corps ? You mean the First Scrivener and his assistants?”

“The mortal world has changed since you last spent time among us, Lord Sieh,” she said. A nice touch, that, making my centuries of slavery sound like a vacation. “As you might imagine, the loss of the Enefadeh—of your magic—was a great blow to our efforts to maintain order and prosperity in the world. It became necessary that we assume greater control over all the scriveners that the Litaria produces.”

“So you have an army of scriveners, in other words. To go with your more conventional army?” I hadn’t paid attention to the mortal realm since T’vril’s death, but I knew he’d been working on that.

“The Hundred Thousand Legions.” She did not smile—I got the impression she didn’t do that often—but there was a hint of wry irony in her voice. “There aren’t really a hundred thousand, of course. It just sounds impressive that way.”

“Of course.” I had forgotten what a pain it was, dealing with Arameri family heads. “So what do you really want? Because I highly doubt you’re actually glad to have me here.”

She did not dissemble, either, which I liked. “I’m neither glad nor displeased, Lord Sieh—though, yes, your presence does serve several useful purposes to the family.” There was a pause, perhaps while she waited to see my reaction. I did wonder why the Arameri could possibly want me around, but I imagined that would become clear soon enough. “To that end, I have informed Morad, our palace steward, to ensure that all your material needs are met while you’re here.”

“It would be my honor and pleasure, Lord Sieh.” This from the black-haired woman. “We could begin with a wardrobe.”

I snorted in amusement, liking her already. “Of course.”

Remath continued. “I have also informed my daughter Shahar that you are now her primary responsibility. For the duration of your time here in Sky, she is to obey you as she would me and see to your comfort at any cost.”

Wait. I frowned, turning back to Remath at last. The expression on Remath’s face—or rather, the intent lack of expression—made it clear that she knew full well what she had just done. The shocked look that Shahar threw at her back confirmed it.

“Let me be sure I understand you,” I said slowly. “You’re offering me your daughter to do with as I please.” I glanced at Shahar again, who was beginning to look murderous. “What if it pleases me to kill her?”

“I would prefer that you not do so, naturally.” Remath delivered this with sculptured calm. “A good heir represents a substantial investment of time and energy. But she is Arameri, Lord Sieh, and our fundamental mission has not changed since the days of our founding Matriarch. We rule by the grace of the gods; therefore, we serve the gods in all things.”

Shahar threw me a look more raw than anything I’d seen since her childhood, full of betrayal and bitterness and helpless fury. Ah—now that was the Shahar I remembered. Not that this was as terrible as she seemed to think; our oath meant she had nothing to fear from me. Had she told Remath about that? Was Remath counting on a childhood promise to keep her heir safe?

No. I had lived among the Arameri for a hundred generations. I had seen how they raised their children with careful, calculated neglect; that was why Shahar and Dekarta had been left to wander the palace as children. They believed any Arameri stupid enough to die in a childhood accident was too stupid to rule. And I had also seen, again and again, how Arameri heads found ways to test their heirs’ strength, even at the cost of their heirs’ souls.

This, however… I felt my fists clench and had to work hard not to become the cat. Too dangerous, and a waste of magic.

“How dare you.” It came out a snarl, anyway. “You think I’m some petty, simpleminded mortal, delighting in the chance to turn the tables? You think I need someone else’s humiliation to know my own worth? You think I’m like you? ”

Remath lifted an eyebrow. “Given that mortals are made in the gods’ image, no, I think we are like you .” That infuriated me into silence. “But very well; if it doesn’t please you to use Shahar, then don’t. Tell her what will please you. She’ll see it done.”

“And is this to take precedence over my other duties, Mother?” Shahar’s voice was as cool as Remath’s, though higher pitched; they sounded much alike. But the fury in her eyes could have melted glass.

Remath glanced over her shoulder and seemed pleased by her daughter’s anger. She nodded once, as if to herself. “Yes, until I inform you otherwise. Morad, please make certain Shahar’s secretary is informed.” Morad murmured a polite affirmative, while Remath kept watching Shahar. “Have you any questions, Daughter?”

“No, Mother,” Shahar replied quietly. “You’ve made your wishes quite clear.”

“Excellent.” In what I considered a brave gesture, Remath turned her back on her daughter and faced me again. “One more thing, Lord Sieh. Rumors are inevitable, but I would advise that you not make your presence—or rather, your nature—known during your time here. I’m sure you can imagine what sort of attention that would draw.”