Gods of Earth (20 page)

Seth followed Chance to his room.

“Sit,” the coyote told him.

Chance sat on the edge of the bed.

“I found her. Lu-lu-lucky.”

Seth struggled but got the story out. Sarah had crossed the Long Walk Bridge that stretched from the eastern shore of the Usin River to the southern tip of the Crystal Wall. She had screamed at any who passed that an army of the soulburdened gathered in the hills behind her and would attack soon. She was taken for mad, and a group of the city guard had seized her when she crossed the wall and galloped down the ramp and into the crowds of a market.

“They were tu-tu-turning her back, when she spoke of the god, and of you. One of the City Guards had been here that first day we came to the Broken Hand Tha-Tha-That Reaches. He took her to a Councilor. And they summoned me.”

Chance touched Seth’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Seth nodded.

“What about Paul?”

“Still there. With the go-god.”

Chance pressed his hands to his eyes. “May God protect him.”

“A-amen.”

“Why is she afraid of me?”

“Don’t know.”

He put his hand again on Seth’s shoulder.

“You should go to Sarah. You’re the only person she knows here.”

Seth licked his hand and padded quietly from the room.

Chance knelt and prayed for Sarah and Paul. And then paced until he heard the others pass outside his room. He went into the hall. The Guardian stood before one of the empty rooms; the low voice of Thetis sounded out from within. Chance waited, watching, hoping to be able to learn something without approaching, but the Guardian did not move or speak. Chance returned to his chamber. A driving pressure in his chest made him turn in circles and walk back and forth from one corner of the room to another.

“Suffering prepares the heart for future grace,” he told himself; a passage of the Book. But the words sounded hollow to him.

An hour passed before the Guardian came in.

“The god is near. Ready yourself, Puriman.”

“And Paul?”

“It still has your brother. But he may be unhurt.”

“But how is Sarah?”

“The god has bent her mind. Her soul will be sore for some time.”

“Can I see her?”

“Not now.”

“Ah,” Chance groaned. He pressed his palms hard against his forehead, as if to grind away his thoughts. “She knows I am not a Puriman. I disgust her.”

“No. You are the only one here who has cares of this.”

“Then why does she turn away from me?” Chance demanded.

“She finds you fearful and foul because she kens that you gave her mother and your own father and your own mother a filthy sickness.”

Chance stepped back as if pushed. “What?”

“That is what the god made her ken.”

“But she must know that was the lie of the false god! You told her that, Seth told her that, didn’t you?”

“We told her. And she knew it already—that is why she broke free. Fierce this woman is. She was able to thwart the god. But, what the god made her ken she still sees clearly in her mind. She strives to recall the true past.”

“Lies!” Chance spat. “Lies! How can you even repeat these lies? I did not harm them.”

“Give it time to grow in strength, and the god can make it so that you did kill her mother. Give it enough time, and the god can make it so that you are sick now and always were sick.”

Chance turned and looked up at him, furious. “It cannot do that. It cannot change what was. It cannot change me, change my soul.”

“Can it not?”

“No! The world would fall apart if that were possible. Nothing would matter.”

“Now!” The Guardian stamped one foot down before him, shaking the floor, making the walls creak. A faint fracture appeared in the ceiling above them, and a wisp of dust fell from it and twisted in the air between them, to be blown by Chance’s breath as he cringed. The Guardian leaned over him, lip curled in a sneer, and spat, loud and bitter, “
Now
at last you grasp the horror of man-gods!
Now
you see what we fight! Stop your mewling, stop your bids for silly trinkets and useless clothes, stop your foot-dragging before airships! Do not make me carry you again, Puriman!”

He closed his great fists before Chance’s face. “And know that if the god halts us before we reach the Numin Well, I will kill you with my own hands rather than let it have you.”

He stomped out of the room.

Thetis brought Chance some food, but he did not eat it. He stared out the window at the empty heights of the city towers and then, many hours after the sun had set, he knelt by the bed and prayed silently.

“God. Help Sarah, and keep Paul safe, I beg you. They should not suffer, as did my father and mother, for my faults.

“God, I know I’ve broken some rules. Not the ones that I believe you really care about, mind you—I figure that it’s not hard to tell which ones are beneath your notice, and which aren’t. I’ve broken some of the ones I figure are beneath your notice.

“Of course, I know you notice everything. I mean, I mean to say, the kind of thing you wouldn’t think too hard on.

“Well. And I know that you test Purimen through suffering. Suffering prepares the heart for future grace, the Book says.

“But this seems impossible, God. Impossible. To live as a Puriman, when I’m not pure—to be a mortal fighting an immortal; to keep our scriptures when fighting the wicked requires breaking the scriptures; to love a woman who cannot, or should not, let me suit of her; to follow your paths out beyond where you have laid down paths.… Surely I can’t do any of those things, can’t see any of them to come to pass.

“So. Is that what you want from me? The impossible? Is it enough to try, maybe, to try the impossible? Am I cheating, God, to tell myself it’s enough just to try?

“I know you’re not in the habit of answering these questions. Generally I’ve thought my questions were also some of the things
beneath your notice, by which I mean things you won’t think too hard on. But now I’m not so sure, to be honest. Seeing as how I’m mixed up in the worst of prophesy.

“Still. I’ll stop here, not wait, and go on to bed now. But I’m pretty easy to wake up, should you have anything to tell me.

“Amen.”

He lay on his bed and stared up at the dim images cast on the ceiling by the distant city lights.

Chance had drifted into a faint sleep when a timid knock sounded on his door. He sat up.

“Yes?” he whispered. In the dim glow he saw the door slowly open. Sarah stood on the threshold. A bar of gray light cast through his window fell on her, where she stood clothed in a thin white robe. Her hair had been shorn to little more than a finger’s width. She had scoured her face and body fiercely clean.

“Chance?”

“Sarah!” He stood and took a step forward, then stopped himself, afraid to approach her.

They were both silent a moment. Then she rushed into his arms. “Oh, Chance. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It was so.…”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m the one that’s sorry.” He held her tightly, his cheek pressed against hers. She smelled of soap and some perfumed oil. He closed his eyes and just breathed in the smell of her. “The Guardian explained about… the lies, the false memories. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. It’s because of me.…”

“No,” she said. “It’s that thing. Him. His fault. But are my father and brother safe? Seth was not sure.”

They sat on the edge of the bed, holding hands.

“I think so, Sarah. Surely they are. They were not harmed in the barn. They got away. The Guardian said the false god left our
village the same day that we did. He would not have pursued them.”

“Thank God.” She squeezed his hands. “It made me believe they were sick, that you had.…”

They sat in silence a long while, till Sarah said, “I’m sorry about your parents, Chance.”

“Yes. Thank you. It’s.…” But he could not finish the sentence. A lump rose in his throat. After it passed, he asked, “And Paul?”

“He’s alive, Chance. He’s with the false god. But he’s alive. We can save him. If there is some way to stop that thing.”

“There is. We will stop it. The Guardian and I can stop it.”

She nodded, a silhouette moving in the dark. “And Seth. I can’t believe your coyote is here.”

“My coyote? I’m more like his Puriman.”

Sarah gave him a lopsided smile, her teeth flashing in the dimness.

“Who is the woman?”

“Thetis? She is a Mother of the Gotterdammerung. A witch, I mean.” Something in Sarah’s tone made Chance add, “Why do you ask of her?”

“I don’t trust her, Chance. She seemed… angry that I was here.”

Chance sighed. “I don’t trust any of them, Sarah. That strange unman that stood outside by you and the Guardian—the one with silver eyes—she is a machine. Can you believe that? She looks like a woman but she is a machine. And there’s another woman, a real woman, but with eyes and teeth like a cat. These are all things that Purimen should turn their backs upon. No, I don’t trust any of them. But Seth. And… the Guardian.”

“The gray man? Who had fought in your barn?”

“Yes. I don’t know why I should trust him. But he’s old. And very powerful. And he doesn’t care much for the things of our world. And that makes him honest, I think. I fear him, but I trust him.”

They were silent awhile. Then Sarah ran her hand over her head.

“How do you like the hair?”

“You look… beautiful,” Chance said, his voice hushed and cracking with emotion.

She put her hand on his cheek.

“Sarah, I have to tell you something. I’m.…” He struggled for a moment, resisting the words. He pulled his hands out of her hand and stood, and paced rapidly back and forth before her. Finally he burst out, “I am not pure.”

Sarah looked down. “Are you going to… turn? To change into something? Like…?”

Chance stopped in place. “Change? Turn? No. This is what I am and always will be. But, my birth parents, they were not pure. That’s why the false god wants me. There’s something in me that he can use.” His voice choked as he added, “I’m an unman.”

Sarah reached out and grabbed his hands. She squeezed them tightly, then pulled him to her. He sat on the bed again.

“Chance, let me tell you something. You know what I always liked about you? That you’re determined. You’ve always been a Puriman but also your own man. I like you because you’re different. You want to do things, and you are not afraid to work hard and try to do them. You believe in our way, but you don’t have patience with our faults. I like your soul, Chance. That’s pure. I don’t care about something that no one can see, something that does not change who you are, how you act.”

Chance felt a harsh mix of emotions: relief, but also disappointment that Sarah did not care about purity. Purity was the Puriman creed. He had been angry at Thetis for saying less than Sarah said now. Wouldn’t it be easy, slovenly, of him to excuse his own impurity?

“How can you say that? The future… our, our… and the Elders, and your father, and.…” He sputtered into silence.

“Shh.” Sarah spoke very quietly. “Chance, I’m going to be honest with you, so that you know my thoughts. We have to do that now.
We’re alone together here, the only Purimen. So let me be clear. You’re the finest Puriman I’ve ever known. The most important part of being a Puriman is following our covenant, with heart. That’s what makes you pure.”