The God Engines (8 page)

Tephe recalled the gods of the other ships on which he had served. The god of the
Hallowed
was indeed a defeated thing, an inert object with a man’s shape that performed its duties in unquestioning, disinterested silence. Tephe saw it only once and would have been convinced it was a statue had it not been prodded into a small movement by an acolyte’s pike. The god of the
Blessed
, in contrast, was a toadying, obsequious thing which tried to engage the attention of anyone who entered its chamber. 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 predecessor, as a courtesy.
Stur placed his hand back on the envelope.
Before you open this, go to speak to the god.

About what?
Asked Tephe.

About anything,
said Stur.
It hardly matters. The point is not the conversation. The point is to observe it, and to see how it observes you. Talk to the god as long as you can bear to. If when you are done you do not believe that the god represents a danger to you, your faith, or the
Righteous
, then open this envelope and read what it contains. But as a favor to me, speak to the god first.

I will,
said Tephe, and then the two of them moved on to matters of personnel.

Two days after Tephe’s formal installation as captain of the
Righteous
, and after he had walked every inch of the ship and spoke to every member of his crew, the new captain stood at the edge of the iron circle that held the god and spoke to it for the length of an entire watch. No one was present other than the captain and the god.

When the captain had finished, he returned to his quarters, took the parchment envelope that he had kept out on what was now his desk, and buried it as far back in the captain’s personal safe as it would go, unopened.

Tephe had not thought about it again until now.

The priest and the acolytes chanting became subtly louder, and the god closed its eyes and its face took on a look whose meaning the captain could not fathom. There was the moment of vertigo, and then the slippery flash of some indefinable emotion outside of the human experience, gone before it could be confirmed that it had been there at all. And then it was over.

“It is done,” said Priest Andso, and for the first time looked up toward the captain. Tephe glanced at his robes and noticed something new resting on top of them; the Talent which Tephe had taken from the woman during the parade. The captain’s eyes shot back up toward the priest’s own.

The priest fingered the Talent. “An experiment, captain,” he said. “To see how the Defiled would respond—”

Tephe did not wait for the rest. As he turned, he saw the god’s gaze back on him, and its grin, silent, mocking, malevolent. The god’s name rose up again in his memory, oxidized ochre on vellum, and Tephe left the chamber before it could resolve itself any further.

Lieutenant Ysta frowned as the headman spoke, using his Talent as Gavril to decipher the burbles and clicks that came out of this other man’s mouth and render them into intelligible speech. Behind Ysta and the headman stood the leaders of the planet’s largest settlement, Cthicx, a village of perhaps ten thousand souls. Behind them, on a field the village used for games and ceremonies, stood the entire population of Cthicx, there for the ceremony to come. In front of Ysta and the headman stood Tephe, the priest Andso, and Kon Eric, commander of the Bishop’s Men.

“This is taking too long,” said Eric, to Tephe.

“Quiet,” Tephe said, and turned his attention back to Ysta and the headman. He would not know what the headman said until Ysta spoke, but courtesy demanded the appearance of attention. Tephe wanted to pay attention to the headman’s expressions and movements in any event. So much of communication was not what was said but how it was said. Eric, who was something of a blunt instrument, did not appear to understand or appreciate this.

At the Tephe’s admonition, the commander fell silent and glowered. He and the rest of his men had assumed that they would be called upon to subdue the Cthicxians in battle, quickly and violently; Tephe had had a different plan.

Ysta nodded to the headman, clicked something at him and turned to Tephe. “Headman Tscha says that they will willingly follow Our Lord,” he said.

Tephe smiled and nodded to the headman, who nodded back. “That is good news indeed,” Tephe said.

Ysta smiled thinly. “He does have conditions, sir,” he said.

Priest Andso straightened in his finery, giving himself something to do. “This is not a bargain Our Lord is entering into, Lieutenant,” the priest said. “This little man is not in a position to impose conditions of any sort. He has seen what just four of the Bishop’s Men can do.”

Tephe grimaced at this. Rather than bring down the entire host of the Bishop’s Men, he had made Eric choose three, along with himself, to be brought to the planet. Then Tephe had bidden headman Tscha to choose four of his strongest warriors, to attack the Bishop’s Men in any manner they chose, in front of the entire village. Two chose spears, one chose a bow and the last attacked with knife in hand. None of the weapons landed; the Bishop’s Men, each with a Talent of defense, knocked spears and arrows from their path and avoided the knife as if the warrior wielding it was no more than a minor irritation. Then they attacked, severing the arms that threw spears and shot arrows and the hand that held the knife, with a speed and viciousness that left the spectators screaming in terror and confusion.

When the Cthicxians’ warriors were down, Tephe had healers Garder and Omll, now returned to the
Righteous
, tend to them. They stopped the flow of blood, eased their pain, and with their healing Talent, mended the warriors. The men had come off the field of battle weakened but whole, to the amazement of all.

Tephe had shown all of Cthicx both the power and the mercy of His Lord, and having done, had asked the headman to ask his people accept His Lord as their own. It was a finely balanced display of power and grace, achieved without death or compulsion, and over the course of several days, this subtle negotiation had borne fruit.

Tephe did not now appreciate the arrogant bravado of the priest, whose excitement at the fame that converting these newly-discovered faithless would provide him had made him impatient and rash. The Cthicxians could no more understand the priest’s words than the priest could understand theirs without the help of the Gavril. For all that they surely understood his aggressive posturing.

“Perhaps they need to see some more of their warriors missing their arms,” Andso said.

“Perhaps they need to believe their faith will be rewarded,” Tephe said, with quiet sharpness. “The commentaries themselves say that that faith given is more powerful than faith compelled. Surely you recall this, priest.”

“Even so—” Andso began.

Tephe held up his hand to silence him. “This is not yet your part, Andso,” Tephe said, and noted how the man bridled at the captain’s use of his name, unadorned. “This part of our task has been given to me. I suggest you let me do it.”

Andso looked sourly at the captain but nodded.

Tephe turned back to Ysta. “What are his conditions,” he asked his lieutenant.

“He wants Commander Eric here to teach his warriors how to deflect weapons and kill quickly,” Ysta said.

“Tell him that such powers come from Our Lord, and are given to the Bishop’s Men solely,” Tephe said. “Once the Cthicxians submit to Our Lord, I am sure some will become Bishop’s Men themselves.” From beside him Tephe heard Eric’s derisive snort but ignored it while Ysta translated his words.

“He asks if Our Lord will help them destroy the Tnang,” Ysta continued, and was then silent as the headman spoke some more and with agitation. “They are a neighboring people some kilometers north of here, sir. Apparently there is a long-standing feud.”

“Our Lord wishes for all men here to know his grace,” Tephe said. “That includes the Tnang. Tell the headman that as the First Called, the Cthicxians will always hold dominion, and they will take the news of Our Lord to all others. If these others submit to Our Lord, then the Cthicxians may rule over them, with kindness. If they will not submit, then they may destroy them, and no doubt Our Lord will see them to victory.” Ysta translated; the headman nodded vigorously, and spoke briefly to the other village leaders, who seemed pleased. Tephe assumed they believed that the Tnang would not submit to Their Lord, so it was all the same.

The headman then leaned in close to Ysta, clicking and burbling rapidly but quietly. Ysta nodded and turned again to Tephe. “Headman Tscha asks if one of our healers will attend to his woman,” he said. “She has a sickness of the womb and he believes she is likely to die of it.”

Tephe looked over to the headman, who was staring at him with some apprehension. A leader who a moment ago was happily anticipating the slaughter of his troublesome neighbors was now simply a man concerned with the fate of someone he loved.