The 13th God (The Cycle of Galand Book 8), page 19
She gave one of their nods, mouth hanging open in a grin. "Oh yes, Your Majesty! Until the day that I should die."
"Good girl."
She smiled at him, hands clasped behind her waist, and took a step back.
"You would speak of shame," Gladdic said, "and then show me that?"
The king tipped back the last of his talos. "What should I be ashamed of?"
"The heartlessness of what you have done to these people."
"Heartless? You tell lies to your peasants to keep them docile as they plow your fields to make you fat and rich. We actually make ours happy. Choose any dalaxa in this room, and they're as happy right this moment as you have ever been in all of your life."
"But it isn't real," Dante said. "It's just some concoction you've dosed them with."
"When you drink wine until you can't walk straight, and laugh at the silliest things, is that not 'real'?"
"It's not authentic. They had no choice in the matter."
The king leaned back in his throne and rolled his eyes. "If one of your peasants comes to town square and shouts out that your gods aren't real, what happens to him?"
"He's arrested."
"And in many lands he's killed, yes?"
"Some places. Not in my city."
"But you still arrest them. And in many places, you kill them. In what sense do your peasants have any choice?"
Dante drank the rest of his own talos, turning this over in his mind. "If someone dislikes their lot in life, they could run away instead, I suppose. Or take to the sea, where there are no priests listening to make sure you say the right pieties. Or they could just keep their disbelief a secret. But all of these options are a form of punishment as well, in their way."
Xanalos made a swirling motion with his cup. "Then the way we do things is plainly better. Neither your laborers nor ours have any true choice in the matter. But at least the ones in my realm are happy about it."
"But at least we tell ours the truth."
"Yes, so you say. I hope you'll still find the 'truth' just as comforting if you should ever find your head being separated from your neck by a bloodthirsty mob," the king said. Dante began to reply to this, but the king held up his hand. "I have had enough of this and will now move on to more interesting matters. So. If you are to make a new home here—and note that I mean it when I say 'if'—you should know a little something more about it. Would you like a look at some of the culture here in Harasphont?"
"Gods yes," Blays said. "Anything but more debates about who treats their people worse."
"Then bring forth the tibremos!"
Dalaxa scurried out of the way like terriers underfoot. The front doors of the hall opened and through them strode two men. They wore round black hats with absurdly long feathers sprouting from them, and each carried a bow and a bundle of arrows.
"The rules of tibremos are very simple," the king said while dalaxa scrambled about to wheel out two wooden screens to opposite sides of the hall. "The two of them take aim, then trade arrows at each other. But the goal is not to hit the other. Doing that means you lose on the spot! Rather, the goal is to get as close to hitting the other as possible without actually hitting them. The distance of where each shot lands from the body of the other tibremos is recorded and tallied up. At the end, whoever's total distance is the lowest wins. And there you have tibremos!"
Dante didn't know quite what he thought of this, but he had to admit it sounded rather exciting. And surely the sorcerers among those who'd escorted them here would heal any misplaced shots. In the meantime, a dalaxa had refilled his talos, which was excellent, because he could actually feel the first one. He turned his chair about to face the action and settled in.
After a bit of setting up, and some formal acknowledgements of the king by each contestant, they began the game. One stood in front of his wooden screen, splayed his arms and legs, and held still. The other drew back his arrow, aimed, and loosed.
The missile thwacked into the screen a hand's length from the target's right thigh. Several of the dalaxa clapped and cheered, but most of the Gorgos muttered their disapproval.
"Must have been a bad shot!" Blays said.
The adjudicator of the game went to the arrow and marked its distance from the tibremos' thigh on a length of string. Only then was the target allowed to move. He brushed himself off with a flourish that drew a few laughs from the crowd, then picked up his bow and arrow.
His shot whapped into the other wooden screen. Directly between the other tibremos' legs. This caused him to give a little jump and the gallery to break into laughter.
"These people are mad," Gladdic said, though he was chuckling along with them.
"I'm surprised there isn't any gambling," Dante said.
"You can bet there would be if we weren't here," Blays said.
During this, the adjudicator had been taking his measurements with a second string. This required him to fumble around in what appeared to be the tibremos' crotch, and the tibremos responded to this by making funny faces at the crowd. Dante didn't recognize most of the expressions he was making, but he got the gist of it, and laughed anyway.
The adjudicator finished his measurements and stepped back. The tibremos wiped his forehead exaggeratedly, drawing more laughter. Done, at last, with his theatrics, he picked up his bow, nocked an arrow, and loosed it.
The arrow hit the other tibremos square in the middle of his forehead.
As the body fell to the ground, the dalaxa tittered and giggled. Some of the Gorgos booed and flung odds and ends from their pockets at the tibremos who'd taken the shot, who stood stock still, staring at what he'd done.
Blays punched Dante in the arm. "I think that man's dead!"
"He is definitely dead," Dante said. "You don't have that much brains outside of your head and be alive."
"Just as I suspected. So why are we laughing?"
It was such a good question Dante had to sit and think about it. "I don't know!"
"Don't you see?" Kelen sounded as though he should have been horrified, but was quite pleased instead, and was mildly confused by that. "The food, the drinks—he hid it in them. He's turned us into dalaxa."
Kelen was right. And it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
11
The old Dante would have asked a bunch of dumb tired questions to make sure Kelen was right about this. But the new Dante didn't even care, and anyway, it was so obvious that Kelen was right that it would be a huge waste of time to bother to prove it. For Dante had been to the afterlife, and to the land of the gods, but he had finally found heaven.
"In hindsight, one of us ought to have refrained from eating for just this reason," Gladdic said. "But praise the gods that we were so foolish!" He lifted his fist to the air. The tears in his eyes were not tears of sadness.
"So, friends," King Xanalos said behind them at the table. "Did you enjoy your first game of tibremos?"
"Too much to even express it," Blays said. "Do they always die like that?"
"Oh no, the tibremos who are allowed to play at the court are all of the highest skill. Something like this hasn't happened here in years."
"I've always been a lucky man!"
A slow smile slid across the king's face. "That must be true. I doubt you ever expected to feel the way you do now."
"It's like the wine of the gods. You should try some yourself, Your Majesty."
"If only I could. Unfortunately for me, I have a kingdom to run, and must remain in my untouched state." He shifted his gaze between them, examining their eyes and faces. Satisfied, he gave the Hypatians' odd nod, which made Dante laugh, and stood. "You will now clear the room."
Without any pause at all, dalaxa flooded from the hall like a herd of mice. A few ran to the dead tibremos and dragged him out through the front door. Nearly all the Gorgos made a swift exit as well, leaving only the king, his assistant Taradam, Hara Canthana, and her assistant.
Blays waved at them. "Oh, are they going to join us? There's plenty of leftovers."
Between all the clatter of dinner being served and eaten, and then the spectacle of the tibremos' duel, things had been rather noisy, if not quite rowdy, pretty much since they'd entered the hall. It was now almost silent. Dante decided to solve this by humming to himself.
The king beckoned to the Hara. "Canthana, if you would. I'd say it's about time we learned who these people really are."
She nodded briskly. "With pleasure, Your Majesty." Her boots clocked across the stone floor as she came to the table and seated herself at the king's right hand. She looked across the four willing captives with unclothed disgust. "Why don't we start with your real names?"
"But we already told you them," Dante said. "My name's Dante, and I run Narashtovik."
"Or what's left of it now!" Blays said. Dante tried not to giggle. "I'm Blays Buckler, by the way. I thought we already had this conversation?"
Hara Canthana looked like she was ready to reach across the table and pick them up by their throats. "And where are you really from?"
"He just told you. Narashtovik. Except for our old friend here." Blays clapped Gladdic on the shoulder. "He's from Bressel, or at least he was. I'm not sure he's got a home now."
"You act like we've been lying to you this whole time," Dante said. "But we'd never do that!"
"Then why have you come to Harasphont?" Canthana said.
"Oh, well we did lie about that part. Sort of."
She looked to the king in triumph. "I knew I felt something wrong in the readings."
"Did I ever doubt you?" the king replied.
She turned back to Dante. "You will answer my question."
"I was about to! We came to Harasphont to destroy Olastar."
This brought everything to a total standstill. Canthana blinked several times. "Do you think this is a joke, slave?"
Dante wagged his head back and forth. "No, it's terribly important. We'll all die if we don't!"
Xanalos steepled his fingers. "Is there any chance the dalax doesn't work on them?"
"It must," Canthana said. "They didn't know we'd given it to them. That means this can't be an act."
"Then I suggest you proceed as if it's not."
Rebuked, she scooted her chair forward and leaned her forearms on the table. "Why do you want to destroy Olastar?"
"Well, the entity we told you about? He's reaching Rale through all of these portals. Most of them through the Becoming, I think, but who knows, I mean he does so many crazy things you just can't know for sure what—"
"Answer my question."
"I am." It was all very odd: Dante could tell that he should be annoyed with her, possibly something much more intense than that, but he just didn't care. Sometimes everything felt so good it was hard to focus, to do anything but sit there and close his eyes and breathe. "Okay…right. Yes. Well, when we destroy Olastar, we destroy all the portals, you see? So Nolost has to stop attacking us. Because he won't be able to attack us any more. It's actually really clever. Before we came up with that I thought we were—"
"How do you mean to destroy Olastar?"
"I don't know."
The king pulled a face. "What do you mean, you don't know? Surely you didn't travel all the way to our world in the mere hopes that you would stumble on a method to annihilate it wholesale!"
"Please, Your Highness," Canthana said. "The process should not be interrupted."
"Oh please. You aren't even using your thalan right now."
She bowed her head. "By your will, my lord."
"Just get back to it, will you?"
She cleared her throat. "The king asked a question of you."
Dante shrugged, shaking his head. "Sorry, but I don't know how to answer it. Our blue friend here's the only one who knows that one."
"How interesting." She eyed Kelen. "And have you been telling the truth as well?"
"Of course not." Though the dreamy look in Kelen's eyes made clear the dalax had him under its spell as well, it still couldn't completely remove the brusqueness from his voice.
"Then let us return to the beginning. Who are you?"
"It's pretty funny you didn't think to check with the agantha on that. I am Kelen. Kelen Diades."
"Kelen Diades!" the king roared. "Here in my throne hall! How did you not catch that?!"
Canthana flinched. "There was so much else to uncover. To be on the watch for. Everyone thought Kelen would have to be mad to try to ever return."
"Yet here he is!"
"Forgive me, Your Majesty! He acted so unassuming! Nothing like the Kelen we're told of!"
"He has been rather quiet, hasn't he?" The king leaned in for a better look at Kelen, then slumped back in his oversized chair. "I suppose he's not so dangerous now, is he? Might even be fun to ask him some much different questions later."
"I would conduct whatever questioning you wished."
"That goes without saying. That's why I keep you to begin with."
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of blue. She took a moment to compose herself. "Why are you here, Kelen Diades?"
Kelen shrugged. "As he said, to destroy Olastar."
"But what is your specific purpose in Harasphont?"
"Why should Harasphont be special? I only chose it because it was the closest city with a gate to Pholos."
"Then you don't mean to make any moves against the king?"
"Why would I care about your king? Everything here's about to be ripped apart. At least, it was."
Canthana gave a sideways glance at the king. He nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied with that line of questioning.
"What is your purpose in Pholos?" she went on.
"We've been over this," Kelen said pleasantly. "To annihilate this world."
"But how?"
"Don't you know already? Why do you so jealously guard your pathway to Pholos in the first place?"
"The Heartspring." Canthana furrowed her brow, an expression the Olastarians shared with them. "And what? You intend to…kill him?"
"Yes," Kelen said.
She shuddered. The king looked like he'd just walked in on an act of incest.
"And when that happens, Olastar goes with him," Canthana continued.
"Have you ever been to other worlds?" Kelen said. "I have. They're not like this one. Olastar is warped. Contorted. The way it's folded on itself, the bending of existence, that's what allows the portals to exist in the first place. But that's not natural. It should tear itself apart. The only thing that holds it together is the Heartspring."
"Well, this is terrifying," Xanalos said. "Now I'm going to have to wrestle with the decision to tell the other holders of the gateways, so that we can all fortify them even more than we already have, or keep this to myself in hopes this knowledge never spreads beyond this room."
"I wouldn't tell anyone else, personally," Dante said. "You'd be crazy to do that. Especially since all the gateways are already guarded. It's not like we're going anywhere else at this point, is it?"
"Indeed, and your counsel is greatly appreciated. But this is as grave as it gets, and my decision mustn't be a hasty one. Before then, I have another decision to make: what do I do with all of you?"
"Sire, they are much too dangerous," Canthana said. "There is only one thing that can be done with them."
"Hey, are you talking about killing us?" Blays said.
The king flicked his ear, thinking on it. "Yes, you're probably right."
"Don't do that!" Dante said. "You only just gave us the gift of the dalax, and now you're going to kill us? That's not fair!"
"I rarely am."
"Listen, just enslave us or something," Blays said, pointing his finger across the table at Xanalos. "You know damn well I would serve you till the end of time as long as you just keep giving us this stuff."
A fraction of Dante's mind remained clear enough to understand that he should be horrified by Blays' words. But how could he be horrified, by that or anything else, when all of the world was so wonderful? He could only laugh instead.
"Enslave you." The king reclined in his throne, flicking his ear some more. "Look, I've already got tens of thousands of dalaxa. Having four more really wouldn't make any difference to me. Not enough to run the risk that an outsider might wander through and recognize Kelen. It's not terribly wise to use sorcerers as dalaxa, either. They mean well, but they don't always understand what they're doing."
"You make a grave error!" Gladdic rose to his feet and planted his palm on the table. "We could be weapons for you! For Harasphont!"
"I don't know about that. However, you said you run a kingdom, didn't you? Are your people still alive? Or have they all succumbed to this entity of yours?"
"Some have. And to the White Lich before Nolost," Dante said. "But most are still alive. Tens of thousands of them."
"Are you actually capable of bringing them to live here? Or was that all just a lie?"
"The only lie was that that was our only plan. It's actually our backup plan."
"You mean if you couldn't get rid of this world and everyone in it."
"That's right, sire!"
"Interesting."
"Your Majesty?" Canthana said. "What is on your mind?"
Xanalos tipped his head to the side. His crown must have been pinned to his hair, for it didn't move. "Their people are all about to die. Why not bring them here and make them our dalaxa instead?"
"Oh yes!" Dante said. "Let me bring them here so they can be given the gift as well!"
Canthana shifted in her chair. "Can we really feed so many, lord?"
The king held up a palm. "We can put half of them to work on tending new crops. Hell, even if it doesn't work out, we can always just work them to death."
"This is true. Not only would they be dalaxa, but dalaxa that aren't even of our own blood. We could use them for anything."
"Indeed." The king flicked his ear once, twice, three times. "Then it's decided. Lord Dante, go and fetch your people, would you? It's time they learned how happy a life of slavery can be."
