Chapter 32

Danel slept fitfully on the soft pallet they had shown him in one of the many rooms of the dwelling. He had been hoping for a bed and had been disappointed. Despite his hopes for dreamless exhaustion, his dreams were vivid and terrible. More than once, he had jerked awake just as the god reached out to destroy him. He cursed his vivid imagination.

In the morning, they all looked worse for wear. Nonetheless, Danel was pleased that the geas was about to be fulfilled and the load lifted from his internal organs. Even if he died this day, the dissipation of the godly burden would still be worthwhile.

They ate their breakfast of an odd porridge with fruit and flat bread in silence, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Danel grasped the tear of Atuwati in his fist as it lay on its chain against his breast. He had doubts that such a tiny thing could save him from a god.

“How does one kill a mad god?” Janner asked, breaking the stillness. “My sword and spear will do nothing.”

“You don’t,” Rahim rumbled after a moment’s contemplation. “If they could have killed the god, the other gods would have done it from the first. Instead, they built this place to contain the god.”

Danel stirred as Rahim’s observation sunk in. “Even more, the other gods will not dare to draw near to this prison. We’re here because they cannot come themselves.”

Janner snorted. “Can not or will not? I’m not convinced.” The question left everyone uncomfortable. The men squirmed in their seats silently for a time.

“Perhaps a battle between two gods would be enough to destroy the world with the unleashing of their powers,” Rahim mused. “I wonder what Master Ibados, Blessed be he, knew.”

“Enough,” Danel snapped. “We will not indulge in metaphysics and idle speculation today. We need to keep our eyes and ears open. There must be instructions or a tool we can use. Ibados wrote that we would come. Surely, he left some manner of instruction as to what we are supposed to do with a stirring god.”

“You’re an optimist,” Janner said. “I hate optimists because they are more likely to get me killed. Give me a pessimist any day.”

“Our hosts arrive,” Rahim cautioned. He stood and faced the door.

A delegation of three people stepped into the room. The one on the left threw back his cowl, revealing himself as Jabali, their guide. The one in the middle only pulled back her cowl enough to reveal her face; she was the interlocutor from yesterday. Danel assumed the other was their boatman.

“We come to send you on your way down the canal,” the old woman rasped. “Among our people, we bless those who make the journey, but you are not of our people. You are of the blessed humans, the ones who are able to move freely among all the lands of the creation. What blessings do you need if you already have everything we do not?”

“We do not have the blessing of Ibados, Blessed be he,” Danel said. “We do not have your history, your knowledge, or your nobility. The three of us come from different places with different lives, but we do not consider ourselves closer to the gods or more blessed by the gods. Whatever vanities I may have had, they have been thoroughly stripped from my being with my descent to your domain.”

“Fine words, but we have no nobility,” she said.

“Master Ibados thought so,” Danel countered. “If he with his great wisdom and experience declared you as such, who are you to deny it. Yet, this is an absurd argument. The gods will not come here and still, you dwell here. By that fact alone, you stand out as a higher calling.”

Danel felt the words roll of his tongue, wondering why he was making statements so adamant, so certain that this woman had to comprehend the essence of his words. He was a Librarian, and the entire building was his responsibility as his elders had taught him. He was a master, albeit a much reduced one from the heights of Ibados himself.

He considered: Everything they taught him was based on the premise that there was nothing of note below. There were no Talurie, no godly artifacts, ancient devices, or mysterious rooms whose function no one understood anymore. They taught him the arrogance of order and category. Even then, deep down he knew they were misguided. As Frage had often chastised him, he spent too much time thinking with his dick. He would do and did do anything that shied away from confronting the wrongness he sensed in his heart of hearts; he was drawn easily to any distractions.

Standing before these misshapen humans, he wanted to do the right thing, to act with integrity. They deserved to be praised, not forgotten. He wanted to address the wrongness. ‘I guess this is what they call an epiphany,’ he thought to himself.

The Talurie stared back at him in silence. She bowed her head slightly, once, and turned on her heel. She left silently and without offering a blessing.

“Did you mean what you said,” Jabali asked. “That we are noble?”

“Yes,” Danel said, “without qualification.”

Jabali said, “How strange your words sound in my ears.” He told them to leave their gear and follow him to the boat.

They stepped out onto the promenade from a different entrance. Overhead was a second promenade, and it was crowded with many robed figures. They were murmuring among themselves; the words were muffled to Danel. He sensed an excitement about them though there was gulf between them above and his party below. He considered waving to them and shouting “hello,” but he was unsure how such a greeting would be received. The Talurie had kept themselves isolated from most others since they arrived. As Danel now assessed, there was a significant population of them.

“Here,” Omari said, pointing to a board laid across the boat, “step here.”

With a second glance towards the balcony, Danel carefully maneuvered his body into the boat, which rocked with every little movement. He duck-walked to the front. As he settled on the little board, he felt Rahim and then Janner come aboard. The boat felt tipsy under his butt, but Danel presumed that the Talurie wanted him to get to the end. “This is the final leg,” he repeated to himself, trying to keep his confidence buoyed.