Deathless Gods by P. C. Hodgell

Author:P. C. Hodgell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fantasy, Epic, Action & Adventure, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781982192167
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2022-10-04T04:00:00+00:00

IV

By now, it was midnight. Doors opened as Jame passed, a shaken Jorin trotting at her heels. Within, families laid out the long-promised feast and welcomed their ancestors to partake. Did wisps pass in the street and enter? It seemed so to Jame, but she felt particularly suggestible after the night so far.

The day had been warm. Now autumn’s chill crept into the air. Breath smoked on the air. Thunder rumbled closer. Was it about to rain again, or sleet, or snow?

Here at last was the Campus Kencyrath, with horses held by squires outside its door, the breath of both steaming on the chill air. Surely that flashy black belonged to Jurik, and what about that litter drawn up next to it, draped in purple and gold? Regal visitors, this late?

Jame passed Lady Anthea’s door on the way to her own quarters. The widow looked out. “Do something!” she hissed. “That harpy is going to ruin him!”

Beyond was Harn’s apartment. A sharp voice spoke within.

“Is that all you can do for him? Paltry lessons in your oh-so-special fighting arts? I thought better of you.”

Harn muttered in reply. Jame could imagine him, hunched to one side, turning his shoulder, but against whom? “Has to prove himself, doesn’t he? The bloodline isn’t enough.”

“It should be!”

The door to his apartment opened. A woman stood on the threshold, small, shapely, fierce. She wore a purple mantle trimmed with gilded fur. “I gave you roses to remember me by, oh faithless one,” she spat. “After what you did, you owe me!” Then she turned and left. Jame ducked out of her way.

That, surely, had been Queen Vestula, but what was she doing here, much less addressing the Commander in such terms?

Rue waited for Jame in her quarters, with a simple dinner of bread, cheese, and date-stuffed figs laid out by the fire.

“I thought that you might want me here,” she said. “Also, that you might be hungry.”

“I am,” said Jame. “Ravenous.”

As she ate, Rue sorted her meager wardrobe for the morrow when High Bashti’s current gods were supposed to manifest themselves through their priests.

“You need more clothes,” she said.

“For your benefit or for mine? Sorry, Rue. I just don’t care what I wear as long as it’s clean, decent, and convenient, with a few court coats for special occasions. What does it matter what I look like, beyond that?”

“It does to your people.”

“Then my people must take me as they find me, or go elsewhere.”

“Ha.”

Yet Jame wondered. She hadn’t bound Rue, as much as the young Kendar deserved that distinction. Did Rue still see it that way? So far, she seemed loyal despite what she had first felt as an undeserved slight. A new world was coming. Tori felt that too. How would they all fit into it?

Anyway, what did one wear for a divine manifestation, assuming Dar was still available to escort her to the performance of Suwaeton’s god farce? Whatever that was. Assuming that Suwaeton appeared.

Rue had been too far back in the press to see what had happened at the altar.

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