Page 84 of The Isles of the Gods
I nudge the last of the stones into place on the grid and nod for him to take the first turn. He pushes one forward and speaks again, keeping his voice low in deference to Selly.
“This is different, is what I’m saying. If we do this right, history will pivot. The three of us will prevent a war.”
“That’s true,” I agree. “The hard work is done, though. We survived the attack and made it to Port Naranda. Tomorrow only the last and smallest part of our journey remains.”
“I’ll relax when it’s over,” he murmurs.
“Fair. Selly’s asleep?”
“Yes. She stole the pillow.” He doesn’t sound put out.
“It’s strange to think we might never have gotten to know her aboard the ship,” I say, pushing my own stone forward. “If all had gone well.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” He makes his move, and I make mine before I speak again.
“You care for her.”
That surprises him, and he glances up at me, uncharacteristically caught off guard.
“I’m not romantically inclined,” I say, in answer to his unspoken question. “That doesn’t mean my powers of observation fail me.”
We pause our game, quiet as we watch a pair of green sisters cross the square below and disappear into the shadows. I can see a group of the city guard watching them as well—more than I’d have thought necessary at this time of night, but with arguments constantly breaking out between captains and officials, perhaps not. The whole place is on edge.
The guards watch the green sisters make their way across the square, dipping their heads respectfully when one of the two women glances over. I cannot imagine what her business might be at this hour, which only serves to underscore how little I know about the religion of Mellacea, and indeed about its god, Macean.
“You know,” I say, watching as the women disappear around a corner, “the priests and priestesses at home might wear military uniforms, but they’re nowhere near as threatening as the green sisters.”
“They answer to a hierarchy,” Leander replies. “Which answers to a goddess—a goddess of order, the Warrior and then the Sentinel. Who do the green sisters answer to? Their god is sleeping, and even when he was awake, Macean was the Gambler, the god of risk. Who knows what he might tell them to do if he were here?”
“I sincerely hope we never find out,” I reply, to cover my mild surprise at this sort of insight from Leander. I do keepunderestimating him. Then again, I’m starting to see he’s put a great deal of effort into ensuring everyone does.
“Do you think Jude will say something?” the prince asks, shifting the subject and returning to the game before us. He told me about his encounter with our old classmate when he returned, more rattled by it than I’d have expected.
“Who would he tell? I think it’s reasonable to hope that even if he is hostile, he’ll take the night to consider how best to use the information. And by morning we’ll be safe with the ambassador.”
“I suppose so.” He doesn’t look much comforted. “I wish he hadn’t gotten away.”
“I agree.”
“Is this what it’s like?” he asks then. “In your history books?”
“What do you mean?”
“In the stories, the heroes are always full of purpose, sure of what to do. I’m just tired, and worrying about seventeen things at once.”
I consider his question. “When one reads first-person accounts by historical figures—the original sources, I mean, rather than the formally documented versions—for the most part they’re much as we are. Tired, hungry, afraid. But determined.”
“I suppose that’s true of the journal,” he agrees. “My grandmother sounds a lot less stately than she was as an old lady.”
“There you are, then.” I nudge another stone into place, hemming in his pieces.
“You could have left,” he says quietly. “When we landed, you could have taken that necklace and been on a boat to theBibliotek by now—at the latest, one would be departing tomorrow morning.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “Though if a war begins, even the Bibliotek will be affected, neutral or not. And think where it is located—there is no greater reminder in the world of the stakes at play than the Barren Reaches. Than the ruins of the city on which the Bibliotek is built.”
He looks sideways at me, assessing. “That’s true,” he agrees eventually.
I have never cared what the prince thinks of me, but I nevertheless feel compelled to clarify my position. “Beyond that,” I say, “it would have been the wrong thing to do.”
