Page 68 of The Moon Blessed King
‘No, I don’t need to be alone from you.’
Elician smiles, soft and gentle and pleased. He nudges Cat’s shoulder with his own and Cat tilts. Lets his head rest against Elician in a position that comes so naturally after so many weeks of practice. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ Elician entreats, wrapping his arm around him. Five words that a simple inquisitive hiss could have accomplished. Or perhaps it is more like six words masquerading as five. Contractions are funny like that.
Elician smells like dust and sweat, earth and water. It is sour and stale, and Cat treasures the scent anyway. It is warm as it enters his nostrils, and it fills him with a creature comfort that reminds him of living in the cool dark pits of the Reaper cells.
Reapers are not encouraged to touch others. A touch means death and death meansending. Reapers are kept as solitary things so that they can ensure that life flourishes for as long as possible. Perhaps for some, it is better that way. Perhaps it would have been better if Water and Earth had not evolved enough to provide consciousness to thecreatures they made. If those consciousnesses did not strain for life more than Water strained for death.
‘I’m thinking about water…and earth…’ Cat replies. ‘Of souls in the water moving from one place to another but barricaded by stones you have to move aside. Everywhere except for here, where nothing flows at all.’ Elician had been so very specific in his explanation on how he brought back the people of Altas. And now, Cat feels it all around. Water, earth…and a great yawning emptiness where something else should be. Every body is filled with a mixture of the two. Inorganic compounds, made mobile by the water that carries them to creation. And yet, ‘What do you think a soul is made of?’
Elician frowns at the question. Cat presses on. ‘If a body is a physical thing, a manifestation of water and earth – then what does it mean when a soul cannot be found? If it isn’t made up of either of those…then whatisit? Why can’t you, or anyone, simply…restart the chemicals that make a body work? Force action into a corpse whether the soul is there or not?’
If death is an end, permanent and unforgiving, then what is the difference between a body touched by Death and a body touched by a Reaper?
‘I don’t know, love,’ Elician answers at long last.
‘What did they feel like when you moved the boulders in the water?’ Cat asks. ‘The souls…when they passed you, what did they feel like?’
‘It…it felt like the wind. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, with the ground so far below you that you can’t quite see it properly. And then, there on your own, something brushes along your arm. It isn’t rough or hard, it isn’t soft or gentle. It is nothing at all, and yet it must besomethingbecause you felt it. There on your skin. And you can turn and look in every direction, you can squint as far as the eye can see, but it will not be there. And sometimes the wind is swift, and sometimes it is slow. It is a presence, but it existsentirely of its own making. Unwilling to be grasped or contained. For if you contain the wind, it would cease to exist. When I moved the boulders, when I let them move again, it felt like that…just like the wind.’
And there is no wind in Endura. There is no soul to be found. ‘What do you think Life wants?’ Cat asks.
‘Life?’ Elician asks.
Cat hisses in agreement. He shuffles closer still, warming himself against Elician’s side. ‘You’re a Giver,’ he explains. ‘Givers followLife, don’t they? So, what do you do for Life? What does he desire?’
Cat knows his own answer, with respect to Death. It is embarrassing, in a way, how easily it came to him and how useless it seemed in the end. He does not care what Death wants of him. Death made him a Reaper. She saw him drown, and she gave him something of herself rather than let him return to the earth.
As far as Cat has ever been concerned, he does not owe the Moon Goddess, Death, anything. Being a Reaper has been a curse for his entire life. Fen was terrified of him when they first met, and he still is not sure if she has fully accepted him or merely made an exception for him that fits inside her own social values and moral codes.Heis different because he is her friend, but therestof his kind…are best left ignored and cast aside. Elician has never feared him; it made caring for him that much easier. But it is Lio that Cat cannot truly quantify. Lio did notfearhim, exactly, when they first met. He was cautious, certainly, but he existed near Cat with the knowledge that if something happened, Elician would save him. It had given them both the start of a relationship that had no other comparison, and when Lio returned from the cells, that relationship had been twisted around a rod of understanding.
Somehow, Lio understood that which Cat had never thought could be explained.
None of those relationships have been made any easier or stronger by being a Reaper. It has hurt and it has been painful from themoment their interactions began. But that has always been beyond him, beyond his ability to control. Their initial reactions were a result of their prejudice towards his kind. But what about to his existence, on its own?
He cannot imagine the person he would have been had he not changed. He could imagine that life: his father, the Blue Palace, perhaps even a place at court. But he could not see himself in any of it. That person is not him anymore. He is…a catalyst for possibility, one way or another. And though his life has been hard, he can’t wish it was different.
So, Cat does not care what Death thinks of him or what Death wants of him. He cannot begin to contemplate her plan, her method or her intentions. She has given him something, and he will make the best of it. He will love it, even if all the world despises it, because it is his. But as for her desires or inclinations…those are hers to wish for, and he will only adhere to them if they align with his own.
‘Shall I tell you a secret?’ Elician asks him. ‘I have never prayed to our Sun God, Life.’
‘Never?’ Cat cannot imagine it. There are rituals and celebrations and grand temples. As a prince, Elician had to attend all of those. The people of Soleb are not shy in begging Life to continue their good fortunes, to keep all the good things in the world exactly as they are. And Elician…he would have been looked upon to do the same.
‘Never in earnest,’ Elician agrees. ‘I never asked for his guidance…his wisdom, his blessing. I never wanted his eye on me or his restraining hand keeping me safe from Death’s will to change. Clerics and devotees insist that Life can hear you when you pray, that Life is all around, constantly listening to us like he has a million ears and nothing better to do. And when I think of Life, all I can think of is that I have nothing at all to say to him. And even if I did say something to him, would it even matter? Everything dies eventually. So why bother arguing with the progenitor when his stay of grace is only ever temporary?’ His answer is, unfortunately, unsatisfactory.
I cannot tell you what you will need to know when you meet Death,
Marina had written to him.
You will meet her and you will need to speak with her about what you are and what you want. But I cannot tell you how to answer, or what the truth is that she wants you to seek. You have to find that out for yourself. It’s a vow that I made long ago, to ensure that the answers of Life and Death are discovered on their own. But you need to think about what you really want, Alest, and you need to believe it with all your heart.
Marina had told him the story of Life and Death. It is a story he already knew. But perhaps he did not know it well enough. ‘How would you do it?’ Cat asks. ‘Talk to a god? Pray?’
Elician is quiet – as quiet as the city. He sits and he holds Cat close, and when he speaks it is with resignation. ‘The only god I’ve prayed to is Death,’ he admits. ‘And it was to ask that…people I cared about died well. That their passings were gentle and that their souls were at peace.’
There is an undercurrent of something in Elician’s voice. ‘You prayed after I died,’ Cat guesses. It feels presumptuous. They had not met back then, but when they did, Cat remembers all too well the subtle thread of shame that wove through Elician at the memory of Cat’s first death. Elician had watched his family and kingdom celebrate Stello Alest of Alelune’s drowning, and it fractured something in Elician’s soul. It shook loose some of his faith in his father and for their kingdom.
‘Everyone was so happy,’ Elician murmurs. ‘You deserved more than that.’ Perhaps he did. Cat cannot quite say for certain. He survived, if being a Reaper counts as surviving. And he eventually metthe only person who has ever admitted to mourning for him. That counts for far more in his opinion.
‘So, you prayed to Death. How?’
