Book 2 The Gods of Light and Liars

Chapter 15: Venture

They built the pavilion again, after they'd traveled for nearly eight hours and her Fleet-Hare seemed to be growing tired. They chose a large, darkened meadow—everything was dark here, save for the dying light cast by the Temple, now a distant sun with no visible detail—and began lighting colorful fire pits around the cleared boundaries of land.

"All the plants here are pale," Hawk said. This wasn't entirely true. She spotted some lichen and deep green mosses. But most of the leafed plants were pale greens or whites.

"Aye. The green leaves rely on the Light for nourishment, and are seen as Our rightful tithe. But pale leaves belong to the Queen of Heaven and heart of the Earth. She made them, after all." A pause. "It is said that they grow best in soils consecrated by blood. Fortunately such an act must only be done every hundred years."

She'd suspected as much. The soil down here might as well belong to a cave; the only light was what came in through the hole, and that...it tangled in her thoughts. "The Nexus...it's blocking the light you need, isn't it?"

"Clever girl. Yes." And he let the words stop there.

"So you would break it down if you could, right?"

"If we could guess the right one? If we could climb high enough to battle the winds that scrape across the bones of the sky? If we had a drill strong enough? And weapons vital enough to chase off the Shadow Beasts? And then, had we all that, we would need to face the Shadow Himself, for it is His seal on the God-world that diminished both the light and the power of the gods."

And Hawk realized two things, one on top of the other: The first was that this Shadow-thing, whatever he was, was the one thing keeping Studdard in check. The second was that the Archon, who was mildly frightened of the woman who had just baked a human alive for irritating her, was scared absolutely shitlesss of the Shadow. And Hawk was inclined to trust his judgement.

"So...a good thing?" she said, very, very softly.

The Archon wheeled on her. "Never say that again. Not a word or breath or gesture like that should ever pass your lips. You will die worse than you can imagine, if such heresy should be heard by the wrong ears." His ivory mask looked left and right, as if ensuring that no one could overhear. "A very good thing."

Then he straightened up like a bolt of lightening, and she wasn't able to get another word out of him for miles.

***

Most of what they passed through was farmland. There was a modern temptation to call these "mean little fields", but they weren't that. Small, yes, and obviously family tended, with low walls built by hand from the gray stone, walls that had been there long enough for a thick crusting of moss to erupt around every facet, all of it on the Light side of the stones. But there was no meanness about this; it was too well tended, too cared for. Despair had yet to wrap fingers around hearts and minds. Were the crops failing? Hawk wouldn't know to tell. What she could recognize was that as they passed through, food was brought to Earth's palanquin, baskets of it, mountains of it, and it was taken by grim-faced green-robes without a word. There was no humor. No laughing. But then they would see the Light Archon, with his two Fleet-Hares, and faces would light up. A new basket of food would be brought forth, sometimes the mean black bread Hawk remembered from her first morning, sometimes breads so full of fruit and nuts you could break your teeth off on them. Sometimes they were even cakes, or candies, or a tray of fruit cut so fresh, the peels still wept. And to each of these offerings, Light reacted by laughing. Laughing, and he'd take a slice of black bread, or one of the candied fruit, and toss her one as well.

Hawk wanted to yell at him at first. They were going to need food beyond hardtack and oranges. But screeching at him wasn't going to do her any good, and she focused on grabbing bits and pieces from the trays that wouldn't spoil quickly. So the black bread and dried fruit, and...and cheeses would keep, wouldn't they? But no one was offering any cheeses. And then she began to realize that the Archon was handing her mostly the travel-ready foods, though enough of the sweets made their way back to get her sick. Soon both her knapsacks were stuffed, her saddle bags were stuffed, and she was balancing loaves of bread in her lap.