Perhaps it was her odd manner of speech, or maybe her ethereal beauty, or the way she kept him off-balance throughout their conversation.
It was all there. Her age and odd mannerisms. Her almighty powers.
“Um, Lady Ashani? Do you by any chance know of a race of people who called themselves the Prime Imperium?”
Ashani tilted her head in confusion, frowning. “Why, of course. For what reason do you ask?”
Sweat beaded on Vir’s brow.
“Er, this may be presumptuous of me, but what is your relationship with them?” Vir squeaked.
Ashani proudly placed a hand on her chest. “Ashani is an Automaton of the Prime Imperium, fashioned by Artificer Janak as companion to his daughter during her final days.” Her voice lowered, expression darkening, “Keeper of the legacy of our people and sentinel of this forgotten mausoleum. Ashani is the one who remembers when others have forgotten.”
Her voice died to a murmur, “The one who remains when all others are long gone.”
30THE ONE WHO REMEMBERS
Silence pressed on the room with the weight of ages past. Ashani’s brilliant smile shone like the sun, clearing it.
She’s so… perfect, Vir thought, unable to wrest his gaze from Ashani’s azure eyes. They shone with a depth so deep, he could’ve believed they contained an entire realm within them.
“In simpler terms, Ashani is a construct of the Prime Imperium.”
Vir found his thoughts drifting until he caught them. This was the third or the fourth time it had happened.
What are you even doing? Vir flushed, thinking of Maiya. It truly wasn’t like him to have such thoughts. What’s gotten into me? Wait, no. She’s a being of the Prime Imperium. That makes her a living goddess. It makes sense I’d feel this way in her presence. Agh! That’s not important right now!
“You were… constructed?” he asked, partially to distract himself. “And did you say Janak? Do you mean Lord Janak? A stern, er, person, with a long white beard and long white hair?”
Ashani furrowed her brows in confusion. “Janak is Janak,” Ashani said, turning the palm of her hand up. Above it, a miniature person sprung into existence. It was made purely of Ash prana, so it would’ve been invisible to ordinary eyes, but Ashani clearly expected him to be able to see it.
“Er, Lady Ashani? Can you see prana as well?”
“Of course. Can’t everyone?”
“Er, not quite. I can, though.”
The prana image differed substantially from the avatar of Janak, whom Vir had met at Valaka Amara, but the difference was mostly one of age. The image showed a sharp young man sporting short-cropped hair and a full, but trim beard.
“Ashani is a fabricated being,” she continued, “crafted by the one who lived in this very home.”
This is Janak’s home!
Vir’s head spun. What did this all mean?
For one, it meant he was speaking to a goddess. One of the beings from the Age of Gods. Perhaps the only such being still alive, aside from Janak. Or the copy of Janak, at least.
Vir took a deep, calming breath.
“Okay, I have a million questions, but let’s start with the basics. How should I address you? You’re from a race of people we—er, humans—consider gods. Should I prostrate? I feel like I should prostrate.”
“Pfft! Deities? How amusing!”
Vir dropped to one knee in deference, but Ashani grasped his shoulder, pulling him back up.
“Ashani is no god. You may refer to her as Ashani.”
“Lady Ashani, then,” Vir said, not meeting her eyes. Out of respect, and also because he found it impossible to concentrate when he did. It was the best compromise he could make. “Do, uh… do you all talk that way?”
“Pardon?”
What are you doing, you chal? You can’t lecture a goddess about the way she talks!
“I mean, referring to yourself in the third person. It’s… unusual.”
And somewhat endearing, too, he didn’t add. Vir pictured Maiya speaking that way for a moment, and his heart nearly melted. Gonna have to ask her to do that when I get back. Then again, she’ll probably just punch me if I do.
“Oh? Is it?” Ashani asked, pressing an index finger to her cheek. “I can talk like this? Is this any better?”
“Well, I don’t know about better. Please, do what’s natural for you. I was just curious.”
I just got a goddess to change how she talks! That’s… amazing? Presumptuous? Will I be smote for my sins?
After she’d modernized her speech, Ashani had come across as casual and approachable. After much internal debate, Vir decided to treat her as he would anyone he was close to, ignoring what she represented. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to communicate with her at all.
“It was not so unusual to refer to one’s self in the third person. ’Twas considered a sign of humility. Speaking in the first person was considered somewhat rude at the time. Then again, it was millennia ago. ’Tis unsurprising for such customs to have changed.”
“It’s actually the opposite these days,” Vir said, hopping off the bench to run through a few stretches. He’d been so caught up with Ashani that he’d forgotten about his own body’s state.
“May I ask how I’m still alive? I feel… fine. Great, actually. I thought my leg was crushed, and I was pretty sure I had all sorts of internal wounds.”
Ashani tilted her head in confusion. “As Asha—as I said, nanopranites have healed you.”
“That’s the blue liquid you injected into me? I can’t say I understand, but I’m incredibly grateful!”
“Aaah! Ashani is frustrated. May I?” she asked, placing her hands on Vir’s temples.
“What are you—”
Foreign prana flooded into Vir’s body through her hands, and suddenly, Vir was no longer standing in Ashani’s home. He was in a research laboratory, wearing a white coat and poring over moving screens that flickered with light—displays. He held the metal leads of a measuring device, analyzing the signal traces of an inscription engraved within a magic orb.
Images flickered rapidly through Vir’s mind. Memories of concepts, terminologies… understanding. Words like current, potential difference, vacuum, atoms, and more flooded into him. Nothing complete—only fragments of ideas—but it at least allowed him to understand her words. Like knowledge he’d once learned and then partially forgotten.
Vir nearly collapsed when she took her fingers away moments later, reeling with nausea that threatened to make him retch.
“Your physiology is too different from my people,” Ashani said with a frown. “It seems we are incompatible.”
“What was that?” Vir breathed when he’d recovered from the ordeal. “That was incredible!”
“Telepathic transfer. I promise you, I am not normally this bad at thought transference. I feel this was a failure. It is certainly not because I am out of practice,” Ashani said, pouting.
“No! Not at all,” Vir replied, shaking his head vigorously, earning him a satisfied nod from the goddess. “I can’t tell you about most of what you showed me, but at least I know what you mean now. Those pranites—they’re like tiny bugs, aren’t they? They’re flowing through my blood, healing wounds, and doing all sorts of other things?”
Ashani’s face lit up. “Yes! Excellent.”
“Do you know how long they last? Something like this would be incredibly useful for me.”
“Not long, I’m afraid,” Ashani said. “They will dissolve once their prana reserves deplete. Many have already been consumed to restore your injuries.”