She walked through the antechamber and entered the monastery, where there were no more fineries to distract from the hall’s true purpose. Twenty rows of pews lined the floor, leading up to the altar at the rear of the chamber. On his return, the great statue of the deity had been removed. It was the true Karak who now sat on the altar steps, hands dangling between his knees as he listened to the confessions of Clovis Crestwell.
The god glanced up the moment her feet hit the polished stone floor. He didn’t move, only acknowledging her with a slight rising of a single eyebrow. Highest Crestwell kept his posture as well, kneeling in the front pew, head bowed, hands folded in prayer, his mouth whispering his wrongdoings so that they could be absolved by Karak. There must be many, she thought, but silenced that part of her brain. Soleh clasped her hands in front of her and slowed her pace. No matter what her problems were with the Highest, she needed to show respect to her god, especially in his own house.
By the time she reached the foot of the altar, Clovis had finished his confession. He slid from the pew and kissed Karak’s bare foot.
“You may go in peace now, my son,” the god said. Clovis bowed his head and shuffled away, nearly running into Soleh. The Highest didn’t acknowledge her presence, but she swore she saw a grin spread across his lips.
It wasn’t until the sound of the outer door closing echoed through the hall that Karak gestured for Soleh to sit.
“I would prefer to stand, my Lord,” she replied.
“As you wish,” said Karak, rising to his feet and turning to tend to the candles burning behind him. “Why are you here, my sweet Soleh? It has been many days since you last visited, and I have missed you.” Moving back toward her, he looked down at her closely. “Yet there is no peace in your heart as you look upon me. What troubles you?”
“So much more than I can handle, my Lord,” she said. “The whole of your kingdom is falling to pieces. You must help us.”
Karak faced her, his glowing eyes like portals into the heart of a sun.
“What is wrong with my kingdom, sweet Soleh? And why must I help you?”
She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “Clovis is ruining everything. It was difficult enough to keep the peace before, but your Highest ordered most of the good men of the Watch into the army that bears your name, leaving us shorthanded, and replaced them with hired thugs and cutthroats. There is no honor among them and little love for you. The castle dungeons are overflowing, as are the tombs. The merchants are fearful of selling their wares, for the thieves and delinquents the Watch had kept under control are now running unchecked. The new Watchers either can’t handle the situation or won’t.”
Karak sat once more on the edge of the altar and lifted his hands, palms up. “What would you have me do?”
“For one, you can order Clovis to return the men of the Watch to their posts!” she replied, her frustration robbing her of her better sense. She immediately reined herself in. “I apologize, my Lord. I meant no disrespect.”
“None is taken.”
“My point is this, my Lord…even before the Highest spirited our best guards away, the city was growing difficult to manage. Haven is a tiny community. Barely a thousand live there, of which perhaps half might be capable of mounting a resistance-much less than Clovis now has at his disposal. He has no need of so many soldiers!”
“Would you have me call them back?”
“Perhaps.” Soleh swallowed hard and continued hesitantly. She felt like she was tugging on the tail of a lion. “Or, perhaps you could show your face among the people once more. After you came back to me, there were five days of peace. Five days when wrongdoing all but halted. The people saw you, and they rejoiced! There was calm, there was brotherhood, there was harmony. But it seems now as if you have…”
She paused.
“It seems you’ve given up on your children. I sense the angst when I walk the streets. The people think you no longer care, and if their own god does not care for their lives, why should they?”
Karak stared at her with heart-wrenching intensity, his eyes filled with an emotion she had never before seen on his face: anger. The god-made-flesh stood, and his lips twisted into a frown. When he spoke next, his tone was so cold it chilled her to the bone.
“The responsibility for the current state of affairs lies solely with you, my…sweet…Soleh. Did I not give you life? Did I not give you laws to govern your own land? Did I not provide you with the knowledge of carpentry, farming, metallurgy, and combat? What more would you have me do? Act as nursemaid, sitting you all in a corner when you misbehave? I have seen much, child, and believe me when I tell you that the gifts I have bestowed on you are well beyond any that humanity, in all the worlds it populates, has ever been given so freely. Do you think my brother has allowed this much autonomy to his children, giving them the opportunity to live how they desire, building prosperity that’s equal to their efforts? I can assure you, he has not. All I have ever required from you is your respect and worship, honoring me by understanding my teachings and bringing order to this world.” He laughed then, a frigid sound like ice scraping against brittle steel. “Do you know why my Highest was with me this day giving his confession? He came to beg forgiveness for his failures, for helping to create a city filled with murder, greed, and corruption. He begged my forgiveness. And what do you do, sweet Soleh? Do you fall to your knees and beg absolution? No, you dare stand before me and demand further action on my part. You blame me, not yourself. Was the act of creating you not enough? Do you not value this immortal life you have been given?”
The tears came upon her all of a sudden, pouring over her cheeks. Soleh collapsed, her elbows striking the ground as she stooped before her beloved deity. All desire to live abandoned her in that moment.
“I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “I was not thinking.”
“Stand up, child.”
“I deserve no mercy…I deserve no honor…I do not deserve this life you have given me.…”
A hand fell on her shoulder, warm and inviting. Soleh lifted her head and Karak was her Divinity again, smiling tenderly as if his tirade had never happened.
“Stand up, Soleh.”
She did so mindlessly, and the god took a moment to straighten out her cloak and even tug out a snarl in her hair with his gigantic finger. “I apologize for my tone,” he said, “but sometimes one must break a child in order to open their eyes and make them see the folly of their ways. Do you understand?”
Sniveling, Soleh nodded.
Karak rubbed his palms against her shoulders. “Then calm yourself. You have much work to do. You must preach the message, scream it loudly over the rails of every shop and homestead if need be. Show the people the right way, even if that means making an example of some. In a scant ninety-three years our population has risen to nearly eighty thousand. As much as it disappoints me to see the state your city has fallen into, I knew that such growth would bring pains. In Omnmount, across the Ramere, in Thettletown, Brent, and Hailen, things are much better. There it is peaceful, calm…and empty. But a third of our people reside within the borders of this city, and I consider it a notable accomplishment that most are kind, lawful men and women.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” said Soleh.
“That does not release you from responsibility, my child. That does not absolve your failure. It is still a mess that you must fix. When you leave this place, sing my message far and loud. Make sure the people hear you; make sure they understand. And find relief in this: whether Haven repents or we must forcibly burn their temple to the ground, all will see what it means to deface the nobility of their creator. It will be a lesson none will forget.”