“So I shall ask again,” the woman said. She held up the wisterwife charm. “Where are you hiding the one that bore my might?” Her words caressed Talen like silk. If he had known the truth, he would have told her.
But perhaps…
The charm, the dreams, the words River and the Creek Widow had spoken to him-they all roiled in his mind. His mother had discovered, working in the fiber of his body, strange and intricate patterns of power. “Twisted,” River had said. “Pruned and grafted for a great purpose,” the Creek Widow had said.
They had all suspected it was for some greater good. But none of them could have imagined this.
It’s me, he thought. I am the one she seeks. With a clarity that rang like a bell, Talen felt the truth of it. It sounded in his very bones.
But what was he? Was he even human? He felt the panic of standing next to a high precipice and knowing he was going to tumble over the edge. He felt the fear of being dragged by a treacherous current far out to the deep and rough waters of a cold sea.
The woman motioned at Da’s body. “He’s cooling even as we speak, but it’s not too late. I can reverse the quickening. Tell me where the master is and you shall save your friend.”
He could save Da. Talen’s world was gone, replaced by this nightmare. But he could save Da.
His mind told him this was true. But in his heart was a warning.
He looked over at River. Her face was wracked with grief and fear. She shook her head, indicating he should say nothing. He noticed she’d freed herself of the collar, which meant she was probably working her lore, multiplying her powers. Even so, what could she do that Da as a victor could not? Her attack would be as futile as Ke’s had been.
“Don’t listen,” said Uncle Argoth. “She means to put us up like so much smoked meat.”
“That is true,” the woman said. “But this is the order of things. You love and cherish your cattle, your sheep, your beasts. But in the end you feed off of them. Why should it be any different with us? Besides, you will fare better under my management than you ever could on your own. Your people will grow old in peace. You yourself will live to the age of a tree, doing, if you decide, much good. You will protect those most dear to you. You will put down injustice and grind your enemies beneath your feet. You will heal sickness in children, cattle, and herb. Peace and fatness will reign in these valleys and hills, these shores and mountains, until the end of your days. This is what I give you-the power to bless.”
The joy of her vision overwhelmed Talen. Indeed, he thought, why should they fight her? Is this not what every man and woman desired? The good he could do was unimaginable. And how could he be so ungrateful when she was offering him the means to save Da?
Again, revulsion roiled in him. The vision faltered. Was she lying?
He looked at Da lying in the dust. He could save Da. He could do good. And if they didn’t pick up the reins she offered, surely someone else would. Someone like Fabbis who would rule with cruelty.
Her words filled him with hope, and he made his decision.
“I am the one,” he said. “It is me you seek.”
“No, Talen!” Uncle Argoth shouted. “She twists life. She will steal your will.”
“On the contrary,” the woman said.
Her countenance shined upon Talen and it made him glad.
“An overseer must take the position freely or not at all,” said the woman. “It must be so. Thralls do not endure. They are creatures destined for madness and wrath. And when a creature’s wrath is full, there is nothing left to do but cut it down for the devouring. Thralls are used for those who fight, but not for those who rule. And it’s best that humans rule other humans. It’s a matter of trust.”
“She lies,” said Uncle Argoth. “You can fight her.”
“Does not a dog glory in the praise of its master? Has it not been bred to do so? The world of men was domesticated ages ago. Your very nature makes you dependent on us. The only difference between you and your dogs is the genius with which you were bred.” She turned to Talen. “You were woven to work with me without impediment. Your only taskmaster will be my approbation.”
The woman came to him in her beauty and shining light.
“Save him,” Talen said and pointed at Da.
“All in good time,” said the woman. “All in good time. First, we shall see if you are what you claim to be.”
Yes, he thought. That was right. But underneath it all he knew it was not. Da was dying. Every second would count.
“You have been bred to wield power impossible to others. We will raise an army from the very earth,” said the woman. “And you will command it.”
She approached him, reaching out with her smoky hands. Her shining escort enveloped him.
He should have felt fear, but all he felt was the ease of the woman and her smiling eyes. The music in the crown built. He could feel it vibrating in his feet and across his shoulders. But why was he even holding it? He let it drop to the floor. An odd thought came to him: Atra was nothing compared to this woman, yet this woman looked like Atra.
Something probed him. Talen held his doors closed, but he could feel her gnawing all along his essence with something as small and sharp as the teeth of rats.
The probing became stronger.
Reflexively, he shut himself tight as River had taught him.
The woman pulled away and appraised him. He felt her pleasure and it almost sent him to his knees. “You are indeed mine. Mine from the moment you were conceived. The weave has been changed. But it’s nothing that, with time, cannot be undone.”
She spoke in Atra’s voice. Looked at him with Atra’s eyes. Except they weren’t Atra’s. They were at once more alien and more captivating than Atra’s could ever be.
Another wave of pleasure washed over him. He looked at Da’s body. It was not right to have such wondrous feelings. It was wicked. It was an abomination. And yet he could not deny the power of them.
“In time you will become as great as the Goat King himself.”
Suddenly a music inside him swelled. It sang in his blood and bones. He thought it was the crown, but then he remembered he’d dropped that. For a brief moment the fog in his mind cleared away. The woman’s voice fell flat.
Talen looked at her. Gone were the luminous eyes, the elegant neck and brow. Gone the alluring lips. In their place were black pits for eyes and a sucker mouth full of sharp teeth.
He recoiled.
An illusion-she was not one of the old gods. Not a benefactor. It was as if a huge blast of cold wind had just awakened him. His mind had been foggy, but now was crystal sharp.
And yet the desire to serve her seeped back through him.
“Yes,” said the woman. “He too was a master of the harvest that served my mother ages ago. For a time, the populace under his care yielded marvelous results. You will be his heir.”
The Goat King’s heir…
The title felt marvelous, and yet, underneath it ran a filth with a sickening taint.
The glorious woman was back. His heart longed to serve her. But in his blood and bones he knew the truth-that longing was her doing.
He had been twisted-to crave her.
That knowledge momentarily lessened her power, and he wondered: Was this what his mother had seen in him and given her life to fix? Surely even the pox wouldn’t take a whole life to heal. No, more likely she’d recognized the enemy’s tool and given her life to engineer one small flaw so that his adoration wouldn’t be totally complete.
But if that were the case, it wasn’t much of a flaw because the woman’s joy rushed back to suffuse him.
“River!” roared Uncle Argoth. “Now!”
River rushed toward him. She moved with frightening speed. In an eyeblink she sped from across the chamber and leapt into a flying kick.