Hearing birds, she opened her eyes.
The amphitheatre was around her, rising out of the desert sands, exactly as she’d pictured it. But it was empty. Wind blew across the steps.
“Summon the gods,” Jarlath said. “Dance.”
Liyana spread her arms wide and imagined she was sending her voice across the sands. “Ebuci o nanda wadi. Ebuci o yenda. Vessa oenda nasa we.” She repeated it. And then she began to dance. Spinning, she heard bells—the silver bells were again in her hair. She twisted and twirled in silence.
Drums began. Steady as a heartbeat.
A syncopated rhythm joined it.
She danced faster, her arms swirling with the rhythm, her feet pounding to the heart drum. A melody soared above. Pia was singing, she realized. And Fennik and Raan were drumming. Jarlath spoke the words as Liyana danced. “Ebuci o nanda wadi. Ebuci o yenda. Vessa oenda nasa we!”
All of a sudden the drums fell silent, and the melody ceased. Liyana stopped dancing. Around her and Jarlath, the amphitheatre was filled with gods.
Some of the deities shone like soft moonlight. Others blazed. Above them the light shifted and waved like an aurora. Liyana saw that the sky had darkened to a deep blue.
One of the goddesses lifted her hand, and the birds fell silent. All eyes fixed on Liyana. She felt her throat go dry, as if it had never known moisture. The eyes of the deities burned her. Liyana tried to find the words, or perhaps a story. . . . Her mind felt blank.
Jarlath laid his hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps this is why I am here,” he said. He walked past her and stood in front of the gods and goddesses. His face was as calm as stone. He raised his voice. “Deities of the desert, children of the children of the turtle, I am not your enemy.”
He talked, and the words flowed out of him like water from a stream. He told them of families whose fields had died, whose children with hungry eyes were thin as sticks, whose parents had to choose who to save. He told of the desperation and the terrible hope that drove him with his army into the desert. And he told the story of his parents’ deaths. “We came to the desert to find life, not death. Yet now my people are killing and dying on the desert sands. Please, you must end this. Save us from the sky serpents and one another.”
One god rose. His eyes gleamed like stars against his night black skin. “Your words are eloquent, and we are not deaf to your plea. But we in the Dreaming cannot affect the world of the living no matter how much we may wish it. Indeed, that is the purpose of vessels. Only from within a vessel can our magic touch the world.”
A goddess whose hair wound in coils to her feet spoke next. “Already there are several deities with vessels in the desert, and they are ineffective to halt the slaughter. I do not know what you expect us to do without vessels.”
Others nodded in agreement.
Liyana touched Jarlath on the shoulder as he began to speak. “And this is why I am here,” she said. She raised her voice. “Once, there was a desert girl who saved her goddess. . . .” She told them how Bayla had entered her but Liyana hadn’t left. She told them how they had worked magic together—and how the power was amplified when conducted through a human mind. “And that was with only one deity inside. Add more . . .” She told them about Mulaf.
Gasps and whispers spread through the deities. Many did not believe her. Others suspected exaggeration. Only a few thought it could be truth. She scanned the amphitheatre, trying to spot the gods who had been inside Mulaf. She doubted they’d remained in his body once the lake water had forced him to leave.
“If you don’t believe her, ask Mulaf,” Jarlath said.
“Bring him before us,” one of the gods commanded.
Pia vanished for an instant. When she reappeared, Mulaf was with her. He blinked at the assembly of deities. “You!” He pointed. “Filthy parasites! Plague upon our world!” He spat on the ground before them.
“You will tell us of your experience—” one god began.
“I will tell you nothing!”
Pia vanished and reappeared again, this time with a woman.
The woman was as lovely as a bird, with a delicate face and soft hair that flowed over her shoulders. She stepped in front of Mulaf, and all his rage drained away to be replaced by naked anguish. Her hand touched Mulaf’s cheek, and he let out an inarticulate cry, like a small animal in pain.
“I would have avenged you, Serra,” Mulaf said.
Gently Serra said, “I never needed to be avenged. I went willingly into death.”
He looked as if she had stabbed him. “But . . . you had no choice.”
Her smile was sad. “There is always choice. I wanted to help our people. I believed, as did we all, that the death of the vessel was the only way.” She cupped her hands around his face and leaned her forehead against his. “My love, you have caused much pain in my name. I do not know if I can forgive you for what you have done or for what you almost did.” Her voice was as hard as her face was sweet.
Liyana put her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “He can begin to make amends right now. He must tell the gods how he nearly destroyed the lake.”
“Tell them, my love,” Serra said, still cradling his face in her hands.
He yanked away as if her touch hurt him. “Do not ask this of me! Please, Serra. . . . These parasites caused your death. Needlessly!”
Liyana spoke again. “Once the truth is known, no vessel will ever need to choose to die. Gods will never again freely walk the world in a stolen body. Isn’t that a kind of revenge?”
She saw the emotions play across his face.
She pushed harder. “Besides, doesn’t your story deserve to be told?”
“Indeed, it does.” Mulaf faced the assembly of deities. He pointed to six of them. “You, you, you, you, you, and you . . . I captured you inside of me.” He went on to describe how he had trapped them in false vessels, summoned them into his body, controlled them, and then used them. “Their power was combined and then magnified through me. Speak the truth to your fellow parasites!”
One by one, the six humiliated deities, including Somayo of the Falcon Clan, whose statue Liyana had held and not broken, confirmed his story with hatred in their eyes for how they had been used. After they sank into their seats again, Mulaf clasped Serra’s hands to his chest. “Now can you forgive me?”
She removed her hands. “With time. Perhaps.”
“It is fortunate, then, that we have eternity.”
Pia tapped Mulaf’s shoulder and he disappeared. Serra vanished as well.
“So here’s the trick,” Liyana said to the deities. She hoped Korbyn would approve of what she was about to do. She thought he would. “I return to my body. All of you come with me. And through me, we end this.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Liyana took Jarlath’s hand. “You are coming with me.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “My body is dead. I cannot.”
“You do not say no to the girl with the deities.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and then yanked him off-balance. Together, they fell into the pool of water.
Light swirled around her. Colors sparkled, shifting as they shimmered. She imagined the feel of her skin, the shape of her body, the throb of blood pulsing through her veins, and the rush of air into her lungs. It was the reverse of how it felt when she used to picture the lake. Carefully she poured her soul into her body.
Liyana? Bayla’s mental voice was stunned.
I’m not alone, Liyana said. Ready yourself.
The other deities filled her. Liyana was engulfed in wind, buffeted by a storm within. She clung to the familiar contours of her body, grounding herself in her muscles and bones. She drew on everything she had practiced in all the lessons with Korbyn, and she seized control of herself before the other minds could establish themselves.