prayer. Tarja studied her curiously for a moment, wondering which of the Primal Gods she was praying to, then deciding against disturbing her, he turned to leave. Without giving any indication that she was aware of his presence, she suddenly spoke to him.
“You’re up early this morning, Captain.”
“So are you,” he replied, as she stood up and dusted off her mud-stained skirt.
“I always get up this early. It’s said that the gods listen better in the mornings.”
“And do they?”
“I don’t really know. But it doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Which god were you praying to?”
“Patanan, the God of Good Fortune,” she said. “I was praying that he would be with you today.”
“Do you have a God of Damned Fools?” Tarja asked, a little bitterly. “He’s more likely to be with me than Good Fortune.”
Mandah smiled. “No, but I’m sure if you believe in one long enough he will come into being.”
Tarja frowned, her statement made no sense. “If I believe in him?”
Mandah fell into step beside him as they headed back toward the house.
“There are two sorts of gods, Captain,” she explained. “The Primal Gods, who exist because life exists. Love, Hate, War, Fertility, the Oceans, the Mountains – every one of them has a god. The Incidental Gods come into being when enough people believe in them.” She smiled at Tarja’s blank expression. “Let me explain it another way. You’ve heard of Kalianah, the Goddess of Love?”
Tarja nodded.
“Well, she is a Primal God,” Mandah continued. “Now Xaphista, whom I’m sure you’ve heard of, is an Incidental God. That’s what they call a demon who gathers enough power to become a god. Once they achieve the status of a god, the bulk of their power comes from their believers, so the more they have, the stronger they are. If their believers lose faith, they whither and die. Primal Gods will exist as long as life does.”
She laughed at his uncomprehending expression.
“You’ve heard of the Harshini, I suppose?”
“Of course, I have.”
“Well, the Harshini are sort of a bridge between humans and the gods. The Harshini and the demons are bonded.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “And you actually believe this?”
“That’s the nature of faith, Tarja,” she replied.
“So what do these demons do, besides running around all day trying to become... what did you call them... Incidental Gods?”
“I’ve no idea. You would have to ask the Harshini.”
“I see,” Tarja said. “So how did Xaphista get to be a god, if he was just a demon?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Demons acquire learning by shape shifting and merging with other demons. I think that every time they merge, each demon acquires some of the knowledge of every other demon in the link. That’s how the Harshini could fly on dragons. Hundreds of demons would merge to create the dragon, and each one learned from the others while they were in that form. I suppose Xaphista eventually acquired enough knowledge and power to gather human worshipers. He left Sanctuary, taking his Harshini clan with him. It’s rumored the Karien priests are descended from those Harshini who broke away from Sanctuary.”
“And he moved north to Karien,” Tarja added. “So he needs all those Karien worshipers to maintain power?”
“That’s the nature of an Incidental God,” Mandah agreed, looking rather pleased with him. “Without people to believe in them, they are just harmless demons.”
Tarja looked down at Mandah. “Then wouldn’t you be better off praying to an Incidental God? He’d have more of a vested interest in answering your prayers than a god who doesn’t care whether you believe in him or not.”
Mandah shook her head. “You have the most infuriating way of twisting everything I say, Captain. Perhaps the gods have sent you here to test my patience.”
“They’ve definitely sent me here to test mine,” Tarja added, a smile taking the sting from his words.
She stopped walking and looked up at him. “You’re starting to feel sorry you joined us, aren’t you?” she asked intuitively.
He shrugged. “This rebellion can’t hope to win, Mandah. All we are is a burr in the Sisterhood’s saddle blanket. Sooner or later they’ll turn on us in full force, and this pitiful attempt at resistance will be annihilated.”
“You should have more faith, Captain. You have brought hope to our people. You have saved hundreds of lives, heathen and atheist.”
“Much good that will be if those lives I’m supposed to have saved are killed later in retaliation,” Tarja pointed out. “Can’t you see how useless this is? You have a handful of heathens and even fewer atheists on your side. The vast majority of Medalonians don’t want war. They want peace. They want to go about their lives and not be bothered by anything more serious than whether or not their crops will thrive.”
“That might have been the case a year ago, Captain,” Mandah replied. “But the Purge has changed that. I agree that most Medalonians could not have cared less about what the Sisterhood was doing, but things have changed. Innocent people are being hurt. People who never broke a law in their lives are being thrown off their land. Every time that happens they look at us and wonder if perhaps we’re not the threat the Sisterhood claims we are. And now, even the Sisterhood has been forced to recognize us.”
“You still can’t win. This is a futile fight, Mandah, doomed to failure.”
“Then why don’t you leave us?”
“I keep asking myself the same question.”
“I’ll tell you the answer, Captain. It’s because you know, deep down, that what you are doing is right,” she said with total confidence. “It might be foolish and futile, but it’s right. Today will prove that.”
They resumed walking, and Tarja wondered if it was that simple. He had a bad feeling his motives were just as ignoble as R’shiel’s. By fighting Joyhinia, he was making a stand. He was more than a deserter and an oath breaker; he was a champion of injustice. It would be a bitter irony if his efforts to ease his own conscience ended up costing even more lives.
By the time they reached the small stone wall that enclosed the packed-earth yard, the sky had lost its bloody tinge, and gray light bathed the old farmhouse. Tarja insisted they leave the outside as untouched as possible. Training was held amid the vines, where it was out of sight of the casual observer. The farmhouse itself looked as if nobody had been inside it for years. As much as was practicable, all business was conducted underground, in the vastly extended cellars. That was another advantage of using the old vineyard as headquarters. The cellars here were extensive, despite the relative meanness of the house.
As they drew nearer, a figure appeared in the doorway. It was the sailor from the Fardohnyan boat who had joined them, seemingly on the spur of the moment, nearly a year ago. He gave no reason for his decision. He simply offered his help. Mandah, being Mandah, accepted it gratefully. She had a bad habit of thinking everything was a sign from the gods, and Brak’s offer of help was no exception. Tarja didn’t trust him, although he could think of no reason why. He had never done anything to make Tarja doubt his loyalty. The man was vague about his past, but that was common among the rebels. Brak caught sight of Tarja and Mandah and crossed the yard toward them.
“I thought perhaps you’d left without me,” he said to Tarja as he approached. Brak was even taller than Tarja but of a much more slender build. He moved with an economy of gesture that made Tarja wonder if he had trained as a fighter. He had thick brown hair and weary, faded eyes and the manner of one who had seen just about everything there was to be seen in the world and found it wanting. “Good morning, Mandah.”
“Good morning, Brak,” she replied. “I’ve just made an offering to Patanan to aid you on your journey.”
“That was very thoughtful of you.” Tarja saw the expression that flickered over the older man’s face and wondered about him again. He professed to believe in the Primal Gods, but unlike the other heathens, Brak seemed almost skeptical about the value of the prayers and sacrifices of his brethren. “I hope it won’t be wasted.”
“You’re as bad as Tarja,” she scolded. “Have a little faith.”
“Faith I have in abundance, Mandah,” he said. “It’s hope I run short of, on occasion.” He turned his attention to Tarja and added, “Like hoping we’re not walking into a trap this morning.”
