Light from a source that was not the sun glinted subtly from the jewel-like scales that descended from Nana-kwah’s head and covered most of her sinuous body. Her elongated arms and legs moved gently in the water. The goddess did not need such movement to keep her afloat, but she enjoyed the sensation of the water that flowed smoothly over her scaled skin.
Considering what was happening on the other side of the divide, it would have been understandable if even a goddess like Nama-kwah followed her first impulse and swam far away, never to return. Like her Children, however, Nama-kwah could not stay away for very long. Like them, she kept returning, motivated by a morbid fascination with what she saw.
Corpses drifted through the murky water of Khambawe’s harbor like leaves in a windstorm. Many had fallen to the ocean floor, where they lay in scatters and clumps – maimed, wide-eyed witnesses to the appalling carnage that had accompanied the defeat of the Uloans’ invasion. The water was still tinged crimson with the blood that had been spilled copiously in the final slaughter. And the wreckage of dozens of sunken, shattered ships also littered the bottom of the harbor, turning it into a carpet of broken boards and masts.
Matile, Uloan ... the identity of the wrecks and the corpses did not matter to the ocean currents that rocked them, lending a macabre semblance of life to the cadavers and animation to the smashed hulks of the ships. And it also didn’t matter to the sharks and the lesser scavengers that were devouring the dead.
Deep indentations on the sea-bottom delineated the path the Ishimbi statues had taken during their destruction of the Uloan fleet. Even though she was a goddess, Nama-kwah had still been impressed by the sheer scope of the sorcery that had been summoned to cause the gigantic statues to walk into the harbor. She remembered a time when she herself would have helped to provide such power to the Amiyas. But that time was no more, and long gone.
On the other hand, the massive killing had impressed her much less. It had sickened her, but she had remained to witness it just the same, even though she was under no obligation to do so.
She could have stopped it. She and all the other deities the Matile had worshipped and served for so long, and for so little in return – together, they could have stopped the horror. But they had chosen not to do so. And now, as she watched the sea claim the spoils the humans’ slaughter had given it, and her Children swam back and forth in a mindless dance of attraction and repulsion, Nama-kwah reflected on why the Matile had finally been abandoned in their time of need.
Abandoned by all – including herself.
But she had tried not to desert them completely. Yes, she had tried to forestall the tragedy that was to come. And her thoughts returned to the repeated attempts she had made to change the minds of her fellow Jagasti, even as she observed the result of her failure ...
2
Nama-kwah had prepared carefully for her journey to the Realm of Ufashwe, the God of the Wind, who was Nama-kwah’s closest friend among the Jagasti. Although the elements the two deities controlled were complementary in nature, the air in Ufashwe’s Realm could prove dangerous to her if she entered it without taking the proper precautions.
Complementary ...
Nama-kwah’s smooth brow had creased in a frown as she remembered how hollow a conception that had been during the time of the Storm Wars, when the ashuma that had been granted to the humans had escaped the control of even the Jagasti, and continued to rage unchecked to this day in the ocean off the coast of the Abengoni continent and the beaches of the Uloan Islands. In that part of the Beyond World, the Jagasti no longer held even a semblance of sway. The Beyond World’s own elementals of sea and sky were at war, a war that could not come to an end because of the mindless nature of its protagonists.
And the rest of the Beyond World had, for the most part, been abandoned by the Jagasti – all except Legaba, the seeker of power, who had striven to ensnare the Realms of Jagasti and humans alike in his far-reaching webs, only to bring himself, the Realms, and the world of humanity close to ruin.
Like Legaba, Nama-kwah also paid more attention to the Beyond World than did most of the other Jagasti. But her reasons involved sentiment rather than a hunger for adulation. Her latest – and now last – Vessel, Tiyana, had intrigued her. The young woman reminded her of other Amiyas who had served her in times long past – Amiyas whose deeds had become legendary among the mortals. She had touched Tiyana more than she should have. And Tiyana had, in turn, touched Nama-kwah, for even among the short-lived people of the Beyond World, there were those whose qualities had earned the admiration of the Jagasti.
Nama-kwah remembered Etiya and her songs. And the shaman, Jaussa, and his curiosity. And Jass Issuri, the first Emperor, and his courage.
During the Dance on the Waves that had accompanied the First Calling ritual, Nama-kwah had attempted to warn Tiyana of the chain of events that was about to occur ... events the goddess was capable of foreseeing, but not forestalling. Giving that warning was all she could do.
Even so, Nama-kwah could not ignore the entreaties Tiyana had sent to her in the House of Amiyas at the time when all the Vessels had
