The Last of the Wilds

Mirar paused. Are you admitting I am the owner of this body?

There was no answer. The two Siyee were watching him intently. He could sense their curiosity. What am I doing? he thought. If these tales spread among the Siyee, the gods will take note of them and seek the source.

Stories were powerful. They could teach caution. The thought of Siyee becoming priests and priestesses and of the gods controlling and changing them spurred him on. They should not accept such a fate without knowing some of the truth.

“I will tell you tales of dead gods as well as those of the Circle,” he said. “Have you ever heard of the whores of Ayetha?”

The young men’s eyes brightened with interest. “No.”

“Ayetha was a city in what is now Genria. The most popular god or goddess of that city was... no, I will not speak her name. The people built a temple for her. She held power over them through an exchange of favors. Any family that needed her help must surrender a child to the temple. That child - male or female - was taught the arts of prostitution and made to serve those who came and donated money to the Temple. They did not even need to be full grown to begin service. If they ever tried to leave their temple, they were hunted down and killed. The babes born of these women... they were sacrificed to this goddess.”

The interest in the young men’s eyes had changed to horror.

“This was before the War of the Gods?” Reet asked.

“Yes.” Mirar paused. “Do you wish to hear more?”

The pair exchanged glances, then Tyve nodded. Mirar considered their grim, determined expressions, then continued.

“She was not the only god to abuse her followers. One seduced young girls from all over Ithania. Some parents feared him and kept their daughters hidden, but in vain as the gods can see the minds of all people, everywhere. Others valued the regard of a god too much and foolishly dreamed their own child might be chosen.

“This god favored innocence and craved complete devotion. When he found a girl who fulfilled his requirements, he pleasured them with magic in a way that left them unmoved by ordinary physical sensation. They lost interest in eating and neglected themselves.

“Innocence dies easily and the girls inevitably questioned what had been done to them. When they did, he abandoned them. They did not live long after. Some killed themselves, some starved, some became addicted to pleasure drugs. I tended some of these girls, and was never able to save one.”

“You?” Tyve asked. “Surely this was before the War of the Gods, too.”

Mirar shook his head. “I’m sorry. I was speaking as the one whose memory I have called upon.”

Reet was frowning. “It is strange.”

“What is?”

“The gods... they are not physical beings. Why would one want...” He flushed. “... girls.”

“There are many tales of the gods falling in love or lusting after mortals. They may be beings of magic, but they crave physical closeness. There was a famous tale of a goddess - old even a thousand years ago - who fell in love with a mortal, and struck down any woman he happened to see and feel the briefest admiration for. Eventually he went mad and killed himself.”

“So if they feel love, do they feel hate?”

Mirar nodded. “Oh, yes. You would never have heard of the Velians. That is because one of the gods hated them so much he had his followers slaughter them, right to the last half-breed child. It took centuries, but he destroyed that race completely.”

Tyve shuddered. “If the gods can destroy a whole people, it would not be wise to become their enemy.”

“You do not have to be their enemy to suffer from their meddling. The Dunwayans were a peaceful race of farmers and fishermen until a war god decided to turn them into warriors. A long century of starvation followed because so many of them had become fighters that too few were growing crops or raising stock. Many thousands died.”

“Not all gods are bad, though,” Reet pointed out.

“No,” Mirar agreed. “There were some good ones. Like Iria, the goddess of the sky. She could be called upon to predict the seasons, and would appear to warn of unfavorable weather or impending disasters. There was a sea god, Svarlen, who helped sailors navigate or warned them of storms. And Kem, the beggar god, whose followers cared for those without homes or anyone to care for them. It was a terrible thing, losing them.”

“They died in the war.” Tyve frowned. “Who killed them?”

Mirar held the young man’s eyes for a short while before answering.

“Who knows? The victors, perhaps.”

Slowly Tyve’s face changed as he comprehended what that meant.

“The five,” he gasped. “Surely not! These good gods must have been killed earlier in the war by someone else. The five might have killed their killers.”

“That is possible,” Mirar agreed. “It is also possible that one or more of the five killed them.”

“They wouldn’t have,” Tyve insisted. “They are good. If they were evil, the world would be a terrible place. It is peaceful now... it is in Northern Ithania, anyway.”

Mirar smiled. “Then we are all safe,” he said. “But remember this: two of the first gods I mentioned - the ones whose abuses I listed - are still with us. Perhaps they have changed their ways, but knowing what I know I will never trust them to have mortals’ best interests at heart.”

The pair looked distressed. Mirar felt a pang of guilt. Is it fair of me to shatter their illusions about the gods? What choice do they have?

He picked up the skin and handed it to Tyve. “Drink, and forget what I’ve told you. It is all in the distant past. As you said, we are in better times now. That is all that matters.”

19

Once the servants had left her rooms, Auraya began to pace. In a few hours she would be in the air, heading to Si. There were only a few arrangements to make before she was free to go.

Mischief romped around the room, infected by her excitement. She hoped this burst of energy would tire him out and keep him quiet later. As a presence touched the edge of her senses, she glanced at the veez. He didn’t react. As far as she could tell, he was completely unaware of Chaia’s visits.

:Are you ready? Chaia asked.

:Yes. I’ve been up since dawn, driving my servants to distraction.

:That’s unlikely. You’re taking little with you, so there was barely any packing for them to do. They did not even dress your hair.

:No point, she replied, touching the clasp that bound her hair into a tail. It will only come out in the wind.

:You could protect it from the wind with magic.

:I like the feel of the wind.

:I like how you look with your hair dressed.

She felt a flush of pleasure at the compliment.

:It is a mere physical detail. You cannot see it, she pointed out.

:I see it through the eyes of others.

:Ah, she replied. Do you like it because they do, or—

A furry shape leapt onto the table. She turned in time to see the veez seize a circular object in its teeth.

“Mischief!” she gasped, leaping toward him. “Put that down!”

The veez’s ears flattened against his head. He evaded her easily, jumped off the table and darted behind a