god, but hated the prospect that if he did, Teirn would die. The alternative pleased him just as little.
“I don’t want to do it,” he said. “I’ll tell the Master that I don’t want to be god. I’ll let you be god. We don’t even have to have the proving.”
Teirn laughed bitterly. “You don’t think I’ve thought of that? But Calla forbids it. She says that if the Master discovered what she’d told me, he would execute her. He doesn’t want us knowing what the eventual ‘prize’ of the proving is.”
It made sense. Wrend couldn’t tell the Master that he’d learned the purpose of this test. It would anger the Master, and he might slay those responsible for revealing the information: Calla and Teirn.
Teirn turned to Wrend, face intense. “There’s nothing we can do. We’re stuck. And I tell you now: I intend to be god.”
The declaration and Teirn’s determined tone made gooseflesh rise on Wrend’s arms. He shivered. His brother and best friend was resolved regarding his death.
“We have to convince him,” Wrend said. “Together we can convince him that there’s no need for this test.”
“We can’t say a word to him. It’s useless. Wrend, I’ve had years to think about this and get used to the idea and to try and find a way around it. But I haven’t come up with anything. We’re stuck. We have to do this.”
“You’ve known for years and haven’t told me?”
“Calla forbade it.”
“But you’re doing it, now?”
In the little light that came through the window, Wrend thought he saw Teirn’s eyes moisten. His face contorted in sorrow.
“I think it’s fair that you understand what’s going on. Calla would kill me if she knew I’d told you. She’s determined that I will win.” His voice grew hard. “And so am I.”
Wrend couldn’t find words. Too many things passed through his head and heart.
Teirn shook his head and turned away, again. His voice grew brutal.
“Though I dread the day I do, Wrend, I will win. I will become god. It’s the right thing for me to be god. This is the right way for the Master to choose an heir.”
The words stung—Teirn had never spoken to Wrend like that. Yet, Teirn’s confidence made Wrend pause, question if he could possibly be right. Rather than cast the possibility away, Wrend considered it. Naresh, the palsied priest with crazy hair, had taught him to do that. Wrend remembered the lesson well.
He was twelve. One of his sisters and brothers argued over how to sow the fields up the canyon. The brother wanted to plow them one way, while the sister wanted them to do it differently. Most of the demigods stood behind the sister, and in the end, by sheer force of numbers, rejected the brother’s opinion without really considering it.
Afterward, Naresh casually strolled by Wrend, and with a sly glance at the defeated brother said, “I wonder how he feels about being cast aside like that.”
A quick comment. A simple phrase. And Naresh moved on, but it made Wrend think about the brother’s point of view. Before then, no one had ever suggested considering others’ perspectives. Not in any of his lessons. It was always just obedience to the Master. Do what he would think best, without any hope of personal glory or elevation. Empathy—if that was the right word—was a novel concept, but it made sense from many standpoints. Since then, Wrend had sought to consider everyone’s perspective. As a result, he’d gained many friends in the Seraglio. Ultimately that didn’t matter much, but he felt good about it.
And so now, hearing Teirn’s declaration, Wrend couldn’t help but wonder if it were true that this was the best way for the Master. And for the people of the nation. Maybe it wasn’t.
Teirn turned away from Wrend, toward the door. “I have to go change. I’ll meet you back outside in a few minutes.”
He gave Wrend a glance as he opened the door, and left without saying another word or giving Wrend a chance to
“I don’t want to do it,” he said. “I’ll tell the Master that I don’t want to be god. I’ll let you be god. We don’t even have to have the proving.”
Teirn laughed bitterly. “You don’t think I’ve thought of that? But Calla forbids it. She says that if the Master discovered what she’d told me, he would execute her. He doesn’t want us knowing what the eventual ‘prize’ of the proving is.”
It made sense. Wrend couldn’t tell the Master that he’d learned the purpose of this test. It would anger the Master, and he might slay those responsible for revealing the information: Calla and Teirn.
Teirn turned to Wrend, face intense. “There’s nothing we can do. We’re stuck. And I tell you now: I intend to be god.”
The declaration and Teirn’s determined tone made gooseflesh rise on Wrend’s arms. He shivered. His brother and best friend was resolved regarding his death.
“We have to convince him,” Wrend said. “Together we can convince him that there’s no need for this test.”
“We can’t say a word to him. It’s useless. Wrend, I’ve had years to think about this and get used to the idea and to try and find a way around it. But I haven’t come up with anything. We’re stuck. We have to do this.”
“You’ve known for years and haven’t told me?”
“Calla forbade it.”
“But you’re doing it, now?”
In the little light that came through the window, Wrend thought he saw Teirn’s eyes moisten. His face contorted in sorrow.
“I think it’s fair that you understand what’s going on. Calla would kill me if she knew I’d told you. She’s determined that I will win.” His voice grew hard. “And so am I.”
Wrend couldn’t find words. Too many things passed through his head and heart.
Teirn shook his head and turned away, again. His voice grew brutal.
“Though I dread the day I do, Wrend, I will win. I will become god. It’s the right thing for me to be god. This is the right way for the Master to choose an heir.”
The words stung—Teirn had never spoken to Wrend like that. Yet, Teirn’s confidence made Wrend pause, question if he could possibly be right. Rather than cast the possibility away, Wrend considered it. Naresh, the palsied priest with crazy hair, had taught him to do that. Wrend remembered the lesson well.
He was twelve. One of his sisters and brothers argued over how to sow the fields up the canyon. The brother wanted to plow them one way, while the sister wanted them to do it differently. Most of the demigods stood behind the sister, and in the end, by sheer force of numbers, rejected the brother’s opinion without really considering it.
Afterward, Naresh casually strolled by Wrend, and with a sly glance at the defeated brother said, “I wonder how he feels about being cast aside like that.”
A quick comment. A simple phrase. And Naresh moved on, but it made Wrend think about the brother’s point of view. Before then, no one had ever suggested considering others’ perspectives. Not in any of his lessons. It was always just obedience to the Master. Do what he would think best, without any hope of personal glory or elevation. Empathy—if that was the right word—was a novel concept, but it made sense from many standpoints. Since then, Wrend had sought to consider everyone’s perspective. As a result, he’d gained many friends in the Seraglio. Ultimately that didn’t matter much, but he felt good about it.
And so now, hearing Teirn’s declaration, Wrend couldn’t help but wonder if it were true that this was the best way for the Master. And for the people of the nation. Maybe it wasn’t.
Teirn turned away from Wrend, toward the door. “I have to go change. I’ll meet you back outside in a few minutes.”
He gave Wrend a glance as he opened the door, and left without saying another word or giving Wrend a chance to
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