Theomancy Chapter 21
This is my third life. My first life was one of easy and simplicity. I was a woman born into a family of Greater Sowell's upper-class. I met a man, married, had some children, and pretty much lived what most would hope might be the best of lives. As far as living, it wasn't too bad. I had a lot of friends. My husband was caring and provided a lot for me. It wasn't until the children were all gone and we were settling into a life without our progeny that I found out how frequently he cheated on me. I could never get a full census out of him, but I'm thinking that he had, at least, seventeen paramours during our marriage. I remember that number, because that's how many times I cut him. That's also how many days I managed to keep him alive, chained and abused, in the basement of our mansion. The Greater Sowell society didn't much care for a murderess as part of their cliques, so I was shunned. Oh, and also killed. Capital punishment is normally reserved for the worst of criminals, and very rarely would a woman be executed. I can't say that I really thought about that when I was planning my vengeance. After all, I had to figure out how I was going to keep him alive once I started the bleeding. Despite me being a woman--and, when I was walking to the field where I was to die, I heard more than one woman say that she would have done the same, if not worse, had she been so humiliated as I had been by my husband's actions--I was sentenced to death by quartering. They tied a limb and my head to five separate horses, then sent all of them galloping away. I don't remember what that felt like. I was male when I was born again. This time I was part of the Nolasgruud vagrants, living with my caravan and making my way through the world. I learned young and quickly that those who wish to harm me won't hesitate; I applied that lesson to what I had to do whenever I had to. My father was the leader of our tribe, the Jalastor. As Jalastor, we learned that we ought to worship the gods, rather than control them. That--and many other reasons--meant that most peoples didn't trust us. We were never welcome in any of the townships we visited, and more than once we were blamed for some nobleman's poor behavior. The women of my tribe were particularly vulnerable: If a man abused any of them, the only law that could hold them guilty was the one that we Jalastor abided by. Since we moved so often, the local government refused to let us try those who had done crimes to us, while making it legal to abuse anyone of the Nolasgruud tribes. So you can imagine that, when I found out what had happened to my younger sister--a girl no more than fifteen at the time--I had a bit of a dilemma. I won't go into the details of his crime: Suffice to say, they were horrible enough that when I found the man who had violated Mayell, I had to decide whether or not to let him go. I had followed him into the woods where he was camping with his friends. They spent some time making crass jokes and swimming in the cool water. It was a hot day in the middle of summer, the kind where twilight seems to last longer than an afternoon. The sunlight sparkled off the river's curving form. Most of them lounged about nude or wearing little more than a loincloth. There were a total of seven of them, including two women who were clearly servants. They kept their eyes down and made it a point to stay in their tent until called for by one of the five men. As night descended, the girls turned in, saying that they needed their rest. The men stayed by the fire, roasting the fish they'd caught in their nets and drinking kumis. The man who hurt Mayell, Plyn as he was called, claimed that he was tired and was going to turn in early. Instead of heading toward his tent, he doubled around and approached the girls' tent instead. By this point, I was hiding in a nearby thicket, watching his every move. There was the possibility, I knew, that he could be heading this direction for benign purposes, but I didn't believe that to be true. I was correct in that. He held a short dagger--to this day I can't understand where he had been hiding it--and made as if to slit the back of the girls' tent. I decided that, if he would be willing to do this to his own servants, there was no reason to assume he would ever get justice for the rape of a Jalastor. Moving forward in the silent manner I had learned from my father, I grabbed him from behind, choking him. He struggled and made plenty of desperate grunts, but the girls didn't come out to see what strange creature made those noises in the darkness beyond their beds. I dragged Plyn, by now unconscious, deeper into the woods. There, to my surprise, was a mat already splayed out with stakes driven into the earth. From each stake came a rope--four in total. It didn't take much imagination to discover what Plyn had anticipated doing. Instead of putting the girl he'd aimed to abduct in that place, I put him there, with his mouth carefully gagged. When I began to carve into him, that's when I remembered my first life. The decision to continue, then, was easy enough. I knew which parts had hurt my husband the worst; I did the same for a second life. One thing that I did differently was that I didn't keep Plyn underground, as I had my husband. So I was only ten cuts deep when his cries drew attention I was attacked by Plyn's friends. They were drunk and confused, but I was too involved with my vengeance to defend myself well. They struck once, knocking me over, then stabbed me to death. As I bled out, I remember thinking that I should never forget the harsh lessons I'd learned as a Jalastor. I watched as Plyn died only moments before I departed for the AfterWorld myself. When I was born into this life, it was in the Dredstric Ward of Gallhin. You know the slums there, I'm certain. Well, surviving there was always an ordeal. I recalled my previous lives when I was only ten--it was the number, surprisingly enough, that triggered that. I had recently learned how to count and, with the help of some friends, discovered my age. When I understood what I had done in the past, it made me…well, uneasy is a mild way of phrasing it. More like nauseated and ashamed and embarrassed. I didn't want to be a murderer, even though I had died for that crime already. Twice. But not wanting to be a murderer didn't change the fact that I had to survive a world rapidly spinning toward the End of Times. You remember how it was before the Breaking of the World, don't you? Of course. You were…that's for your story, isn't it? In my case, despite learning how to be a teka--useful when you have a lot of emotional baggage to carry around, though overcoming my vestigial memories of being a Jalastor while training to become a teka was not one of the easiest things I had to do--and doing my best to avoid the darkness I had within, I ended up pushing hotflowers. I had a sister…have a sister…whose needs precluded a more honest--and less lucrative--kind of work. As a result, I fell in with Tenhaim. He liked the resourcefulness I showed when I almost got away with one of his shipments of hotflowers. Had he not been in an expansive mood, he probably would have murdered me outright. Instead, I had spent enough time planning the heist that he thought it worthwhile to keep me for my "unique talents", as he called them. I spent the final months before the End of Times learning how to be a fighter for Tenhaim. That I was a teka only helped me along more. But all things come to an end, you know? My end with Tenhaim happened only a few weeks ago: I saw my sister again. She had slipped out from my view as my work with Tenhaim escalated, leaving me to scrape together the money from his pay and the "perks" of working with him--which usually meant being free with my fingers whenever we took care of someone's debts. I got tired of roughing people up, so I requested to go onto guard duty. The day before I was switched over to the compound, Qina bumped into me on the streets. I had just finished ransacking a destitute hotflower-addict's home, carrying away some bedclothes that could fetch me some extra coin, and Qina's expression was one that still haunts me. She had struggled for a long time with a debilitating sickness in her gut--hence me needing to get as much money as possible. At one point, while I was away working a shipment for Tenhaim, Qina had disappeared from our small home. I hadn't had time to hunt her down. That was two months ago. "What are you doing here?" I asked her. "I could ask the same of you," she replied. "I thought you were sick." "I'm better," she said. "Thanks to Honu." "Who?" "Honu. She's an Underdweller with a lot of connections and was willing to help me out." I insisted that I meet Honu. On our way to Honu's above-ground dwelling, Qina asked me a question that I couldn't answer: "Why are you still doing this?" By that, of course, she meant working with Tenhaim, pushing hotflower addiction on the poor people of the city, acting as muscle for a slumlord whom I hated. I had only done so to help Qina, but with that need satisfied, I had plenty of reasons to abandon the slumlord. After I was able to thank her in person, Honu and I spoke more and more. It became clear that Honu knew something about Tenhaim, but needed help in learning more. It was an opportunity to do something that would rectify some of my past mistakes. If I could help take down Tenhaim, it might help me feel less guilty for the killings that I've done throughout my lives. Not only that, but being close to Tenhaim is worse than being out in the field, hurting in his name. There, it's abstract. Here, it's open: I've seen women pleading for their husbands' lives, only to be forced down to watch the butchery of their loved ones. He's cold, cruel, and heartless. I no longer want to be a part of that kind of world. It's too grim, too dark. I know that I have a monster inside of me--my previous lives are proof enough of that--but I don't want to go down the same paths that I did before. I've had my fill of that kind of existence. So I spied. I set about learning as much as I could while in the compound itself. I learned the rotation of the guards, the heights of the walls, the layout of the inner courtyard. And as I learned this, I began sending the information back to Honu. I guarded Kimhan, getting to know her at the same time. A week or so ago, Honu asked for a map of the compound, which I managed to smuggle out to her. Then you showed up. I guess you were the pawn in Honu's game, just like I was. She definitely used us both to get what she wanted…until Tenhaim caught up to her, I guess. Kimhan kidnapped--or rescued, however you want to say it--we were all dispatched into the streets to try to find you. I was…unaware of what Honu was planning. Your attack on the compound was a surprise to me. So when I was told what I was supposed to do, I immediately followed orders: I dispatched Olilli, Goddess of Aggression. Yes, I was the teka controlling the goddess that nearly killed you in that offal-lined workyard. I…I'm sorry about that. You may remember that Olilli was dismissed seconds before your Transt could impale her on his horns, yes? Well, I didn't want to lose the chance to Invoke her again, so I pulled her out when it was clear you were going to win. Again, I didn't know you had Kimhan with you, nor the danger that was around you. My goddess started fighting your god--a theopolemic that I wanted to win. When I saw you two in the alleyway immediately after, I realized my mistake. And my opportunity. If I could get you and Kimhan to safety, if I could extract you, then I could extract myself, too. Honu's desire to take down Tenhaim seemed like it was going to happen with you, because of you…and I wanted to be a part of that. Qina's question, "Why are you still doing this?" had rankled me since she'd asked it, as I said. With your arrival--when I understood what was actually going on--I knew that I couldn't simply turn you over. You were my chance at salvation. So I took it.
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