"Isla was," Jigano said quietly, naming a friend who was gone and yet not, no longer the soul he had known and begun to love. "And then Bastien, much to my surprise. And now you, one of the last people who I thought would trade the sun away. I might not be able to predict who will choose such a path... but in the near-year that I've been here, I have known three who have chosen Ascension, and only one who has become Attuned." It was one thing to hear about it happening in the past, and another to see it with his own eyes, after all. More Outlanders arrived already Attuned than Ascended, it was true, though they had no choice in the matter.
"Who told you to avoid them?" he asked gently. "No one warned me away from Sam, or from Isla after she Ascended. No one made any complaints about them being in my guild. Rory and Amalia have had friends among the Ascended as well, so it's not just a matter of naturals versus outlanders. I sat in the Rathskeller and walked the town regularly, and I didn't see trouble begin until after what happened at Spire." Then, yes, there had been anger and resentment at the trampling of the non-Ascended's dignity and the magic cast against them without their consent.
The venom in her voice surprised him, and it worried him all the more at how she had changed in more than just body. Though she had Ascended only recently it was as though she took the Spire and events around it personally. "You nearly died as well, I seem to recall, from Lucas's fangs," he pointed out quietly. "But those who went up encountered no poison. Only those who went down. And I never did get a full accounting of what they did down there, but that poison wasn't always there. That might be something to ask Lucas the next time you see him." He tilted his head at her wearily, curious at her word choice. "And cage it might have become, but even you admit that it was her stronghold first and foremost."
He arched a brow at the flurry of questions - more than half accusation, and he snorted a wry, humorless laugh. "I would do the same for Safrin or Frey," he agreed easily. "Let them stay within their cage until I knew more about them. Even Ludo, for all I know far more about them now. But I've also seen what they can do in a fit of pique, and I would not release them so lightly. None of the gods of this world have our best interests at heart, for all they pick and choose individual favorites. I have learned that much." He paused, eyes narrowing at the bite in her voice. "And the studying has gone quite well. There's more to learn, but I know a great deal more about the bottom of that Spire than I did before. Both the dangers and the potential locked within it." A flicker of sorrow, then, for Rexanna would know more as well if she hadn't been so wrapped up with Bastien, and then with Zariah because of Bastien. And now this Ascension because of Bastien as well... He had to force himself not to grit his teeth against the rising anger towards the cult leader-turned-artist.
"Are you certain that she did not create the Spire?" he asked softly, remembering the inorganic blackness of the tree in the Woodlands and the black sphere within the Atheneum, all part and parcel of the substance of the Spire. Remembering, too, that none but Ascended could open that obelisk... a key he did not think the old gods would have put in place. "And perhaps the Demon was corrupted by the old gods. Or perhaps she let loose a soldier to keep non-Ascended mortals away and lost control of it, resulting in centuries of death and tragedy. The problem is that no one knows, for she would not tell her previous children that answer. 108 was one of the oldest, and even they were not allowed to know." It was hard to believe in innocence when there was such secrecy around things.
Then again, that was assuming the Voice could not or at least would not lie, and he had no reason to believe that anymore than he believed any of the other gods had proven themselves entirely honest. Unlikely to, yes. But not incapable of it.
"And what 'us' do you refer to?" he repeated softly, bardic instinct recognizing with painful irony that the conversation had come full circle. "What help has she provided for non-Ascended? For that matter, what has she provided to the Ascended beyond bribes and a contract of enforced servitude - to obey her or starve until you're as mad as the Demon?" And there was a thought... an Ascended who had been driven mad with hunger, starved as punishment for disobedience until it lost all semblance of mind and became a ravening beast, drawn to the Voice as the source of sustenance within the Spire even as it fought to keep others away from the source of its madness? Terrifying thought...
"'Don’t you think it’s important to have someone on both sides?'" he quoted back to her, an uncanny echo of her voice coming from his mimic's throat. "Your words, not mine." He sighed, head dropping wearily so he would not have to look up at her anymore, young and blazing with her newfound power, so brightly that she blinded herself to the consequences. "For what it's worth, I believe you had the tools before, and they were yours. Not Bastien's, and not some god's. I just hope you feel this way next year, when the newness of it has worn off." He still remembered Sam's bitterness at losing his senses, especially taste and feeling the warmth of others. It was a terrible price to pay for power, and one that would only grow steeper with time, he feared.
But then again, wasn't that why the Voice bribed her children with shiny new trinkets, regularly giving them new toys and abilities to distract them from what they had lost? Goddess she might now be, but she had been mortal once, and she had an understanding of mortals that made her far more dangerous than the old gods would ever be.
"Who told you to avoid them?" he asked gently. "No one warned me away from Sam, or from Isla after she Ascended. No one made any complaints about them being in my guild. Rory and Amalia have had friends among the Ascended as well, so it's not just a matter of naturals versus outlanders. I sat in the Rathskeller and walked the town regularly, and I didn't see trouble begin until after what happened at Spire." Then, yes, there had been anger and resentment at the trampling of the non-Ascended's dignity and the magic cast against them without their consent.
The venom in her voice surprised him, and it worried him all the more at how she had changed in more than just body. Though she had Ascended only recently it was as though she took the Spire and events around it personally. "You nearly died as well, I seem to recall, from Lucas's fangs," he pointed out quietly. "But those who went up encountered no poison. Only those who went down. And I never did get a full accounting of what they did down there, but that poison wasn't always there. That might be something to ask Lucas the next time you see him." He tilted his head at her wearily, curious at her word choice. "And cage it might have become, but even you admit that it was her stronghold first and foremost."
He arched a brow at the flurry of questions - more than half accusation, and he snorted a wry, humorless laugh. "I would do the same for Safrin or Frey," he agreed easily. "Let them stay within their cage until I knew more about them. Even Ludo, for all I know far more about them now. But I've also seen what they can do in a fit of pique, and I would not release them so lightly. None of the gods of this world have our best interests at heart, for all they pick and choose individual favorites. I have learned that much." He paused, eyes narrowing at the bite in her voice. "And the studying has gone quite well. There's more to learn, but I know a great deal more about the bottom of that Spire than I did before. Both the dangers and the potential locked within it." A flicker of sorrow, then, for Rexanna would know more as well if she hadn't been so wrapped up with Bastien, and then with Zariah because of Bastien. And now this Ascension because of Bastien as well... He had to force himself not to grit his teeth against the rising anger towards the cult leader-turned-artist.
"Are you certain that she did not create the Spire?" he asked softly, remembering the inorganic blackness of the tree in the Woodlands and the black sphere within the Atheneum, all part and parcel of the substance of the Spire. Remembering, too, that none but Ascended could open that obelisk... a key he did not think the old gods would have put in place. "And perhaps the Demon was corrupted by the old gods. Or perhaps she let loose a soldier to keep non-Ascended mortals away and lost control of it, resulting in centuries of death and tragedy. The problem is that no one knows, for she would not tell her previous children that answer. 108 was one of the oldest, and even they were not allowed to know." It was hard to believe in innocence when there was such secrecy around things.
Then again, that was assuming the Voice could not or at least would not lie, and he had no reason to believe that anymore than he believed any of the other gods had proven themselves entirely honest. Unlikely to, yes. But not incapable of it.
"And what 'us' do you refer to?" he repeated softly, bardic instinct recognizing with painful irony that the conversation had come full circle. "What help has she provided for non-Ascended? For that matter, what has she provided to the Ascended beyond bribes and a contract of enforced servitude - to obey her or starve until you're as mad as the Demon?" And there was a thought... an Ascended who had been driven mad with hunger, starved as punishment for disobedience until it lost all semblance of mind and became a ravening beast, drawn to the Voice as the source of sustenance within the Spire even as it fought to keep others away from the source of its madness? Terrifying thought...
"'Don’t you think it’s important to have someone on both sides?'" he quoted back to her, an uncanny echo of her voice coming from his mimic's throat. "Your words, not mine." He sighed, head dropping wearily so he would not have to look up at her anymore, young and blazing with her newfound power, so brightly that she blinded herself to the consequences. "For what it's worth, I believe you had the tools before, and they were yours. Not Bastien's, and not some god's. I just hope you feel this way next year, when the newness of it has worn off." He still remembered Sam's bitterness at losing his senses, especially taste and feeling the warmth of others. It was a terrible price to pay for power, and one that would only grow steeper with time, he feared.
But then again, wasn't that why the Voice bribed her children with shiny new trinkets, regularly giving them new toys and abilities to distract them from what they had lost? Goddess she might now be, but she had been mortal once, and she had an understanding of mortals that made her far more dangerous than the old gods would ever be.
