"Not just one," Jigano murmured, thinking of the creature at the top of the Spire who had been freed by 108's sacrifice, and by something the pale Ascended had said when they had watched the Spire that winter's night a year and more ago. Thinking, too, of how easily the Voice had bound and subdued him in the Spire. "And be careful not to discount the one you do know about. Remember that it took all the Old Gods and all their herald-gods combined to temporarily thwart her, and in barely three centuries she found a way to bring down their barrier and loose herself and her followers into the world once more." What was a mere three centuries, in the life of a world? He had known elves who had lived that long, and he suspected that there were those among the Fae who were nearly that old. Arduinna had been, he was almost certain. Not a human lifespan to be sure, but absolutely a mortal one. "An interesting mindset," he allowed with a flicker of a smile, finding some solace in debating theology; a familiar hobby, once upon a time. "But have you considered that we do not tend their world so much as they suffer our presence upon it? As I understand it, the people of this world were not so much chosen as... accidental. A byproduct of the experiments of the god Rae, who rules over nature and all its myriad possibilities." Or so Safrin's book had indicated, back when he had been in the goddess's good graces - and Amalia's as well.
A lifetime ago, it sometimes felt like.
Abasi had a point about Ronin and Jigano sighed slightly as he focused on growing the hedges, mixing earth magic with a bit of healing magic so they not only grew, but grew exuberantly. "Ronin was acknowledged by most of the people as the rightful ruler, but... he was one of the first stricken by the Blight. The first, I think. He still did his best to be king throughout his illness, working hard to balance the puppets Zariah and Wessex foisted on us but, yes, it took a cruel toll on him and his family." Did Abasi understand just how vicious a disease the blight had been? A moment later the question was answered and Jigano nodded. "Then perhaps you do understand how difficult it was for him," he said quietly. "But then, the same accusations you level against him go for Zariah as well, do they not? She fucked right off when things got difficult and has been absent for half a year now." And good riddance, his tone seemed to say, satisfaction evident in the curl of his lip as he urged the plants to grow strong and broad and tall.
If Abasi hadn't read the notice board or heard about Jigano's brief stint as King, he certainly wasn't going to tell him. Gods least fortunate, he wished it had never happened, and the fewer people who know of it, the better.
"Ah, a priest?" Jigano asked, glancing to Abasi thoughtfully and giving an understanding nod. That did explain the unhappiness with gods who didn't answer his prayers promptly. It wouldn't help him when one of them finally did decide to pay attention to him... but it explained it. "The priesthoods here are small and scattered things. Each god has their own niche, and not all of them get along. Safrin and Ludo, for instance, don't seem to get along very well, and neither of them has much respect for Frey." And all of them were capricious and potentially quite dangerous, even to their own worshipers if they answered a prayer on a bad day. "The older Old Gods were absent from the Hollowed Grounds for three hundred years, until only a year ago, so I don't think they even have proper priesthoods here. Perhaps in other places... but here their names were all but forgotten except among the most pious." The Chandrakants came to mind... and Jigano wondered what Amalia was doing that day.
A lifetime ago, it sometimes felt like.
Abasi had a point about Ronin and Jigano sighed slightly as he focused on growing the hedges, mixing earth magic with a bit of healing magic so they not only grew, but grew exuberantly. "Ronin was acknowledged by most of the people as the rightful ruler, but... he was one of the first stricken by the Blight. The first, I think. He still did his best to be king throughout his illness, working hard to balance the puppets Zariah and Wessex foisted on us but, yes, it took a cruel toll on him and his family." Did Abasi understand just how vicious a disease the blight had been? A moment later the question was answered and Jigano nodded. "Then perhaps you do understand how difficult it was for him," he said quietly. "But then, the same accusations you level against him go for Zariah as well, do they not? She fucked right off when things got difficult and has been absent for half a year now." And good riddance, his tone seemed to say, satisfaction evident in the curl of his lip as he urged the plants to grow strong and broad and tall.
If Abasi hadn't read the notice board or heard about Jigano's brief stint as King, he certainly wasn't going to tell him. Gods least fortunate, he wished it had never happened, and the fewer people who know of it, the better.
"Ah, a priest?" Jigano asked, glancing to Abasi thoughtfully and giving an understanding nod. That did explain the unhappiness with gods who didn't answer his prayers promptly. It wouldn't help him when one of them finally did decide to pay attention to him... but it explained it. "The priesthoods here are small and scattered things. Each god has their own niche, and not all of them get along. Safrin and Ludo, for instance, don't seem to get along very well, and neither of them has much respect for Frey." And all of them were capricious and potentially quite dangerous, even to their own worshipers if they answered a prayer on a bad day. "The older Old Gods were absent from the Hollowed Grounds for three hundred years, until only a year ago, so I don't think they even have proper priesthoods here. Perhaps in other places... but here their names were all but forgotten except among the most pious." The Chandrakants came to mind... and Jigano wondered what Amalia was doing that day.
