That is possible, said my grandfather.

I could think of nothing to say that would save me. He was insane; that was obvious. Why else turn rulership of the world into a contest prize? If he died tomorrow, Relad and Scimina would rip the earth asunder between them. The killing might not end for decades. And for all he knew, I was an idiot. If by some impossible chance I managed to gain the throne, I could plunge the Hundred Thousand Kingdoms into a spiral of mismanagement and suffering. He had to know that.

One cannot argue with madness. But sometimes, with luck and the Skyfathers blessing, one can understand it. Why?

He nodded as if he had expected my question. Your mother deprived me of an heir when she left our family. You will pay her debt.

She is four months in the grave, I snapped. Do you honestly want revenge against a dead woman?

This has nothing to do with revenge, Granddaughter. It is a matter of duty. He made a gesture with his left hand, and another courtier detached himself from the throng. Unlike the first manindeed, unlike most of the courtiers whose faces I could seethe mark on this mans forehead was a downturned half-moon, like an exaggerated frown. He knelt before the dais that held Dekartas chair, his waist-length red braid falling over one shoulder to curl on the floor.

I cannot hope that your mother has taught you duty, Dekarta said to me over this mans back. She abandoned hers to dally with her sweet-tongued savage. I allowed thisan indulgence I have often regretted. So I will assuage that regret by bringing you back into the fold, Granddaughter. Whether you live or die is irrelevant. You are Arameri, and like all of us, you will serve.

Then he waved to the red-haired man. Prepare her as best you can.

There was nothing more. The red-haired man rose and came to me, murmuring that I should follow him. I did. Thus ended my first meeting with my grandfather, and thus began my first day as an Arameri. It was not the worst of the days to come.

2

The Other Sky

THE CAPITAL OF MY LAND is called Arrebaia. It is a place of ancient stone, its walls overgrown by vines and guarded by beasts that do not exist. We have forgotten when it was founded, but it has been the capital for at least two thousand years. People there walk slowly and speak softly out of respect for the generations that have trodden those streets before, or perhaps just because they do not feel like being loud.

Skythe city, I meanis only five hundred years old, built when some disaster befell the previous Arameri seat. This makes it an adolescent as cities goand a rude, uncouth one at that. As my carriage rode through the citys center, other carriages went past in a clatter of wheels and horseshoes. People covered every sidewalk, bumping and milling and bustling, not talking. They all seemed in a hurry. The air was thick with familiar smells like horses and stagnant water amid indefinable scents, some acrid and some sickly sweet. There was nothing green in sight.

* * *

What was I?

Oh, yes. The gods.

Not the gods that remain in the heavens, who are loyal to Bright Itempas. There are others who were not loyal. Perhaps I should not call them gods, since no one worships them anymore. (How does one define god?) There must be a better name for what they are. Prisoners of war? Slaves? What did I call them beforeweapons?

Weapons. Yes.

They are said to be somewhere in Sky, four of them, trapped in tangible vessels and kept under lock and key and magic chain. Perhaps they sleep in crystal cases and are awakened on occasion to be polished and oiled. Perhaps they are shown off to honored guests.

But sometimes, sometimes, their masters call them forth. And then there are strange new plagues. Occasionally the population of an entire city will vanish overnight. Once, jagged, steaming pits appeared where there had been mountains.

It is not safe to hate the Arameri. Instead we hate their weapons, because weapons do not care.

* * *

My courtier companion was Tvril, who introduced himself as the palace steward. The name told me at least part of his heritage at once, but he went on to explain: he was a halfbreed like me, part Amn and part Ken. The Ken inhabit an island far to the east; they are famous for their seacraft. His strange red-colored hair came from them.

Dekartas beloved wife, the Lady Ygreth, died tragically young more than forty years ago, Tvril explained. He spoke briskly as we walked through Skys white halls, not sounding particularly broken up about the tragedy of the dead lady. Kinneth was just a child at the time, but it was already clear she would grow up to be a more-than-suitable heir, so I suppose Dekarta felt no pressing need to remarry. When Kinneth, er, left the family fold, he turned to the children of his late brother. There were four of them originally; Relad and Scimina were the youngest. Twinsruns in the family. Alas, their elder sister met with an unfortunate accident, or so the official story goes.