Promise of Blood

Tamas hesitated, trying to read Prime’s tone. There was something off about it. Despite the gruff way he spoke, it almost sounded as if Prime wanted Tamas to say yes.

“Ha. A god? No. A powerful Knacked. A little mad, maybe. But harmless,” Tamas said. “But then again…” He raised a finger alongside his nose in a secretive gesture. “What does a god look like? What does a god do? Who am I to know one when I see him?” He shook his head with a laugh at Prime’s exasperated look. “Mihali is a gifted man. Greatly so. I don’t think a god, though. How about you? You’re probably the most qualified to know. You’ve every history of the Nine at your fingertips. Do any talk of Adom?”

“I realized a long time ago Kresimir would never return.” Prime fell quiet, and Tamas realized he had no idea how old the vice-chancellor was.

“And Adom…” Tamas prompted.

“He loved his food,” Prime admitted. “He’s the patron saint of chefs for a reason. He was a big man, strong, powerful, and”—he tracked one of Mihali’s female assistants with his eyes as she passed by, a platter of stuffed waterfowl balanced on one hand—“he was very popular with the women. He had over four hundred wives, and loved every one of them. Figuratively and literally.”

“Four hundred?” Tamas said. “I could barely handle one.” His throat caught on that, and he had to clear it. “You speak as if you knew him yourself.”

Prime said nothing.

“Sounds like Mihali is a pretty good candidate.”

“There are too many questions,” Prime said. “There hasn’t been a god on this earth for hundreds and hundreds of years. Kresimir left, off to resume his exploration of the cosmos. Novi and Brude went the same way just days after. The rest followed, or disappeared without fanfare. There was a rumor that one or two of them had remained behind… ,” he said, trailing off.

Tamas exchanged a curious look with Lady Winceslav.

“Do you feel well?” Tamas asked.

Prime spared him a glance. “Would you believe me,” he said, “if I told you Mihali is a gifted sorcerer?”

“Without a doubt. Not a Privileged, though. A Knacked.”

Prime snorted. “A Knacked, my ass. What if I were to say, ‘the most powerful sorcerer in the world’? Or if I said that that’s all the gods ever were: immensely powerful sorcerers?”

“Hypothetically?” Tamas said, revealing his skepticism.

“The most powerful to ever live?”

“You’re joking.”

“It’s just a question,” Prime snapped.

“So what if he was?”

“The problem with logic,” Prime said, “is that sometimes you are forced to believe your own hypothesis, even if you don’t want to. What do you feel when you sense toward Mihali?”

“A Knacked, as I said. He has the soft glow to him. Less power than a Privileged by far.”

“Can you be sure?”

Tamas sighed. He opened his third eye and looked toward Mihali. There had to be many Knacked in such a large crowd, but Mihali was easy to find. Something about him stood out above the others. Yet his glow was no stronger.

“Yes,” Tamas said. He watched Prime’s face. The old man was frowning toward Mihali. “You don’t think it’s possible, do you? That he’s really a god?”

Prime closed his eyes and was quiet for several minutes. Tamas was beginning to wonder whether the old man had nodded off, when his eyes opened.

“Too many questions,” he said again.

“You said ‘the other gods,’” Tamas said, “I thought Kresimir was the only god.”

Prime shifted in his chair and watched a service-pressed clerk roll out a barrel of ale and gingerly move it down the front steps. “That’s not precisely true,” Prime said.

“It’s dogma,” Tamas said. “Charlemund reminded me so just the other day.”

“Just because something is church dogma does not make it true.”

“Well, certainly,” Tamas said, “any educated man…” He trailed off at Prime’s scowl.

“Educated men,” Prime said. “Bah. There were ten gods. Not one god and nine saints. Kresimir came initially, and then requested the help of his brothers and sisters to organize the Nine.”

“There’s ten gods?” Tamas said. He struggled to remember his history lessons. “I always thought Kez took Kresimir as their patron. Who is the tenth, then?”

Prime shook his head. “That’s the wrong question. You should be asking: If Mihali is a god, why is he here now?”

South Pike Mountain was hidden behind the House of Nobles, but they both turned in that direction. Tamas thought back to the warnings he’d received from Bo and Taniel. Ancient sorcerers trying to summon God. It was almost quaint, as if from a storybook. Fears generated from the stress of months of battle. Although, Tamas remembered, those first warnings came before the start of the siege. Tamas scratched at the top of his wounded leg. It began to hurt more, the pain returning like an ache long thought gone.

“Have you ever heard of Kresimir’s Promise?” Tamas said suddenly.

“Rubbish,” Prime said.

“Rubbish? You know of it? I was told it was a cabal secret, only known to the kings and their Privileged.”

“It is.” Prime mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.

Tamas was about to press him more when he heard a scream.