For all his power and glory, Drome was one more male asking, Will you? No—he was demanding that she obey. God or not, Moya’s mouth twisted into her usual wry smile. “Rel is where people go when they die. We died. Being a god and all, I assumed you knew how that worked.”
Drome narrowed his gaze, but rather than explode, he settled back, and the hint of a smile graced his lips. “Few people are able to stand before my light, much less sass me. You know full well what I’m asking. I locked the gate. How did you open it?”
Moya batted her eyes. “Maybe it didn’t latch all that well because it opened when I pushed. But now that you bring it up, why did you seal it? I heard you’re the undisputed ruler here. It seems odd that you would take orders from your sister.”
“It wasn’t an order, just a comment.” The god studied her for a long time, and with remarkable calm, he said, “You are an only child, Moya, daughter of Audrey. You can’t begin to understand what it’s like to have a sister, much less an evil twin. Ferrol is—well, let’s put it out there, shall we? She’s awful—a hideous, horrible, detestable, vicious, cruel being. But she is smart. She was the first one to leave Erebus, and she took all the other brilliant minds with her. But she’s not as smart as she thinks she is. Ferrol thought her exodus would mortally wound Uberlin.” Drome broke into a smile that burst into a laugh. He slapped a thigh, and the noise shook the room and made Moya stagger. “We almost didn’t know she’d left! All those great intellects—we didn’t need a one of them.” He continued to laugh, rocking in his chair. Then he calmed down, twisted his lips, and looked at them once more. “But she does have her moments, times of wisdom and insight. So no, little Rhune, I didn’t take orders, but I was intrigued by her request. If she wanted you, there must be a good reason. But I’m the one who has the prize . . . something you should be grateful for. Now I am faced with two curiosities: Why does my sister seek you, and how did you open a sealed gate? Who would like to help me solve these puzzles?” Drome looked at each of them, waiting for a volunteer.
No one spoke or raised a hand.
The god looked genuinely disappointed, even a bit hurt.
“I can understand being frightened. You think I’m some sort of monster, don’t you?” Drome sounded unduly persecuted. “I can empathize. Especially after mentioning how terrible my sister is and revealing that we are twins. But I’m not cruel like her. You’re all so young. You have no idea what real fear is. You didn’t exist when Uberlin ruled the world with razor-sharp fingers and stone boots. His word was law, unbreakable and absolute. And his retribution was swift and brutal.”
Drome sat back and chuckled. “The funny thing is, you and I are so much alike. You defy me, just as I once stood against Uberlin. During his reign, we—me, my brother, and sisters—were the heroes out to save the world from an evil tyrant. But Trilos was killed and in response Ferrol left. Being the first to break away, she inherited such lovely real estate.” He laughed, vibrating the stone.
With great pride, Drome said, “I was the second to leave, and I took every artisan in Erebus with me. That didn’t go unnoticed, let me assure you.”
“So, Erebus is a place?” Brin asked. Moya didn’t think Brin meant to ask the question. She spoke so softly that it was certain the Keeper of Ways was speaking to herself, but her excitement had gotten the better of her.
Drome heard her and leaned forward again, looking down. He smiled at Brin like a friendly old man who was happy to discover a child had been paying attention. “You’re the Keeper, aren’t you?”
Brin didn’t say anything, but she didn’t retreat, didn’t take her eyes off him. She would have had tea with a raow if it promised a good story, and this one had to be the best ever.
“Oh, yes! Erebus was a city—no, that’s not right—it was the city, the birthplace of everyone. Well, okay, not everyone. The Typhons were already locked up by then, and their children were wandering around somewhere eating rocks or whatever. Eton didn’t care about them, I guess. But everyone else was in Erebus, such a beautiful place, a perfect place. Then Uberlin’s greed and arrogance ruined everything.”
“What did he do?” Brin asked.
Drome narrowed his bushy brows at her. “I’d bet you’d like to know, wouldn’t you? Not just about the great Rex Uberlin, but all of it—the whole story. Would you like to know how Eton and Elan gave birth to Light, Water, Time, the Four Winds, the three Typhons, and the most beloved of all, Alurya? Or should I tell you why Eton created the underworld and buried Erl, Toth, and Gar?
“No, I think you’d rather I start with why Elan stole five of Eton’s teeth and what became of them. That’s where the tale really begins. That one explains how a family went to war against one another, leaving a mother bereft, barren, and estranged from her husband. And that, dear girl, is a very sad tale indeed.” Drome slapped the arms of his chair. “Uberlin was the first to make a throne. Did you know that? He invented it. Rex Uberlin—King Great One. I fought in the First War.
“Oh, Brin, we can trade. You tell me how you opened my gate, and I’ll fill all the shadows with light. You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll tell you what you need. How does that sound?”
“Sorry.” Moya shook her head. “There’s nothing we need to know. We just came to say thank you for the invitation to visit. It was nice meeting you. Please say goodbye to the Word of Drome for us when you see him. Oh, and don’t bother getting up. We can find our own way out.”
Moya took a step but only one. Her feet stopped, and she nearly fell. Looking down, she saw she was standing ankle-deep in the stone of the floor. Gasps caused her to look back, and she found that all of the others were suffering from the same affliction, as if the marble had melted into a wading pool and then had instantly frozen solid.
“Answer my questions!” Drome shouted this time, causing the room to shake.
Moya could feel an imaginary heart beating in her non-existent ears, and the desire to offer up the key returned once more.
“Does it concern the Golrok?” Drome asked.
Continued silence—and of course, no one moved.
Drome rubbed his beard, considering them. Then he got off his throne, walked down the steps, and stood before Rain. In an inexplicably calm manner, Rain watched the god as if Drome were putting on a not-too-entertaining show—the dwarf’s usual, ever-present expression. It took being trapped in the underworld when facing a glowing god of unfathomable power to make Moya realize how consistently out of place that expression had always been. Maybe this stone face was a dwarven virtue that Rain embodied to the fullest. It certainly explained why folks thought Dherg were descended from rocks.
“I am your god, Rain. Tell me how you entered this realm.”
Moya cringed. How can anyone refuse their own god?
“Through the gate,” Rain said without pause. “Was open when I got to it.”
Drome narrowed his eyes and studied the dwarf. “How was it opened?”
They all watched Rain as the god took an intimidating step toward him. “How?”
Moya couldn’t fault him if he broke. She wanted to do the same, and Drome wasn’t even her god. In many ways, she hoped Rain would tell, so it would be over. Just being in the god’s presence was becoming painful in the same way it would be to watch someone chew on a knife’s blade. It wasn’t her teeth, but she would still pray for it to stop.