“Fine,” Gavin said, “I’m the asshole.” He turned Confession, and the lock turned as smoothly as Andross Guile pivoting to stab you in the back.
“I’m sorry,” Gavin said.
He turned Contrition.
“I won’t do it again. Happy?”
He turned Satisfaction, and gave his best old Gavin Guile grin—marred somewhat, no doubt, by his missing dogtooth.
Orholam said, “There’s a difference between charming and winsome. You’re more the latter when you’re less the former, Man of Guile. Shoes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Leave your shoes. We walk now on holy ground.”
“Are you serious? I haven’t got time for this.”
“You’ve got all the time you need as long as your feet are touching the holy mountain.”
Gavin sighed. The obsidian of the path was polished, so it wasn’t like he had that as an excuse, and the old man was going to keep harping on this.
He took off his shoes and moved forward onto the path. It was wide enough here for ten abreast, and the overhanging ceiling high enough not to invoke his claustrophobia.
The open gate revealed to the left an array of stones of varying sizes, and to the right, another statue, her paint worn thin by the elements. Her head was bowed, and at her bare feet, dropped from open hands, lay a scepter.
“Behold the spirit of Humility,” Orholam said. “Here, you may expiate your Pride, the foundation of all sins. Here pilgrims select a stone to carry, symbolic of their own pride.”
“Well, one would hate to offend local customs,” Gavin said. He started to reach for the smallest of the stones.
“Hold,” Orholam said. “A word about the pilgrimage, before you make a mistake you’ll regret.”
“There are booby traps?” Gavin asked.
“No!” Orholam said as if it were the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “Why would luxiats try to kill people who are seeking Orholam? You want to know what your whole problem is, Guile?”
“Not really—”
“You’ve always feared men where you should have feared God.”
“That . . . is at least half true.”
“Shut up!” Orholam said. “Before you begin, do consider if you really wish to undertake this pilgrimage flippantly. Here’s how it works. At each level, you’ll pick a burden to carry representing your sin. At the next gate, you’ll trade in your burden for a small stone, commonly called a boon stone, a mark of how far you made it.”
“Ah, thus the pockets!” Gavin said, pulling at one of the seven funny-shaped pockets on his ancient tunic.
“When you arrive at the top—if you do—you may present them to Orholam, as a tribute that He makes holy. Some say that for each stone you present, Orholam grants a boon. Me, I don’t think Orholam’s favor can be bought.”
Those are two different kinds of favors, Gavin thought. But he said aloud, “So everyone gets seven favors?”
“Few, I think, got the chance to test it.”
This was starting to feel like an old magisters’ examination. But fine, he’d passed plenty of those, often in ways that infuriated the magisters. He could do so again.
“If I pick the wrong rock, do I not get the boon stone?” Gavin asked.
“No, but it’s written,” Orholam said, “that you will find the correct stone to be the lightest burden.”
“So the stones know somehow?” Gavin asked. “Clever, for stones.”
“You’ve seen greater magic. Done greater yourself.”
“No, I believe it. But, well, if you have stones here that weigh a man’s sins, I should like to take some home. Come in right handy when adjudicating disputes.”
“You could ask Orholam for that favor, if you wish.”
Gavin moved toward one of the smaller stones. “So can I try a few . . .”
“The first stone you touch is the stone you take, for good or ill.” He put his hands on his hips. “Are you really going to try to cheat a pilgrimage?”
“No!” Gavin said. He didn’t sound convincing even to his own ears.
“Consider carefully, please.”
“Consider what? The stones?” Gavin asked.
“Yes, those, in a moment, but no. Consider how you wish to start on this path. Start as you intend to go. You’ll reap what you’re planting.”
“What’s this thing?” Gavin asked, spotting an odd depression carved in the inner wall. He poked his head in. It looked like a chute, such as certain waterfalls carve. But—unfortunately—it was far too steep, slippery, and wide for him to climb directly. If he were hoping for a shortcut, he might as well simply scale the sheer walls of the tower instead.
“Lest you fear that hiking so burdened will slow you too much, know that this is where the celestial realms overlap the mundane. Time works differently here. Your first attempt will take less than two weeks, though here it will feel like only days have passed, so you’ll finish by Sun Day, if you aren’t too much of a sluggard. That’s considered the most blessed day possible, naturally. You’re highly favored to even have the chance.”
“I feel real lucky,” Gavin said.
“Your second attempt will feel like it takes the same amount of time, but during the attempt a year will pass. During the third, a decade.”
“You get multiple chances?”
“Some people refuse to learn easy lessons, even repeated ones, yet still don’t give up.”
“Fools, you mean,” Gavin said.
Orholam raised his eyebrows as if Gavin saying this was a bit rich. But instead of the stern rebuke Gavin had expected, Orholam said, “Gentleness suits you better. I know you’re not without it.”
For some reason, it quieted Gavin. He wanted to mock all this, all this holiness that had spilled rivers of blood. He wanted to punish Orholam for all the bitterness in his own heart. But Gavin had to climb regardless.
What if he climbed and failed, then had to worry that it had been his failure, not anyone else’s? Taking it seriously wouldn’t cost him much of anything except his own sanctimonious attitude—and it might gain Karris her life.
Whether Orholam Himself or a nexus of magic awaited Gavin at the top of this climb, he had to get there in order to find out. Everything might depend on him taking this seriously.
Grinwoody had said Gavin had to kill the magical nexus called Orholam by Sun Day or Karris would die. How would the Old Man of the Desert even know?
But actually, if Gavin killed all magic in the world, then everyone everywhere would know it right away.
“Woo!” he said. “Let’s expiate us some sins!” But though his tone was light, his heart was not.
Orholam didn’t reprimand him.
Gavin moved to the biggest stone. He was pretty much filled to the brim with Pride.
The rock, though, was nearly as big as his own torso. There was no way he could carry that thing. He itched at his eye patch.
Well, I’m not the most arrogant person I know. Maybe I should grade myself against the people in my set. After all, my father is far more arrogant than I am. So . . .
He picked up the second largest stone. It was heavy as death. He grunted.