Song of Ashes

41: Turncoat Priest

Konn furnished Sarka with another cup of his bitter brew and then poured a cup for himself. She took a sip. The drink was warming, at least.

"I was hoping you would come back to the temple refreshed, but I think your impromptu introduction to my lord has ruined the restorative effects of the bath," Konn said.

"How does a god lose his head?" Sarka asked.

Konn chuckled. "An interesting question. I'm afraid the answer is a story."

Sarka raised her brows, inviting him to continue.

The priest crossed the room toward his small writing desk. There lay a book Sarka had not noticed before; it was bound in plain leather and stamped with four letters: ATAI.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Lord Atai's God-Song."

"God-Song?"

Konn looked up at Sarka. "His God-Song. His Scripture." When she gave no sign of recognition, he smiled and assumed the patient tone of a teacher. "A very important book. Each god has one. It is one of the occupations of his priests to keep it. It must be renewed-copied and sanctified-every so often. A god cannot live without such a book. It tells the story of his life and his purviews, and it grants him his powers. The work of renewing Lord Atai's God-Song is long overdue."

"Why?"

"Well, child, as you no doubt have noticed, I am the only priest in his temple. My predecessor died three years ago. It falls to me to copy the God-Song and to tend to all other mortal matters here. I have made a start on the renewal, but it takes time. The other concern is that transcribing a God-Song is costly-buying the paper, the materials for the binding-and it takes months, even years, to save up the coin from the alms our parishioners grant us. It may not surprise you to know that Lord Atai is not the patron of the wealthy. Those folk tend to congregate at Lady Deyna's feet."

"So, that book tells the story of how Lord Atai lost his head."

"It does." Konn came back to the table and sat down, cradling the book in his hands. He opened the cover and turned a couple of pages, his expression touched with the warmth of familiarity and affection. "You see, in the beginning, Atai was a whole man like any other man. He was a healer in the army of Galdren at the time of the Setting Sun War. In that age, Yhva had settled a portion of our continent by raiding and colonizing the settlements there, blazing their golden banners and seeking conquest-"

"Wait," Sarka said. "He's not a man, he's a god. Why does it say he's a man?"

"He was a man." Konn gave Sarka a searching look. "All gods begin as humans, my dear girl. Gods are not born. They are made."

Sarka struggled for a moment with Konn's mysterious response, but rather than puzzle through it, she gestured for him to go on.

"...seeking conquest. As they sought to gain more ground, the people of Galdren rose up against them.

"Leading the armies was Daros, the God of Valor who, with his sword Talastar, cut the life-strings of a dozen enemies with every strike. Behind him came a hundred battalions of Galdrenite men from all reaches of the land, each soul seeking to rid the shores of the Yhvai invaders. Last of all came Atai and his fellow healers, working to bind the wounds of the fallen.

"They fought bravely, gaining ground and losing ground over the span of a summer, an autumn, a winter, a spring: a whole, bitter year they fought, and more. Atai healed the wounded brought to him, and when the flames of battle burned high and hot, he went out into the bloody fields himself.