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But not the way the scourge sorcerers claimed was needed.
I swallow the lump that’s risen in my throat and glance at Delfis, keeping my own voice low. “How much have they been told?”
The cleric pulls his large frame away from the doorway and rakes a hand through his shaggy hair, which is even messier than usual. “I won’t have my devouts lie to them. Elox believes that honesty can heal. But we’ve avoided getting into many specifics so far. They’re still experiencing a lot of distress about their situation. It seems to upset them to be taken care of with kindness. How they must have been treated before…”
My throat tightens further. “I know. It’s horrible. Back in Florian, potential accomplices were being recruited from an orphanage—kids who had no family, groomed to be willing sacrifices for what was supposed to be a great and urgent cause.”
Delfis winces in horror. I find myself adding, even though I’m not sure it’ll make a cleric of Elox feel better, “The man who orchestrated those particular sacrifices is dead. I made sure of it.”
He nods and doesn’t ask how. I’d imagine he’d rather not know.
Will there be a time when I admit to this kindly man the truth about my own magic? Would he accept my riven soul as easily as he has these broken bodies, or would he recoil from me like so many others have?
I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question.
Delfis sighs. “They have a long way to come. But this is the best possible place for them to find the healing they need. I’ll have to meditate on how to make the rest of their existence as comfortable and fulfilling as it can be.”
It’s hard to imagine how they could have much of a life in their current state. But if anyone can help them, I believe it’s Delfis.
I shift my weight, already suspecting what answer I’ll get to the main question I came to ask. “The ‘Festival of Freedom’ is happening in just two days. Do you think any of them would be in a steady enough state to speak on our behalf then?”
The cleric’s mouth twists apologetically. “I wish I could give you hope, but I have to say it’s highly unlikely. Another disruption when they’re having so much trouble settling in here would only set back their recovery. You wouldn’t want them speaking in favor of the scourge sorcerers or lashing out at the queen’s supporters anyway.”
“We wouldn’t,” I agree, and suppress a sigh of my own. “There were a few other sacrificial accomplices we rescued from a brothel in Pima weeks ago. Voleska is looking into whether any of them are stable enough that they could speak for our cause. If not… we’ll find other ways.”
Delfis shoots me a smile that makes me feel twice as guilty about the secrets I’m keeping from him. “Make sure you’re getting enough rest yourself. Those who work the hardest need the most time to recover.”
“Of course.” I manage a strained smile in return.
I head straight toward the room where we’ve been having our strategy sessions, passing the guest dormitories where we’ve been sleeping on the way.
Halfway down the hall, Alek emerges from a doorway. He jerks to a halt at the sight of me and holds out his hand to beckon me over.
The scholar’s expression looks so haunted that my stomach lurches. I hurry to his side. “What’s wrong?”
He takes my arm and guides me into the dormitory. No one else is in there at the moment, though the rumpled covers from this morning have been straightened by the temple staff.
Alek gazes into my eyes for a moment before his head droops. He seems to gather himself, his jaw flexing. Then he raises his chin again. “I found out something. Something I could get in trouble for telling you. But I think you need to know.”
Anxiety coils around my gut. “What? Who would you be in trouble with?” It’s hard to imagine anything putting us in more personal jeopardy than the scourge sorcerers already have.
Alek exhales in a ragged rush and takes my arm again. He strokes his thumb over my skin as he speaks. “Back at the Haven, I found a journal written by one of the very early riven that said some incredible things. I didn’t know whether to believe the story or whether it was only madness, but just a few hours ago, I found records in the temple library that corroborate the account.”
My mouth goes dry. This is something about my magic?
Something bad?
I force myself to respond. “What exactly did they say?”
“The gist of it is that… being riven isn’t a punishment the gods inflicted after the Great Retribution. The first riven souls weren’t born in the aftermath. The godlen themselves, and maybe the All-Giver too, broke through the souls of people who were already living so that they could funnel their power through those people and rain down justice on the original scourge sorcerers.”
I stare at Alek for a few thuds of my heart before everything he’s said sinks in. “The gods needed us to be riven? They made people that way to act on their behalf?”
Alek dips his head, his expression still fraught. “I know it sounds crazy—but it also makes so much sense when you think about how the gods normally interact with the mortal world, how little they usually can. And there are the things Kosmel said to you about not wanting to make your situation worse than the gods already have… It all adds up.”
I press my hand to my forehead as if I can steady my thoughts that way. “But—why haven’t the godlen made the truth clear? Delivered some kind of message to the clerics? Stopped people from hunting us down?”
“I don’t know,” Alek says quietly. “Maybe after the fact, when they realized they couldn’t heal the souls they’d fractured, they thought the riven and their descendants would provide a useful warning to the rest of humanity. But that doesn’t mean any of you deserve to be seen as monsters. I think it matters that the riven started out protecting the continent, not destroying it. The gods didn’t create you as a test or warning but as… as accomplices.”
