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“The Book of the Goddess?” I lifted a brow, remembering the book that I grew up with in my home, and its nearly empty newer version that I had laid hands on in Amari’s home weeks before. Weeks. Days. It felt like a lifetime.
“That book is empty,” I continued, thinking of the pages of histories in the one I had grown up with. “It’s meant to give news and ask for blessings from the Goddess. There is nothing in there to read.”
“That’s where you are wrong.” Ryndle waved the blade of grass forward as if emphasizing his point. “That book is not the Book of the Goddess. The book you are thinking of is a messenger book. It’s blessed by the priestesses who live and worship at the temple, yes, but it is not the book of the Goddess.”
That wild joy of talking about this coming off him in waves.I should have stopped him, I wasn’t some religious fanatic and I would not become one. I knew some of the histories, and the stories of the Goddess and her sister and the break and rebirth of Okivo, but I had never read a holy book, and I didn’t care to start.
There was, however, no stopping him. I was trapped on a perch behind the stinky ass of two horses, Ryndle grinning even as I glared down the long road.
“There is an actual book called The Book of the Goddess that was written by the sister before her banishment. It details not only the history, but also the guidance that the Goddess set down before she left us. I served many years at the altars of the Temple of the Sister. You can find a copy there when we arrive and see it for yourself.” I was still staring straight forward as he rambled, his voice carrying even over the incessant creaking of the wagons. “Although, I do not think you could read it.”
Something prickled at the way he said that, my hands gripping the reins tightly.
“I can read,” I snapped, although many on the Qits could not. It was, however, something I took pride in and I fed right into the trap that he had laid out for me.
“That may be,” he mused, leaning back against the wagon again. “But this book is not in our language.”
“The Book of the Goddess is not in our language?” I almost laughed, the idea was ridiculous. “The divine book at the core of the religion that all of Okivo follows is not written in our language. What language is it in?”
There wasn’t another language that I was aware of, even in the neighboring Kingdoms of Lyran and perhaps Tyral they spoke our tongue. It was one of the first decrees laid down by the First Ramal, long before the battle that had annihilated the Sister and the Fae and had sent the Goddess back to her realm.
Ryndle made a noise as though he himself was trying to figure out the answer to the questions and leaned back, folding his arms again and sending all of those tattoos twinkling.
Tattoos made of words that were also not in our language.
“I take it that language also happens to be the language that you have tattooed all over yourself?” And all over me, I wanted to add, but thinking about it sent waves of furious anger rolling over me again.
“Yes.” He leaned in, his smile replaced by something more serious as he studied me. He was clearly waiting for me to continue, to figure out some mystery about the words. Words that had apparently healed me.
“What language is that?” I was pulling the reins so tightly that one of the horses knickered in protest. I forced my hands to calm, even if the tension in my fingers were still aching with the pressure.
“Now, that I could not tell you. I do know how to read it, however. That knowledge was given to me by my ancestors and I passed that along to the Lightens.”
“Is that why you use it for tattoos then, because it is from the sacred texts?” I wished it was only that, but knowing what the words had done when branded on my skin I highly doubted it.
“Yes and no,” he leaned back again, moving back into his calm demeanor. The man was two sides of a very frustrating coin, mystery and glee. Neither blended well. “Language is powerful, and you know Caspyn light bringer–”
“Don’t call me that,” I growled, but he was already plowing on as if I hadn’t said anything.
“We use the words because the words have power all their own. The words are tied to Okivo, they were part of its creation and part of the magic that this land holds.”
“Are you saying that these words have magic? I thought only Requisites have magic.” I said it, even though I knew how wrong that was. Even saying the lie pulled and tugged at my power, bringing it all forward as though it needed to remind me of its presence. I kept my focus forward in case my eyes had shifted.
“Perhaps.” Ryndle was leading again, his voice low as he leaned in and spoke soft enough that I was sure even his followers who had been listening so intently to every word could not hear. “But perhaps Requisites are the only ones who have learned how to harness the magic. Magic belongs to Okivo. It flows through the air, it bleeds through the soil, it sparks in each fire, it grows in each living thing. Of course, they call those magics different things when pulled through the hands of a wielder. Fíra, wôder, vio, Ær, lðt, the Requisites, the Catalysts… it's all their own names for something that doesn’t belong to them, isn’t it?”
“So, the Requisites don’t have magic.”
“Who knows. The histories tell us that the Fae stole the magic, that they broke it into three pieces when the Goddess pushed them into exile. But I have seen power in other places, I have read the book of the Goddess and those histories. I believe that all of that power belongs to Okivo. Perhaps, the Requisites have simply found a way to wield that power.”
“The Book of the Goddess doesn’t say the Fae broke the magic?” He knew exactly what game he was playing. That smug all-knowing smile of his was really getting on my nerves.
I wasn’t about to tell him that I had magic running through my veins even without a Requisite, but with what he was saying it was as though I didn’t need one anyway.
I had been labeled a Catalyst. The Catalysts would be killed because it was they who had stolen magic from the Requisites. The Requisites still needed the Catalysts, but that would change with the slaughtering and the Red Wave. What Ryndle was saying, however, didn’t fit into any of those narratives.
He seemed to think the power was in Okivo, or was part of Okivo, and that everyone was stealing it from them. I couldn't make sense of it, there were too many contradicting pieces of information, and not only from him, from what I knew before Lily, and from what I knew after.
It was as though everything I knew was a lie and hidden somewhere inside of it was the truth.
