The Silver Lake by Fiona Patton Read Free Book Online Page A

Oristo-Cami.
    No self-respecting thief would ever serve a priest.
    Brax scowled as Cindar’s voice sounded overloud in his memory.
    No self-respecting abayos would get himself killed by one either, he shot back, ignoring the lump in his throat. What are we supposed to do now, starve?
    There was no answer and Brax hadn’t expected one. Cindar was dead. Even if he could have spoken with his delinkon, he wouldn’t have bothered. They were on their own.
    And whose fault is that? his mind demanded again.
    Shut up.
    Outside the stall, the winds died down as the first, wavering notes of Havo’s Morning Invocation song filled the air. The sun had risen. Brax squared his shoulders. Whatever else he did, he had to find them someplace more secure than this to sleep; the Second Night was more dangerous than the First and Brax would rather indenture them both to the docks’ shine-grubbing factor than face the shadows that came out in the rain and hail to suck the life from the unsworn on Havo’s Dance; the shadows that were growing stronger with each passing year. No, he would find them a place, whatever it took, a place where they would be safe, protected, and never have to fear the streets again, that he would swear, but for now he had to find them something to eat. As the dawn sun cast a dimpling of light across the stall’s wooden sides, he reached over and gently shook the younger boy awake.

    Far to the south, the waters of Gol-Beyaz stirred as Incasa rose from the depths, drawn to the future formed about the young thief’s peril. The spirits had found a way to coalesce about the boy’s desperation. They would feed on it and grow until they could take on some murky, physical form like half-curdled milk, and with that form they would be able to reach the waters of Gol-Beyaz and the shining power that gave the Gods Their strength. Incasa did not doubt that they would do it any more than He doubted that it would be His hand that drew them in and fashioned them to a form that most suited His desires when they did.
    Narrowing His snow-white eyes, the God of All Possible Futures considered the most important element necessary to bring this into being: the lake dwellers, mortal creatures of flesh and unclaimed power who had come to the shores of Gol-Beyaz so many centuries ago. The lake dwellers whose dreams and prayers had pattered down upon the waves like a constantly falling rain. As they’d built their homes, tilled their fields, and lifted the fish from the waters into their boats, the lake dwellers had prayed for knowledge that their crops would grow and that their children would flourish. From those prayers Incasa, the God of Probability, had been born, forming Havo, the God of Crops, and Oristo, the God of Children, in His wake.
    More centuries had passed and, as the lives of the lake dwellers had grown more sophisticated, so had their prayers. Medicine, Learning, and Martial Prowess had soon joined Prophecy, Food, and Family in their pantheon and now it was time to bring yet another aspect of those prayers into being: Conquest and Expansion would join Prosperity, Culture, and Protection in the lake of power, but only under Prophecy’s very tight control.
    Rising from the waters like a shining star, Incasa drew Estavia and Oristo up beside Him. As They broke the surface without so much as a ripple to mark their passage, He gestured, and the image of Anavatan appeared around them like a ghostly mirage. The three Deities danced along the dawn-lit streets, Incasa’s long white hair swirling half a heartbeat beyond Estavia’s flashing swords, and Oristo twirling along behind Them.
    Standing poised above the golden dome of Anavatan’s Derneke-Mahalle Citadel, the seat of the lake dwellers’ physical power, the God of Prophecy held His dice high above His head. The new deity needed a champion and a sacrifice to come into being, and Incasa Himself needed an agent of His will, a single loaded die, in case this new deity