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“No! I don’t want to kill anyone! I believe—with all my heart, I believe—that no blood has to be spilled if a different kind of descendant can be found. One who mixes the heritage of Cordelan and Zessaya. Someone like you.” He was still staring at her. “How is it possible? How did you even come tobe?”
“My grandmother was Cordelano. Lived in Corcannon until she fell in love with an island boy, and they ran away together fifty years ago. She never talked much about the city, she just said it was a dangerous place.” Tezzel frowned. “And when she was older—when she was dying—she started to claim that she was descended from the god. Yes, and she insisted that the priests would have killed her if she’d ever returned to the city. We thought she was just raving.”
Pietro was trying to guess who her grandmother had been. Harlo had sworn that there were no women left who knew the truth of their doomed heritage. That branch of Cordelan’s family, he’d said, had died out decades ago. Of course, Pietro had come to assume that Harlo lied as often as he told the truth. “What was she called? Your grandmother?”
“Villette Rowan.”
That was it, that was the name Harlo had spoken the night ten years ago when he told Pietro the terrible story. “Huh,” he said. “The high divine of that era believed that she perished in a fire. The priests never went looking for her because they thought she was dead. I wonder how she managed that.” He smiled at Tezzel. “Maybe your grandfather helped her escape.”
“Apparently, he used to be a temple guard, but I always thought he was a mild old man. I can’t see him doing anything heroic.”
“Well, people will surprise you,” Stollo said.
“Would they really have killed her?” Tezzel asked.
“Eventually,” Pietro said. “They thought it was the only way to save the world.”
“And you think there’s another way?”
“I do. And I believe you and Aussen both have the power in your hands.”
She thought that over for a moment. The cart bounced over a particularly rough stretch of road, and the guard on the front bench cursed and grabbed for a handhold.
Tezzel said, “Wouldallof us have that power?”
If he hadn’t been thrown against the side of the cart by another nasty jolt, Pietro would have felt himself grow very still. “All of whom?” he asked carefully.
“My aunts. My sisters. My cousins.”
He heard Stollo suck in his breath. It hadn’t even occurred to him—they had lived so long with only a single tenuous lifeline— “How many of you are there?”
“I have three aunts and four sisters and fourteen cousins. Oh, and five nieces so far, and my cousins have more children than I can keep track of.”
He felt Stollo glance at him, but he was so stunned he could do nothing but stare at Tezzel. Stollo asked, “Do they have to be women? To manipulate the device?”
“I—I don’t know. The handprint is small, but maybe the hand of an island man is daintier than that of a Cordelano man—”
Tezzel laughed. “Well, it hardly matters. Only three of my cousins are male and so far there’s only been one boy born in Aussen’s generation. We joke that Zessaya hates our Cordelano blood so much she can’t bear to make a child in his image.”
Pietro managed a ghostly laugh of his own. “It might not be a joke.”
“So then you think—if I can move this lever—any of us could do it?”
“If Zessaya is merciful, that would be true,” Pietro said fervently. “If she is powerful. If selfish, spiteful Cordelan was willing to do one generous thing—”
“Pietro,” Stollo admonished.
“I don’t like your god, either,” Tezzel said.
The cart came to a rough, disorganized stop and they were all banged against the sides again. Rovyn would have fallen out except the captain grabbed her. “Can’t get any farther,” the driver spit out. “It’s all blocked. And I’m not laming my horse on one of these bad roads.”
Rovyn freed herself from the captain’s hands—though she gave him a sideways grin of thanks—and slipped smoothly from the cart. “We can walk the rest of the way,” she said.
The “walk” was more of a skid and a slide and a hike and a hustle as they navigated cracked pavement, rock-strewn sidewalks, and ill-lit back streets. But suddenly they burst through a narrow alley and Pietro was shocked to realize they had arrived in the Quatrefoil. He’d had no idea they were this close. He could not have retraced their steps if Stollo’s life depended on it.
“And now the temple?” Rovyn asked.
Pietro nodded and led the way forward. Like the major roads, the main plaza was full of people standing in groups and wandering around restlessly, too excited to go home, too frightened to step back indoors. Pietro tried to be polite as he pushed his way between them.
