The Crippled God

comfort in that kind of sharing.’
    ‘If not comfort, then find strength .’
    ‘To keep bearing that suffering? What for?’
    Yes, Nom Kala, what for? Do you have an answer? Does anyone? ‘When you at last reach across that chasm, mortal, and grasp tight the hand of the Fallen One, ask him your question.’
    He managed a sour smile. ‘Convenient.’ And he closed his eyes once more.
    She continued on, troubled, heavy with anguish. The T’lan Imass have seen civilizations rise and fall. We have seen lands die, only to be reborn. We have seen the seas rise and we have walked ancient seabeds. We have witnessed life’s myriad struggles. From the lone creature suffering its last moments to thousands dying in a bleak season .
    And what have we learned?
    Only that life is its own purpose. And that, where there is life, there shall be suffering. Has it any meaning? Is existence reason enough?
    I am an Unbound. I am free to see, and what is it that I see?
    I see … nothing .
    Ahead, at the vanguard of the column, there were figures. Standing. Now, I must find a worthy lie. And if my name is to be cursed in the last breaths of these humans, so be it. My crime was hope. My punishment is to see it fail .
    But the T’lan Imass have weathered that punishment for a long time, and the failure of hope has a name: it is called suffering .
    ‘Words,’ said Badalle, meeting the Adjunct’s eyes. ‘I found power in words. But that power is gone. I have nothing left.’
    Mother turned to her companions, but said nothing. There wasalmost no life left in her plain face, her plain eyes, and seeing that hurt Badalle somewhere inside. I had a poem for you. But it is gone. Dried up .
    A man combed his beard with filthy fingers and said, ‘Child … if your strength returns – another day …’
    ‘It is not that kind of strength,’ Badalle replied. ‘It is gone, perhaps for ever. I do not know how to get it back. I think it has died.’ I am not your hope. I cannot be. It was meant to be the other way round, don’t you see that? We are children. That and nothing more . ‘The god that died here, it was the same.’
    Mother frowned. ‘Can you explain that, Badalle?’
    She shook her head.
    The other man – the one with the haunted eyes – then spoke. ‘What can you tell us of that god, Badalle?’
    ‘He broke apart.’
    ‘Did he just break apart or did someone break him apart?’
    ‘He was murdered by his followers.’
    The man reacted as if he’d been struck in the face.
    ‘It is in the Song of the Shards,’ she continued. ‘The god sought to give his people one last gift. But they refused it. They would not live by it, and so they killed him.’ She shrugged. ‘It was long ago, in the age when believers murdered their gods if they didn’t like what the god had to say. But it’s all different now, isn’t it?’
    ‘Aye,’ the bearded man muttered. ‘Now we just ignore them to death.’
    ‘It’s not the gods that we ignore,’ said the woman standing beside Mother, ‘just their gifts of wisdom.’
    The other man spoke. ‘Do that long enough and the gods just wither and die. So it takes longer, but in the end, it’s still murder. And we’re just as vicious with mortals who have the nerve to say things we don’t want to hear.’ He cursed, and then said, ‘Is it any wonder we’ve outstayed our welcome?’
    Mother met Badalle’s eyes and asked, ‘This city – Icarias – who dwells there?’
    ‘Only ghosts, Mother.’
    Beside her, Saddic had seated himself on the ground, taking out his useless things, but at the mention of Icarias he looked up and then pointed at the bearded man. ‘Badalle,’ he said. ‘I saw this man. In the crystal caves beneath the city.’
    She considered this, and then shrugged. ‘Not ghosts, then. Memories.’
    ‘For ever frozen,’ the bearded man said, eyeing the boy. He faced Mother. ‘Adjunct, they cannot help you. Look at them – they’re dying just as we are.’
    ‘Would that we could have done better by them,’ said the other man.
    Mother hesitated, and then nodded, as if in defeat.
    This is not how it should be. What am I not seeing? Why do I feel so helpless?
    The bearded man was still watching Saddic, and then he said, ‘Send them back to their beds, Adjunct. This is all too … cruel. The sun and heat, I mean.’
    ‘Lostara—’
    ‘No, I will escort them, Adjunct.’
    ‘Very well, Captain. Badalle, this man, Ruthan Gudd, will take you back