More than once, Aria had heard waiting described as torture. She had always considered it hyperbolic and, certainly, it was meant to be. But the hours after leaving Achi ranked highly on the list of the most painful periods of her life. Thoughts sped through her brain like raindrops in a new year storm, wild, and harsh and painful. Was Achi dead? What would it mean if he was? Was it her fault? Was it the kiss? Could she have poisoned him in such a way before? Were all her protests misinformed?

Occasionally, she stilled the fury in her bind long enough to assert that, no, Achi was not dead or she would have heard of it. No, she had not accidentally poisoned Achi at the feast. He and his father seemed to believe that she had done it deliberately and with malice. No, her saliva was probably not poisonous; none of her past suitors had died.

Still, the constant vacillation between fear and hope grew too painful to bear. She waited for some sign that he was either well or dead but the seconds dragged on maddeningly, as if some powerful god had slowed them down to torment her.

Achi, as usual, had been generous with his money. The purse held enough to pay for weeks in a fancy lodging house, or months in a more modest one. She had chosen modesty, and was now regretting it. Her room had no windows and smelled of something sharp and unpleasant.

Her meal, a bowl of rice and beef, sat untouched before her. Due to stress, her new ghost status, or the meal’s unappetizing presentation, the thought of eating filled her with indifference. She picked at the meal, found that she could stomach some of it, and then pushed the rest aside.

Sleep would offer a respite from the torturous worrying, so she climbed into bed, pulled the thin covers up to her chin, and stared at the ceiling. Sleep did not come. What came instead, was a recollection of Achi’s face before she left him. There had been a quiet acceptance there, without blame or fear. Reading the expression now, she thought that he’d been certain of death. But, like throughout his entire illness, he had made no fuss of it. She’d seen men go to their death before, but none that quietly.

Her stomach churned, worry flaring up again. As Achi and as Isei, he had displayed inexplicable kindness. That, combined with his arrogant, self-assured manner had made him insufferable. Now, he wielded the same kindness over her, spending his last moments worried about her safety. If he died, she would never live down the guilt and there would never be a way to repay him.

“Don’t die,” she sent a prayer without a destination. Someone as sickeningly pure as him could not deserve it, arrogance notwithstanding.

Somehow, she fell asleep. It came stealthily, as it often did. She never realized that she was sleeping until she woke up. Waking, on the other hand, was perplexing. She was still sleepy and so there was no reason to wake. There were no intruders in her room. The door was still closed and none of the room’s objects had been moved.

She stretched her senses past the walls and found that it was nearly noon outside. People went about their day, merchants sold their wares, yet she felt odd.

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Then, the announcement came.

It rang as if the speaker was right beside her and, given the way Igbotulo’s population paused in their tasks, it rang everywhere in the city. The voice was male, deep, confident, and pleased.

“People of Igbotulo,” it said, “rejoice! Our Lord, The Great Conqueror, Victor of a Thousand Battles, and Terror of all who know his name has defeated Tivelo, self-styled Lord of the Sky.”

Aria sat up, every part of her fixed on the words.

“He has led his warriors into the Upper Realm, broken down the pretender’s defenses, plundered his goods, captured his servants, and killed his son. Achi, self-proclaimed Prince of the Sky is dead, his body lies broken before our Great Lord’s throne. No more will their taxes steal your labor, or their onerous laws burden your life.

“Today, people of Igbotulo, you witness the power of your god. The bodies and captives will arrive in Igbotulo at noon tomorrow. For the first time in your lives, you will see The Great Conqueror in all his glory, riding at the head of his victorious procession. A day of feasting has been declared, supplied by our Lord’s hands. Wear your best, eat your fill and, above all, rejoice!”

The voice disappeared leaving an uneasy silence in the city. For several seconds, few people moved. Many looked to their neighbors, as if searching for inspiration on how to respond to the announcement. Slowly, however, activity returned. Three kinds of reactions emerged. The first group of people, a small but significant number, returned to their day as if nothing had changed. Merchants resumed calling out their wares, buyers returned to browsing and haggling, and sleeping men and women turned over and resumed their nap.

The second group reacted with excitement. They turned to their neighbors, previous goals forgotten, and began discussing the announcement in words Aria did not wish to pick out. Some of those neighbors shared their excitement; some did not. Some hurriedly wrapped up their tasks - or simply abandoned them - and ran off to destinations unknown.

The last group appeared fearful. Aria saw merchants begin to pack up their wares with quick movements and worried expressions. For a brief moment, Aria was perplexed. Then she saw a symbol on one of their cloaks - a rod sprouting flowers - and understood. They were Tivelo’s devotees. If their god had truly been captured, a city of Garo’s followers was about as safe as a viper’s nest.

Aria, for her part, sat stunned as she watched the reactions. She had known that Achi was dying, so the depth of her shock surprised her. A nagging voice told her that she needed to make a plan. Garo would be bringing Tivelo to the city in a day, and she could not be near the Black God without dying. But there was no urgency in the knowledge. The danger was still a day away.

Fighting broke out two streets away. A group of Garo’s followers had set upon a man foolishly sporting Tivelo’s emblem and beat him. A bystander attempted to intervene and was quickly maligned as one of the Black God’s lackeys. Aria would have intervened, but the fight was over before she made her decision. City guards, finally doing their duty, freed the victims and advised them, roughly, to leave the city before they suffered worse. All devotees of Tivelo left in the city by sundown were to be relieved of their belongings and expelled unless they turned to Garo and made an offering of half of their wealth.

That was Aria’s cue to leave. She had no wish to be trapped in a city turned battlefield. Leaving was easy. She informed the innkeeper of her departure and left with her sole possession - her coin purse.