“’Something’? Like another memory?”

Not quite. Xeph’s voice had an uneasy note to it. Well, as uneasy as mountain stone ever could be, anyway. It is more complex than that. Less a single memory, and more a bundle of interconnected ideas. It is... difficult to put into words. Or even mentally analyze. I do not think I will be done parsing out this information any time soon.

“So... what you’re basically saying is you didn’t actually learn anything new,” Callan said.

I would not put it so coarsely. I have learned a great deal. It is merely that it is jumbled, and I am unable to pick it apart in an orderly manner without careful study. Imagine if someone suddenly deposited the entirety of a book into your head, out of order. Would you be able to recite the plot at a moment’s notice?

“Geez, okay, I get it.” Callan retracted his hand, then stared up at the tree again. It was dizzying. This close, he couldn’t even see the top.

Just leaves and sunlight, and lilac sky peeking in around the edges.

“Avatar? Are you ready to go?” Kivi asked.

“Yeah, I think we’re done here.” Turning, he followed the others back through the maze of roots. The plateau was silent around them, but for the whisper of wind in the leaves overhead.

When they reached the outer edges of the roots, Xeph finally roused from his silent introspection. I have learned one detail that might interest you, human.

“Really? Shoot.”

“At what, Avatar?” Sworv asked, turning to look at him. Frowning, Callan shooed the priest away. They’d need to have that talk sometime about what conversations to ignore.

I was not wrong when I spoke of the sense of timelessness that the pythian evoke, Xeph continued, as if no interruption had even taken place. These trees are ancient. As far as we know, they have always been here. Even before the arrival of the gods in the Outerworld.

Callan frowned at that. “I thought you told me that gods couldn’t travel between stars. Or are you saying you came to this planet riding on avatars?”

His mind filled with visions of spaceships slipping through the vast darkness of the cosmos, of laser battles and screaming tie fighters. He shook his head. Somehow, the idea of adding gods and avatars into space travel just didn’t feel right.

Our arrival on this world far predates the coming of mankind. While I cannot say for certain, I believe most humans were drawn here in a similar fashion to how I summoned you, and not by more conventional routes.

“I guess that makes sense.” He’d seen nothing to indicate that level of technology anyway, but then again, the Badlands did seem a bit of a backwater location. “So how did you get here, then?”

I... don’t know. The exact details are lost to me. Far too many years have passed, to where even uncompressed memories have faded with time.

“Makes sense. I can barely remember what I had for dinner a week ago. Can’t imagine how bad that problem gets after a few millennia.”

It was more than a millennium, or even a few. By your Earthly measurements, it would have been roughly... ten million years ago that my fellow gods and I descended upon this planet.

The number stunned Callan to silence. Ten million years? That was a number so big his mind had trouble putting it into perspective. Long enough that humanity hadn’t existed yet, but dinosaurs would have been long gone... what era would that have been for Earth? The Pleistocene? Or maybe one of the ones before that.

Still, long enough back that it put what he knew about Xeph in a completely different light. The god was different from him, obviously. But to have lived and experienced such a vast gulf of time...

Xeph fell silent after that, and Callan left him to unravel his memories. All ten million years of them.

With a glance over his shoulder, he studied the pythian. In light of Xeph’s revelation, it certainly felt like it had a more timeless appearance to it. Or maybe it was all in his head.

That brought a chuckle to Callan’s lips. What wasn’t in his head these days?

About an hour past the tree, Kivi called a halt for lunch. They settled themselves next to a small spring that was bubbling out from between several large rocks. While the lud cobbled together a meal, Callan set to working with Shape Stone. By the time they were ready to eat, he’d recrafted the rocks to form a smooth bowl for the spring water to collect in. It was already half full.

“Something to benefit future travelers,” he noted when Kivi came to stand beside him. She nodded in approval.

“It won’t be long before everyone knows of the generosity of Xeph-Zul-Karatl. Their numbers shall swell our ranks to bursting.”

“Hah. I’d like to see that. We’re looking at, what, a few dozen more from Aos? Assuming we’re even that lucky.”

“More than that, I think. By the mayor’s estimate, her plateau is home to some near fifty yeth.”

If you are so worried about recruiting efforts, perhaps you shouldn’t spend two days to win the favor of a single rutain, Xeph quipped.

“Hey, you and I both agreed that was a worthwhile investment.”

And my thoughts on the matter remain unchanged. However, it is an unfortunate truth that we will require several magnitudes more to stand against Zavastu, should the need arise. She must be of at least the sixth tier for her to possess the ability to create archons.

The comment caught Callan off guard, as it was the first time Xeph had ever hinted about the other god’s potential strength. Another uncompressed memory, perhaps, or a simple omission to spare him further worries?

“How many followers are we talking to reach sixth tier?” he asked.

More than we will find on these sparsely populated plateaus.

“Yeah, but what does that mean, exactly? A thousand? Two?”

I’m not certain exactly, the specifics are still compressed. But I would hazard more than two thousand. Perhaps as many as twenty or more.

The number almost bowled Callan over. What would he even do with twenty thousand additional faith? Where would he allocate it all?

It seemed today was just the day to consider big numbers.

He noticed Sworv waving him over. Shaking away his worries, he moved to join the others. They sat on a soft blanket and enjoyed their lunch, which was mostly a mix of various goods left over from those Sadie had pressed upon them. Not that Callan was in a mood to complain. Eventually he’d be forced to return to eating survival rations back at Xeph’s temple.

Then again, one of the dishes he was currently munching on certainly reminded him of the mochi-like survival crackers. It had small bits of fluff mixed in with what appeared to be a variety of dried nuts and berries.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“This is really good,” he noted, scooping another handful and popping it into his mouth. Paeral gave a pleased nod.

“Thank you, Avatar. A recipe of my wife’s own creation. I took all that she had made before we left on our journey and can only hope she’ll have found the resources to make more before our return.”

“Ah, so Revak is good at domestics after all.” Sworv tossed a handful into his mouth and chewed loudly. “On the Sentinel’s honor, I never would have believed it.”

“Just because you’ve never kept a woman in your bed long enough to have her prepare a meal or two for you—” Paeral began. His brother laughed sharply.

“I suppose that’s true. Revak never offered to make me anything while she was warming my mattress.”

Paeral opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to remember his audience. His gaze flicked between Callan and Kivi, heat coloring his cheeks. He rose to his feet. “I should refill our canteens.”

“Yes, you do that, brother.” Sworv took another handful of the lud-brand trail mix, grinning broadly.

Remind me again, why did we think it was a good idea to make these two priests? Xeph asked. Callan just grimaced.

“You know, I’m sure it made sense at the time, but I’ve plumb forgotten already.”

He noticed Sworv looking at him and waved a hand dismissively. “Avatar stuff. You need to learn to tune that sort of thing out if you want to make it as a priest.”

The older man’s face paled. “Of course, Avatar. I’ll endeavor to do better.” He hesitated, then asked, “How am I to recognize which conversations I should ignore?”

“If you have to ask, you’ve already—”

“Avatar?” Kivi had risen and was dusting off her dress. She extended a hand. “Shall we set off? These two can catch up with us when they are done cleaning.”

“Oh, uh, sure, High Priestess.” He took her proffered hand in his own, and together they left the brothers behind. No sooner were they out of sight than the sound of bickering resumed. Callan let out a sigh.

“I see that you are also growing tired of their antics,” Kivi noted, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“You can say that again. Were they like that before becoming priests?”

Kivi nodded. “I wish I could say that elevating them both to Leadership made a difference, but they have always been at each other’s throats. At least they seem to rein in their worst impulses when you are around.”

“Seriously?” Callan glanced over his shoulder. “That was reining it in?”

“Mmhmm.”

Perhaps we should send one ahead to scout the way, Xeph suggested. A bit of space and time to clear their heads might serve them both well.

“Maybe. But it sounds as if we’re almost to Aos anyway. I think at this point we should just wait and keep them in separate rooms while we’re there. Maybe separate buildings, just to be safe.”

He turned to Kivi. “Are they really still arguing over Paeral’s wife after all this time? Seems kind of pointless.

“Perhaps to you, Avatar. To them, Revak’s decision still rankles, even this many years on.”

“Because she married Paeral, you mean?”

“Because she settled for Paeral.” Kivi paused, then glanced behind them. There was no sign of the brothers, and Callan suspected they’d hear their arguing long before the two men appeared. Satisfied, Kivi began walking again. “This was all before my time, you understand, but if the rumors I’ve heard are true, Revak truly loved Sworv. Enough that she almost chose him, Daisa caste or no.”

“So why didn’t she?” Callan asked, genuinely curious. After listening to the brothers bicker so much over it, he was starting to wonder what this Revak woman was like.

“Because she wanted a warm bed. Too much like her mother in that way.” Kivi shook her head, though whether in sorrow or admonition, he wasn’t certain.

“Right. Sworv mentioned her mother the other night as well.”

Sworv had implied the two women were similar, and not in a good way. Callan assumed the man had just meant it as an insult and nothing more, but he wasn’t certain the best way to phrase the question so that it didn’t sound insensitive.

“Shamain,” Kivi said, apparently reading the question on Callan’s face.

“Oh.” He nodded absently. Then stopped and looked at Kivi. “Wait, what?”

“Revak is Shamain’s third child. I thought you might wish to know.”

“Ohhhhhhkaaaaayyyy...” Callan wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this information. What exactly was Kivi implying about Shamain? What had Sworv, the other night?

“Most lud women will only share a bed with their husbands until they’ve borne a Daisa child,” Kivi said, her tone casual, as if she were merely discussing the weather. “Shamain has never been shy about discussing how much she enjoyed her husband’s embrace, something she had to give up after her fourth child. I imagine Revak was much the same. Luckily for her, she and Paeral only ever had the one.”

Right. Because of the whole baby-killing problem.

Callan almost started in on another tirade about the lud caste system, when something else Kivi had said registered in his skull. “So you’re telling me that Paeral is related to Shamain. At least by marriage.”

“Yes?” The lud girl tilted her head to look at him. “That isn’t so unusual. Most everyone in Tok is related to one another in some way. Even I’m a distant third cousin to Argas.”

“Is he related to Shamain, too?” It occurred to Callan that both Paeral and Argas had been made priests at Shamain’s suggestion. Suddenly he was wondering if that recommendation might have had a bit of nepotism behind it.

“She is his aunt, I believe.” Kivi paused, then added. “Great aunt, actually. Her late brother Novak married—”

“You don’t find that a tad suspicious?”

“Find what suspicious, Avatar?”

Quickly Callan explained his concerns to Kivi. When the lud professed ignorance as to the term nepotism, Callan gave her a brief synopsis, using some generic examples from his own world. The longer he talked, the more amused Kivi’s expression grew.

At last, she broke into the middle of his speech. “Oh, Avatar, are you certain you are not a yeth? Because that sounds like a very yeth thing to worry about.”

Callan frowned, unsure whether to be offended by this statement or not. He decided to just take it at face value. “It’s a valid concern.”

“For you, perhaps, but not for lud. We all work towards the common good together. Shamain, for all her eccentricities, would not have recommended either to the priesthood without valid cause. Besides, what would she have stood to gain from this? She was already a member of Leadership. It gives her no additional benefits choosing one member of the village over another simply because of family ties.”

“Except having someone easier to manipulate,” Callan noted. “Someone she can sway to her side.”

Kivi laughed again, the sound light and airy, and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “Even if lud stooped to such base motives, do you really think Shamain, of all people, would be among them? The woman who does whatever she wishes, regardless of how others think of her? The only elder in the village who refuses to bear the title, and spurns participating in all but the most important of decisions? Does that sound like the Shamain you know?”

It really didn’t, Callan had to admit. Perhaps Kivi was right, and he was simply reading into something that was little more than a coincidence.

The lud girl gave his hand another comforting squeeze. “Leave such worries to the other elevated races, Avatar. If I know yeth even a little bit, you’ll be burdened by such conspiracies soon enough when we arrive in Aos.”

A moment later they were rejoined by Paeral and Sworv. The two were no longer arguing, and in fact appeared to be pointedly ignoring each other entirely. Then again, they were holding hands, so Callan assumed they couldn’t be that mad at each other. Still, he’d take what peace he could get.

“What do you think, Xeph?” He muttered softly, while Kivi chatted amiably with Sworv about some future detail she had planned for the temple. “Am I worrying over nothing?”

You mean about Shamain and the priests that we selected at her recommendation? Hmm... It is true that the lud in ages past tended to hold a more communal view of life in general than the other races. Although I question whether such was instilled into them during the creation process as many of my siblings believed, or if it was simply learned behavior of a race that found itself falling out of favor as our newer creations took center stage—

“Is that a yes or a no?”

Hmmph. I was getting there, mortal. What I was attempting to say was that, for all they held to a communal view in the past, I do not think it is wise to assume that such still holds true in this present era. You remember the state we found the younger lud brother in back at the temple.

Callan’s mind flashed back to a scene of Sworv sitting in his room, face a blotchy yellow color from whatever beating he’d endured. He ground his teeth.

Yes, exactly. Our priestess wishes to see the best of her people, but everything we’ve learned about their society shows they value individual placement in the village much more now than they did in the past.

“So you think Shamain might be up to something?” Despite his earlier worries, it was difficult to imagine the crazy old woman plotting anything beyond how to make herself a nuisance.

Clearly Xeph agreed, as he let out a snort like a mountain cracking in half. That one likely just knew her family best and chose accordingly. After all, if one must choose, a known problem is always preferable to an unknown one.

“True. Better the devil you know and all that,” Callan said, nodding in agreement.

You Earth humans have certainly become fond of your idioms in the last few millennia. Or are you an exception to the rest of your species?

Callan grimaced. “Gads, I sure hope not. Every village needs its idiom, after all.”

...What?

“Exactly.”

I am extremely confused right now.

They reached the top of a small rise. Kivi came to a halt, and Callan stopped beside her. A short distance below he could make out large stretches of tilled soil, enough that Restaro could have fit his entire farm here ten times over, easily. Beyond these, the tops of several distant buildings could just barely be seen.

“The village of Aos. We have arrived at our destination, Avatar.”