The Broken God Gareth Hanrahan (all ebook reader TXT) 📖

at once sacrificed to and liberated from the dream of a better city. Like alkahest, Cari frees him to move, to think, to find another way.

Welcome home.

“I didn’t think I’d make it.”

I knew you would.

“Liar. You told me not to go.”

It was hard. His thoughts carry that darkness with him, the memory of his broken time. Cari shudders – even experiencing that dissolution, that unravelling, second-hand is terrifying.

“What are you, now? I saw the New City as we approached, and… it wasn’t you.”

I was driven out. Spar’s voice is thoughtful. Although I’m not sure what “I” really means, any more. What are you, Cari? Your soul? Your thoughts? Your memories? The body that houses them? We are all more fluid than we imagine, I think. We seek meaning to give ourselves form.

She clenches her fist around the stone so tightly it digs into the skin. “I’m here. I came back for you. I don’t give a shit about philosophy. How’s that for an answer?”

A distant flicker of amusement. She’ll take it.

“I hear,” she jokes, “you’ve been cheating on me with another saint.”

Rasce. He’s… I thought he had it in him to be a good man. I still do. But his loyalty to the dragon poisons him. Spar’s voice fades in and out in Cari’s mind. The psychic equivalent of a furtive whisper.

“You’re hiding from him.”

He drove me out.

“How did he force you out? I mean, it’s your…” She searches for the right word. Body? Domain? Miraculous gift?

My consciousness is fragile, says Spar. I can’t fight him without… losing the thread of myself. Cari can sense his fragility, Spar’s mind is like a soap bubble on the surface of the stone. Something beautiful and precious and fleeting. She crossed the world to find a way to save Spar, and now he’s in more peril than ever. She glances across the room, to where Eladora and Alic Nemon whisper to each other. Eladora and a renegade god, wearing a human mask. Their prayers preserve the thread of my existence, Alic had said, like it was something to be proud of. Using people like stepping stones across the mire.

Could Spar do the same? Cari would gladly bear that burden. But he was fading even when she was right there with him as the Saint of Knives – that’s why she left in the first place! There’s something different about Spar, so the trick that Nemon’s using won’t work for him. All these sorcerers and alchemists and priests running around conspiring against each other, and none of them willing to tell her how to put things right.

Cari, it’s all right. It’s not your job to save me.

His thought comes as a shock. She’s been travelling alone for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to have him reply to her thoughts.

“Of course it is,” Cari replies.

No, it’s not. Some things cannot be fixed.

“Fuck that. The Ghierdana stole my blood, Spar. They stole my amulet. The only reason Rasce was able to do what he’s done is because of magic shit and alchemy.”

I don’t think it was just that. My first connection with him was before that. I think I recognised something in him. Some… potential, maybe?

Cari runs her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Eladora wants me to kill him. So, we kill him. He deserves it for all he’s done. Burning the towers and—”

We burned the towers, too.

“Not the same. That was an accident—”

We didn’t know what would happen, and we tried to put it right afterwards. We made amends as best we could. We should give Rasce the chance to make amends, and resolve this peacefully. The city’s seen enough death.

“Godshit, no. This all fucking began because I didn’t kill Artolo when I had the chance. No more leaving enemies behind us. Spar, I’ve spent months running from the Ghierdana. The bastards don’t give up. They’re all, I dunno, inbred or something.”

Brought up from birth to serve the dragon. But you of all people, Carillon Thay, should know something about breaking free of one’s monstrous family and their intentions for you.

“Oh, fuck you.”

Sorry, but… we can do this. Remember in the Crisis – before I died – when we thought we could gain control of the Ravellers through you? It’s a moment like that one. Idge wrote that there are moments when individuals can break free of the historical forces that constrain them and make a change.

Carillon groans. “You’re so bloody stubborn. All right. We’ll try – but we get Rat first.”

Because Rat is always so eager to forgive those who have wronged him, says Spar with a wry note of relief in his voice.

“Yeah. I’m hoping he brings you down to the gutter with the rest of us mere mortals.” Cari rifles through Eladora’s desk – ignoring Eladora’s horrified glare – and finds a small silver necklace with an amber pendant. She draws her knife, pops the amber out of its housing, and slots the Spar-pebble in its place. “Saving you bought Rasce one chance. If he doesn’t take it, I’m going to kill him.”

Rasce is watching the tunnels. He sees like you saw. If you enter the New City, he’ll know.

“He has to catch me first.”

Tallowmen hiss and leer as Carillon leaves the lithosarium. She pauses at the threshold, looking back at her cousin. Eladora stays in the shadows of the doorway, careful to stay out of sight. Flinching at every movement on the rooftops, cautious of both gods and men with guns.

“Be careful, Carillon,” says Eladora. “Please, return here once you’ve dealt with Rasce. Finding a way out of this present peril will require delicate diplomacy. Once balance is restored between the occupying forces, we shall need above all a period of stability. We’ll need time to, ah, reassure the alchemists that Guerdon is still safe for business and convince them to reverse their decision to leave.”

Cari stares up at the towers of the New City. “I’m not coming back, El.”

“You’re leaving Guerdon?”

“No.” Cari closes her hand