Part 34 (1/2)
”I remember.” He touched the tip of his forefinger to her cheek, careful not to scratch her. He raised the finger and licked it. His eyes closed. A sensual smile curved his mouth.
”Are they alive?”
His eyes opened. The dreamy expression vanished. ”Yes.”
Weak with relief, she asked, ”Will you bring them home to me?”
”Griane . . .”
”You could just . . . open a portal. Like you opened the portal to Chaos. You could do that.”
”I could.”
”But you won't. Because that would be interfering. And G.o.ds aren't supposed to interfere in the affairs of men.”
”Correct.”
”But you do it all the time. You told us Tinnean was in Chaos. You opened the portal for Darak. You-”
”I merely fulfilled my part of the bargain.”
”Saving me from Morgath wasn't part of the bargain.”
His eyes narrowed. ”You're better at this than you were fifteen years ago.”
”You did that because you wanted to.”
”Perhaps.”
”So if you interfered then-”
”Saving you had no significant effect upon the game.”
”You call it a game? The world was dying!”
”Yes, yes.” He brushed aside the deaths of thousands, millions with an impatient gesture. ”But it was Darak who had the potential to restore the balance of nature. Because he loved his brother and wanted him back.”
”He loves his son and wants him back.”
”But the situation is different, isn't it? Your world is in no immediate danger of dying. Your husband and son, perhaps. But not the world.”
”The raiders killed twenty-three people in our village.”
”Twenty-three. Oh, dear.”
”Don't you dare mock their deaths.”
”I'm mocking you, not those who died. Twenty-three deaths or twenty-three hundred. The number is insignificant. We're talking of the possible annihilation of a culture, not the death of the world.”
”Annihilation?” she echoed, her voice faint.
”It's a possibility.”
”And you don't care? If we're . . . annihilated?”
”I'd prefer if you weren't.”
”Of course. Who would wors.h.i.+p you then? Who would sing songs and make up tales and bow down before you?”
”I haven't noticed any bowing lately,” he responded dryly. ”As to the rest, I am wors.h.i.+ped by many peoples. As are the Maker and the Unmaker, Bel and Gheala. Even the Oak and the Holly. Although, for obvious reasons, their cult is limited to those living in arboreal regions.”
”It's all a joke to you.”
”No, my dear, it's not. That is merely my manner-and the c.u.mulative effect of suffering thousands of these arguments with indignant mortals over the ages. You worry about the fate of individuals, Griane. I involve myself in the fate of worlds.”
”Then you won't help me?”
”I said I would not bring them home. After that, you embroiled me in this debate and lost sight of your purpose in coming here today.” He winked. ”The bit about saving you from Morgath was good, though.”
She had hoped to appeal to his affection for her. Now she was reduced to bargaining.
”If you won't bring them home, will you protect them?”
He considered her for a long moment before replying. ”I'll protect one. Your husband or your son.”
Griane shook her head. ”You made Darak do this. Choose between me and Cuillon.”
”And he chose the Holly-Lord.”
He was watching her closely to see if it still hurt after all these years. She'd never been any good at hiding her feelings. Let him see. ”I can't choose.”
”You won't choose. There's a difference.”
”All right. I won't choose.”
”Then we have nothing further to discuss.”
When he started to rise, she clutched his arm. ”How can I choose one if it means condemning the other to death?”
He simply watched her.
Think, Griane.
”Would I be condemning the other?”
He smiled. ”You survived without my protection. After I saved you from Morgath, of course.”
”You didn't answer my question.”