“The deadminds will not speak to you, slayer of gods,” said a deep, tired-sounding voice. Honestly, couldn’t someone who called himself the God King get a decent cushion? “Hell take me,” Siris said, leaning back in the horrid throne.
The waiting period is one day before the next access attempt.” He’d write that in his book tonight, beginning a list of things he would try, once he didn’t have to worry about being hunted.
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“Even better,” he whispered, “how can I find freedom? Can you answer that for me, mirror? Can you tell me how I can be free of all this and live my life?”Ī rope swing from a tree, he thought. “Please, just tell me how I make the sword come at my will.” He was silent for a moment. Security question three: How many days passed before your first reincarnation?” “Am I supposed to answer as myself, or as the God King?” “Your riddles make no sense, mirror,” Siris said. “Old Jake Mardin,” Siris said, saying the name of the first man who had trained him in the sword, a retired soldier. Horrific and terrible though they had been, they had each shown that much honor. The daerils that guarded the castle had all followed the old precepts. It was a word for a master duelist, after the classical ideal. “Security question two: What was the name of your first and most trusted Aegis?”Īegis.
“Answer incorrect,” the mirror said politely. It was the answer to one of the riddles from the stories. “In the kingdom of night and dawn, at the break of the day,” he said. His mother had told him stories of magic mirrors that asked riddles. Please answer this security question: In what kingdom did you first meet the Worker?” “I’d like to know how the God King’s sword works.” “I . . .” Siris looked up at the shuffling host of daerils-in a variety of shapes and colors-gathering at the back of the room. Poking at the thing made it speak, which chilled him. something following the God King’s death. Only then did he remember the little mirror built into the armrest of the throne. So far, despite a week of tinkering, Siris hadn’t been able to figure out how that magic worked. The blade had some kind of magic that had let the God King summon it, making it appear as if out of nothing in a flash of light. He inspected the Infinity Blade as he waited. That seemed a good enough reason to him to keep the helmet off, for now. He’d removed his helm and set his shield to the side, though he kept the Infinity Blade close. The God King’s throne wasn’t very comfortable-though Siris was wearing armor, which never made sitting particularly comfortable. What had his mother meant by that? Surely she hadn’t meant to imply that he should take the God King’s place. He didn’t trust these creatures, not for a moment. “He is ancient and wise, a troll nearly forty years old.” Yes indeed! You have slain our ruler, and in so doing have become our leader.” “How many of you are there in this place, still?” “My lord . . .” the daeril began again, stepping up to him. “Greatest lord of all that is powerful and-” The court seemed strikingly familiar to him, though he’d only passed this way that one time. “What am I supposed to do with a kingdom?” Siris said, walking around the daeril-keeping an eye on it-and crossing the bridge to enter the palace’s outer court. He’d never be able to stand against the forces of the other gods, even if this creature were telling the truth. The castle is yours, now! The kingdom as well.” The creature didn’t attack, but threw itself at Siris’s feet.
It jumped forward, and Siris stumbled back, wary. He’d have to fight his way in again, it appeared.
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