Page 97 of Requiem of Silence

Zeli blinked, surprised at what sounded like genuine concern in his tone. “I—thank you. Yes, please.”

A simple, slightly chipped ceramic tea set appeared between them, steam venting from the pot. She startled, then tentatively reached out for it, but Gilmer beat her to the punch and poured two cups of fragrant tea, which tickled her nose.

“Where to begin?” he said, tapping his lip with a long finger. “Well, first, I should apologize for the subterfuge. I do enjoy watching the Rumpus. I’m only awake for a week every ten years, you see, and I’ve grown quite addicted to soaking up experiences during these few days. But I am sorry to have tricked you. The disguise is simply useful.”

Zeli gripped her mug tighter. “Are you cursed?” she whispered.

“What? No.” He laughed, throwing his head back. “Oh no, my dear. It is a choice. Living for as long as I do is a bore. Centuries ago, I decided to space things out a bit. The world was changing so quickly, I wanted to experience more of it. Invention, industry, technology. It’s all so fascinating. I thought I might appreciate it more if I didn’t consume quite so much.” He leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. “You see, I have somewhat of an addictive personality.”

Her brows rose, but she hadn’t heard of anything like that before, so she remained quiet.

“And I am not actually immortal, so extending my life with these long rests was the best way I could think of to prolong things, without going mad. To experience life as a child again… well, the world would be quite a different place if all could do so.”He took a slow sip from his teacup and gazed at her over the rim. Now his eyes made more sense in his grown-up face.

“You, I believe, are acquainted with the Queen Who Sleeps?” he asked.

Though the hot liquid had warmed her, cold swept over her skin at the question. “She is the Goddess Awoken, now. But yes.”

Gilmer nodded. “Ah, of course. Well, my sleep is somewhat like Hers. Though mine is, of course, voluntary. And I awake when I choose. It’s a different sort of spell. My followers created the Rumpus for the week in which I am awake to celebrate my return and to recommit themselves to me.” He sighed and stared off to the side. “They insist on continuing to worship me. An absent god is better than none at all, I suppose.”

Zeli frowned. “Do you have the power to stop them? From worshipping you? If—if that’s what you want?”

He considered for a moment and shrugged. “I suppose I could forbid it. Attach heavy punishments for their prayers and supplications, but people are people. Some would still gather in secret, convinced this was just a test of faith. The hearts of men are stubborn in that way.”

She swirled her cup a moment, watching the movement of the liquid. “What if you did something really terrible?” Chancing a glance up at him, she found him stroking his chin.

“Well, I suppose that public opinion would sway in that case. But there would, no doubt, be those who thought that becauseIdid it, it must be right. Belief is irrational—loving and hating are two sides of the same coin. So maybe you are right, maybe changing one into another would not be as difficult as I think. It could be I am just too vain to try it.” He chuckled and drained his cup.

Then he turned sharply toward the door. The battering ramhad paused. “Thank the matriarchs,” he muttered. “Shall we let your friends in?”

“Can we?” she asked, brightening.

“Yes, of course. You may do what you like. You have access to the Archives and may share it with whomever you choose.” He smiled graciously and a bit of lingering fear from the shock of his appearance and transformation faded.

“Please then, let them in.”

Gilmer smiled and inclined his head. He did not move, but closed his eyes. “Followers, friends. The Archives have been entered.”

He spoke at a normal volume, but the words entered not only her ears but her mind and her consciousness. He truly sounded like a god, voice resonant and filling every inch of space inside her, until it vibrated within.

“This year only one contender managed to gain entry to the Archives. Best of luck next time, now please, go and enjoy the Rumpus.” Zeli blinked in awe at the display of power.

His voice—the audible one—quieted to a whisper. “Adia, will you please gather the tall, young Elsiran and his Lagrimari companion and escort them to the main doors?” Then he opened his eyes suddenly and smiled at her. She ducked her gaze, embarrassed at being caught staring.

In moments, the double doors rattled. They did not appear to be barred or latched. There weren’t even any door handles on this side, just smooth metal. Under their own power, or more likely Gilmer’s, the doors opened outward. Gasps sounded from those gathered on the other side.

Through the doorway, the setting sun bathed what she could see of the remaining crowd in oranges and reds. Right outside, white-clad acolytes kneeled with their heads bent. Gilmer sighedand rose, then paced over to the entry. He stood there, arms crossed, before the prostrate acolytes.

A minute later, a raven-haired female acolyte appeared before him with Varten and Lanar in tow. Gilmer bowed in thanks to her and the woman flushed scarlet. Then the god led Zeli’s companions inside and the two enormous doors closed again.

Varten stood in the entry looking up and around, jaw open, while Lanar merely glared at Gilmer. For his part, the god smiled at the Lagrimari man. “Good to see you again, old friend,” he said extending his hand for a shake.

Zeli flinched, frozen for a moment. “Old friend?” She looked from one man to the other, taking in Lanar’s pinched expression.

“Why yes,” Gilmer replied, “I am not the only one with a secret identity. Am I, Yllis?”

Lanar or Yllis or whoever he was blew out a breath and crossed his arms defensively.

Gilmer tilted his head. “Why the pseudonym? There are very few alive who would have recognized your name.”

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