We have never met. Or maybe we have . . . ? The brief vision of us was extremely convincing. Gods alive, it felt so real. “Who are you?”
“I could revive your memory.” He extends his hand again, and I retreat. No more of that. He puffs out his chest, appearing even bigger. “I am Enlil, Keeper of the Living Flame.”
“You’re a . . . a . . . god.” I should have guessed. His good looks are unparalleled. No mere man could be this entrancing.
“Just so, and you are a bhuta. A chosen Virtue Guard of my father, Anu.”
I gawk at him so long I nearly forget what he said. “Yes, I’m a Burner, but that’s not why I invoked you.” I pull out my portrait of Deven. “This man is trapped in the Void. Deven Naik, a faithful soul. I need your help to bring him home.”
Enlil skinnies his eyes. “Who is this man to you?”
“Deven is the general of the imperial army.” I point to his decorated uniform jacket. I selected the portrait for this very reason. Establishing Deven’s importance to our world may persuade the fire-god to return him to us. “I would have gone after him alone, but I need a god to guide me through the Void, do I not?”
Enlil’s tone chills, a contrast to his impassioned eyes. “The demon Kur and his queen cannot harm any god, or any mortal with a god, who enters their realm. To traverse the Void without a divine guide would be imprudent.”
“Deven didn’t do anything to justify this fate. He cannot suffer an eternal death.” I maintain eye contact, afraid to blink lest Enlil disappear.
“You wish to free this man.” Enlil sounds bored with me and our conversation.
“Deven doesn’t belong there. Several moons ago, Kur dragged him through the gate for trying to save me.” I show him the portrait again. “Will you help us as you helped Inanna save her betrothed?”
The fire-god flexes his fists. “The journey to the City of the Dead is fraught with perils.”
“I would be amazed if it weren’t.”
“You are willing to risk yourself to save this mortal?” Enlil surveys my prosthesis coolly.
I boost my chin. “I risk only what he’s worth.”
“Love fortifies the heart,” he says almost sadly. The voice of the wind crying from Wolf’s Peak returns to the forefront of my mind. It was the fire-god? Enlil brushes his finger across my cheek. “I will assist you in exchange for a favor.”
“You want something from me?” I thought gods were benevolent overseers tossing out blessings like coins to beggars.
“Compensation for my aid.”
Wary of bargains, especially with a god, I stare slantwise at him. “What kind of favor?”
“We will negotiate the conditions later. If this mortal man has been in the Void as long as you say, he will not survive much longer. The evernight will gnaw him into fragments of who he was, and he will be broken, never to reassemble.”
A persistent suspicion warns me to understand his terms. “When the time comes, what will you ask of me?”
“Would knowing change your need of my assistance?” Enlil asks and awaits my reply. Knowing would not amend my reasons for coming. I sought the gods for aid, and one answered. I am already in his debt. “You need not fret, Kalinda. If we fail to free the man, you will owe me nothing.”
If we fail, I will have lost everything.
The heat from Enlil’s touch lingers on my cheek. Whatever payment he wants could not cost me more than Deven. What else could the gods desire besides increased obedience?
I measure my response so as not to insult him. “I appreciate your willingness, but I must know your conditions first.”
Enlil gazes far into my eyes, seeking something. He seems to peel back layers of me, flesh and then bone, right down to my soul. The intensity of his focus knocks something loose far down inside. My breath catches on a dig of pressure, and the sensation abates.
“On my father’s name, Great Anu of the Sky, I will require nothing that you are unable to fulfill,” Enlil promises.
A warmth starts at my toes and zips straight up my spine. No greater vow have I witnessed. No greater assurance have I received.
The gods answered my prayers. The fire-god came and offered to serve my will. This is everything I wanted. What could a god ask of me that would be worth risking this chance for?
“We have a bargain.”
“Magnificent.” Enlil extends his hand, and a spear of lightning appears in his grasp. I stop myself from backing up a step, more impressed than afraid. “I will take us to the nearest gate.”
He whistles, and a chariot of fire charges toward us, arcing across the violet sky. The whole chariot, including the horses, is made of flames and sends a trail of embers in its wake.
“Is that chariot made of fire?” Tinley asks from behind us. She has climbed the stairway by herself.
I slip on my sandals and dash to her. “How is your leg?”
She no longer wears the binding around her thigh. The puncture wound has healed closed. “Don’t ask me how,” she says.
“Ekur is a place of rejuvenation,” Enlil replies. “A haven beyond the woes and pains of the mortal realm.” Grasping his spear, he resembles the sculpture in the entry hall of the Crystal Palace.
“Is that . . . ?” Tinley’s voice trails away, her light eyes gaping. “I need to sit.” She plunks down on the temple steps and drops her head between her knees.
Enlil casts a strange look at her. “She is distressed by my presence?”
“Tinley’s a little surprised you’re real,” I say, which only befuddles him more. I explain. “The gods have been gone a long while.”
“Mortals’ memories are short.” He waves his staff as he speaks in wide, grand gestures. “How speedily they forget the gods’ greatness and mercy.”
His indignation can wait. The blazing chariot is almost here.
“Tinley has no way to get home,” I say.
Enlil whistles, and Behemoth swoops down out of nowhere. The falcon must have been perched above the clouds the whole time. The wild mahati lands by Enlil, then spreads his wings and bows to the fire-god.
“Star-Jumper will take Tinley home.” Enlil strokes Behemoth . . . Star-Jumper. The falcon preens, fluffing his red-and-gold plume. “We have been friends for decades.”
The fire chariot and horses land behind Enlil. The mahati ruffles his feathers and eyes a horse. Star-Jumper probably dines on real steeds for his meals.
Tinley rises and squares herself to the fire-god. “I won’t leave until you tell me what’s become of my grandmother.”
Enlil swings around, his countenance thoughtful. “Your grandmother . . . ? Ah, Anoush. You fret for nothing. She has returned to the Beyond.”
“Oh.” Tinley wrestles against tears.
Enlil slowly approaches her, his expression marked with consternation. “Mortals are blinded to the Beyond so they will not mourn their temporary exclusion from paradise.” His merciful tone could smooth away any care. “As a comfort, I can return your sight for a brief glimpse.”
Tinley looks up at him with needy eyes. “Would you?”
Enlil sweeps his spear above his head, and a portion of the rotunda vanishes. Through the opening, another realm appears, where stars, sun, and moon shine. Beneath them, green hills roll into the horizon.
My heart trips into a run.
A tidy grass hut with a thatch roof overlooks the greenery. A garden has been planted off to the side, alive with rows of vegetables and herbs. Deven comes out from behind the hut carrying a spade.
He is not alone.
Jaya pushes open the door of the hut and steps out, balancing a laundry basket on her hip. She holds the door open, and I exit next, hefting a second basket. Our hair hangs loose, swishing across our backs as we stride down to the creek chatting.
The sight of my best friend captivates me until our forms disappear below the rise. My gaze jumps to Deven toiling in the garden. I prepare to call to him, but Tinley speaks over me.
“Grandmother,” she whispers. I rip my attention away from Deven. Tinley’s tears flow, her expression full of wonderment. “Can you see her, Kali? She looks so young and happy.”
I stare back at my picturesque scene. “I see—”