“Wait, wait,” says Mulaghesh. “So everyone’s known for all these years that one of the Divinities might still exist? I thought the Kaj killed all of them!”
“Yes, but which ones have you been told he killed, specifically? In specific instances?” Shara counts off on her fingers: “Voortya he killed in Saypur, in the Night of the Red Sands. Taalhavras and Ahanas he killed when his army first landed on the Continent’s shore. And Jukov he killed in Bulikov just after capturing it. When, exactly, have you been told the definitive account of the assassination of Olvos? Or Kolkan, for that matter.”
“But … But everyone agrees history grew murky after the Kaj invaded,” says Mulaghesh. “No one’s entirely sure what happened. He could have killed Olvos or, or Kolkan then, right?”
“Somewhat true. We only know what the scraps of history tell us. We know the Kaj used his weapon on the Divinities—whatever it was—and they vanished. But that does not necessarily mean they are gone from the present altogether. Some miracles still work. The Divine have not completely left the Continent, despite our efforts and wishes. Our texts are even inaccurate about how the Kaj killed the ones we know he killed—Jukov, for example, he killed three years after capturing Bulikov, something that is never mentioned in conventional texts.”
“I didn’t know that,” says Pitry. “I thought Jukov was executed in the Great Purge. That’s what they taught us in school.”
“That is because Jukov’s evasion is not a popular subject,” says Shara. “It makes the Kaj look weak. Jukov didn’t attack or confront the Kaj’s forces—he only hid from them. Yet the Kaj moved on, or perhaps he knew that sometimes you must defeat your enemy’s spirit before you can defeat their body. Which was why he started the Purge.”
Shara crushes garlic with her knife, dices it, and tosses it in with the onions. “The Great Purge was not the righteous act that’s often depicted in Saypuri history books. The Kaj did not use his weaponry to bloodlessly eliminate all the Divine creatures of the Continent at once. Nor did he drive them back into heaven, or into the seas.”
“Then what?” says Pitry.
“They were dragged from their homes, into the streets,” says Shara. She turns the knife over in her hands. The handle is slick and oily. “They were corralled and driven like animals, and slaughtered much in the same way. Unlike their creators, minor Divine creatures may be killed via conventional means.” Sigrud grins nastily, relishing some vicious, treasured memory. “Bulikov, for example, is host to several mass graves,” continues Shara. “Who knows what sort of bones we would find if we dug them up? The delicate wings of a gityr, Ahanas’s winged ponies? The finger bones of a hovtarik, the twenty-fingered harpist from the courts of Taalhavras? The marred bones of a mhovost, the knuckle-men, Jukov’s pet horror? Presuming, of course, that the Kaj and his army did not destroy them beyond recognition … which, quite frankly, I think is probably the case. Perhaps they felt justified. Had not every Saypuri lived their lives under the boot heel of these creatures? Were they not dangerous monsters? But one soldier wrote of screams of pain coming from the fires, and how some of these creatures had the appearance and demeanor of children, and begged for mercy. Of which they received none.”
Mulaghesh is silent; her cigarillo’s smoke has dwindled to a slow bleed. Sigrud runs his finger along the blade of his black knife.
Shara checks the rice, which has been soaking in chicken broth, and the sauce, which is dark and creamy. This she sniffs, and adds a touch of garlic. “When the Purge came to an end, Jukov finally emerged. He had been hiding, it is said, in a pane of glass in a window—exactly what this means, I can’t say. Again, I only know what history tells us. Jukov sent word to the Kaj directly, asking him to meet. Alone. To the surprise of his lieutenants, the Kaj agreed. But perhaps the Kaj had some foresight, for when he met the last Divinity, it is recorded he saw that Jukov was no threat: the Divinity was weeping uncontrollably, distraught over the death and mayhem that had been wreaked upon the Continent.”
“He should have come to Saypur, then,” says Mulaghesh bitterly. “Then he would have been prepared for such misery.”