“You can’t be serious,” says Pitry.
“I am quite serious. They genuinely tried to follow his edicts, no matter how bizarre. But, naturally, no one is perfect, and very few completely followed the edicts. But the edicts couldn’t be wrong—people enjoyed being told what to do. So, at some point, Kolkan decided the issue was that there wasn’t a big enough impetus to follow the edicts.” Shara lifts the top off the pot of rice. A rolling bloom of steam rises up, fogging her glasses. She steps back, sets the lid down, and polishes her glasses. “This was how the Writs of Punishments began. A living, ongoing, constantly edited document about how people should be … encouraged to follow the edicts. Over time, one sees an increasing tendency to—how shall I put this?—mar the flesh.”
“Mar?” says Mulaghesh.
“Whipping. Branding. Hobbling, blinding, and amputation for the worst offenders—striking off the right hand of a thief, and so on. Never death. Kolkan had decreed that life was sacred. Even he would not violate this proclamation. One of the most prominent punishments was called the Finger of Kolkan: a small round stone that would, when touched to flesh, grow heavier and heavier and hotter and hotter. Punishers would tie down the victims, place the Finger on their leg, or stomach, or chest, or …”
There is a squeak from Sigrud’s leather glove: his right hand is a trembling fist; his jaw is clenched around his pipe; the black knife is buried deep in the pork leg.
Shara coughs. “You get the idea,” she says. “These punishments were carried out with almost no objection. The people did not fight. They welcomed these punishments with the sober obsequiousness of the condemned.
“Over time, Kolkan’s punishments and rules became more and more severe, and odder and odder. He became fixated on flesh and desire, on sexuality and lust. He wished to wholly censor these subjects. His first method of repression may be ironically familiar to any Saypuri. For he banned any public acknowledgment of the female sex or anatomy.”
“What!” says Mulaghesh. “That’s not … That’s not like the Worldly Regulations at all! We’re trying to suppress something dangerous!”
“And to Kolkan, there was nothing more dangerous than sexuality. Saypuri historians are not sure why he opted to suppress the female sex. … It’s a highly debated point among certain specialists. But Kolkan demanded that his clerics and saints force women to completely shroud their figures in public, and to illegalize any mention of the female anatomy, sexuality, form—any of it—in public. This was referred to as the ‘Excision of Impurities.’ It led to a darkly amusing conundrum: how do you make a law outlawing saying a thing if you are not allowed to say that thing, even in the law? The lawmakers settled on the vague term ‘secret femininity,’ which can mean anything, really. So the law allowed for either mercy, or great cruelty, depending on the arbiter.”
The chill of the jail cell, the clutch of the shadows. The young boy whispering, Do not tempt me with your secret femininity!
“Things grew worse and worse. He began to insist that all his followers ‘veil their flesh’ and deny themselves all mortal pleasures: the taste of food, drink, the feeling of naked human skin, even comfortable sleep, for all of Kolkan’s followers were forced to sleep on beds of stone. Physical pleasure of any kind was not to be encouraged. And his punishments grew grotesque. Castration. Clitoridectomy. Terribly extreme amputations. And so on.
“Yet now the other Divinities began to take notice. While Divinities did have many interactions among themselves—even relationships—they were mostly happy to stay out of one another’s Divine business. But Kolkan’s new fixations began to spill over. He insisted Bulikov adopt his personal views on sexuality—homosexuality and promiscuity, for example, which were allowed under the more permissible Divinities, became illegal in Bulikov. Jukov was a particularly passionate opponent of this, but Kolkan’s perspective took root and has never left Bulikov, despite what happened later. Eventually, Jukov convinced the other Divinities to act.”
“Act how?” asks Mulaghesh. “You can’t tell me no one knows about a second war.”
“No,” says Shara. “There was no war. Because in 1442, Kolkan simply disappeared. With no explanation whatsoever.”
A pause.
“He just … disappeared?” asks Pitry.
“Yes.”
“Like with the Kaj’s weapons?” asks Mulaghesh.