Konn furnished Sarka with another cup of his bitter brew and then poured a cup for himself. She took a sip. The drink was warming, at least.

"I was hoping you would come back to the temple refreshed, but I think your impromptu introduction to my lord has ruined the restorative effects of the bath," Konn said.

"How does a god lose his head?" Sarka asked.

Konn chuckled. "An interesting question. I'm afraid the answer is a story."

Sarka raised her brows, inviting him to continue.

The priest crossed the room toward his small writing desk. There lay a book Sarka had not noticed before; it was bound in plain leather and stamped with four letters: ATAI.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Lord Atai's God-Song."

"God-Song?"

Konn looked up at Sarka. "His God-Song. His Scripture." When she gave no sign of recognition, he smiled and assumed the patient tone of a teacher. "A very important book. Each god has one. It is one of the occupations of his priests to keep it. It must be renewed-copied and sanctified-every so often. A god cannot live without such a book. It tells the story of his life and his purviews, and it grants him his powers. The work of renewing Lord Atai's God-Song is long overdue."

"Why?"

"Well, child, as you no doubt have noticed, I am the only priest in his temple. My predecessor died three years ago. It falls to me to copy the God-Song and to tend to all other mortal matters here. I have made a start on the renewal, but it takes time. The other concern is that transcribing a God-Song is costly-buying the paper, the materials for the binding-and it takes months, even years, to save up the coin from the alms our parishioners grant us. It may not surprise you to know that Lord Atai is not the patron of the wealthy. Those folk tend to congregate at Lady Deyna's feet."

"So, that book tells the story of how Lord Atai lost his head."

"It does." Konn came back to the table and sat down, cradling the book in his hands. He opened the cover and turned a couple of pages, his expression touched with the warmth of familiarity and affection. "You see, in the beginning, Atai was a whole man like any other man. He was a healer in the army of Galdren at the time of the Setting Sun War. In that age, Yhva had settled a portion of our continent by raiding and colonizing the settlements there, blazing their golden banners and seeking conquest-"

"Wait," Sarka said. "He's not a man, he's a god. Why does it say he's a man?"

"He was a man." Konn gave Sarka a searching look. "All gods begin as humans, my dear girl. Gods are not born. They are made."

Sarka struggled for a moment with Konn's mysterious response, but rather than puzzle through it, she gestured for him to go on.

"...seeking conquest. As they sought to gain more ground, the people of Galdren rose up against them.

"Leading the armies was Daros, the God of Valor who, with his sword Talastar, cut the life-strings of a dozen enemies with every strike. Behind him came a hundred battalions of Galdrenite men from all reaches of the land, each soul seeking to rid the shores of the Yhvai invaders. Last of all came Atai and his fellow healers, working to bind the wounds of the fallen.

"They fought bravely, gaining ground and losing ground over the span of a summer, an autumn, a winter, a spring: a whole, bitter year they fought, and more. Atai healed the wounded brought to him, and when the flames of battle burned high and hot, he went out into the bloody fields himself.

"On one such day, Atai came upon K'gar, a dying Yhvai soldier. Atai knew K'gar's life was forfeit with one look at him; the soldier had been struck a mortal blow through the belly. He sat propped on the spear that had killed him, gasping for water with blood streaming from his lips.

"In his compassion, Atai could not bear to see a man suffer so. He asked the dying man his name, gave him to drink of the waters of mercy, and, finally, he pulled K'gar off of the spear so the blood would freely flow. He laid K'gar down in the churned red mud and cradled his head while he died.

"Daros came upon him there just as the light faded from the dying man's eyes.

"'Brother,' said Daros, the Lord of War, 'what have you done?'"

"'I have given mercy to a man,'" said Atai.

"But upon discovering that Atai had extended the hand of mercy to an enemy soldier, Daros raised his sword Talastar and struck off gentle Atai's head."

Konn turned a page of the book for the first time. He stroked the page with a loving hand. He had not been reading; he had been reciting the story by heart. "And that is why, to this day, Atai must carry his head: for his treacherous mercy. He is the patron of the miserable, the hopeless, and those who are lost in a land of strangers. He was installed on his humble throne of power by the helpers and handmaidens that served him during the war. It was they who first sang his God-Song."

Sarka looked down into her cup, rolling her shoulders against the gooseflesh that prickled down her spine. "Is that a true story?" she asked.

"None was ever truer," said Konn with a smile. "Our gods have histories, Sarka, just as we do. They are shaped by their stories. I find it comforting, don't you?"

She did not know whether it was comforting or chilling to think of Atai as a man. She reflected on her first meeting with the god. Without thinking, she said, "The Beloved who followed me here...he told me of Atai on my first night in Galdren. Said his temple would be a place I might stay. I suppose that means I am hopeless."

Konn was silent.

"I didn't want to tell anyone about him-the Beloved. But you knew, anyway. Will Atai really protect me?"

"He will. He and the other gods of Galdren stood against Kogoren when the world she ruled fell to pieces, Sarka. They have no dominion in that place, but they joined together and bound her to her land. She cannot step foot off of her continent."

"But her Beloved can."

"Yes. Her servants are unbound. But the Beloved have always crossed their borders only to keep Kogoren's people in the ashlands. They have never before reached so far as to harm the children of another god."

"They killed Etza and her crew. They drove them to their deaths. Where was your Atai then?"

"The Annari are not people of Galdren," Konn said with a sigh. "They follow the Crescent God and his sister. The Annari would not have called upon Lord Atai for aid."

"Then where were their gods?"

Konn shook his head. "I do not know, Sarka. The Annari keep to their own; I know enough about the other gods of Galdren, but precious little about the gods of the roaming folk. Besides, not all of the gods intervene in the affairs of their children...as you well know."

Sarka set her cup of coffee aside. "As you know, too," she said, fixing him with her stare. "Tell me your story."

"If I do, will you tell me yours?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

Konn smiled. "Did you know any priests in Kogoren, child?"

Sarka shook her head. "I didn't. They're all dead. Their temple was high on the mountain that exploded in the Cataclysm-that's what people say. The Queen's Crest, I think it was called."

A shadow passed over Konn's face. He was quiet for a moment, as if his mind were far away. "She used to walk among the people, you know, just as the gods of Galdren do. She kept them well. She blessed them. She was a demanding ruler, more than any other god in this world. Unwavering obedience. Sacrifice."

"The Beloved."

Konn nodded. "Yes; there was an annual sacrifice, and from it came the Beloved. And she would have her due in riches, too. Portions of the harvest. Gold and jewels. And the heads of criminals and traitors were hers, too. The yearly sacrifice of those young men, though...that was the harshest of her demands."

Sarka watched Konn's face closely. "You were pious."

He did not respond right away. Instead, he got up, shuffled to the pot of coffee warming near the fire, and refreshed his cup. He raised the pot in question, but Sarka shook her head. As he set the pot back down, Konn said, "I was a priest of Kogoren."

A chill swept over Sarka's shoulders like the touch of ghostly hands. Konn seemed to see the fear on her face, because he smiled at her, his expression as calm and benevolent as ever, and said, "Calm down, child. I left that world behind, as you did."

"That's how you knew the Beloved came after me-because you ran away, too. How did you-?"

"No, no. It's not like that." Konn settled back into his seat and frowned reflectively into his cup. "I escaped long before you did, Sarka, and by accident. I think I escaped the reach of her curses when I did."

"Accident."

"Yes. I would be lying if I said I was not grateful for how chance befell me." Konn drew a breath and let it out in a sigh. "You see, we-a few of my fellow priests and I-had left the Queen's Crest to collect the boy to whom the augers had led us. The yearly sacrifice. It was a lad from the northern reaches of the continent. When my brothers went to collect him, though, he was not there waiting, as he should have been.

"It was unprecedented. We learned he had run away. There was a girl, you see, and probably a dozen other reasons he did not wish to turn his life over to the goddess. But he was the first who had ever run.

"We pursued him. A few of my fellow priests were searching the coastal towns, and we suspected he had absconded with his lover, seeking to escape the continent on a ship. He could never stay in Kogoren and live, not when he had been marked as the Lady's bridegroom. As my brothers searched through the taverns and stores along the waterfront, I began to ask for the young couple along the docks, begging and bribing the captains to let me board their ships so I could search through their holds and their cabins. I was on one of those ships, belowdecks, when I heard the screaming...

"When I came back onto the deck, I saw gouts of fire bursting from the earth. Parts of the town were burning. And people were burning, too. Although I could not see the Queen's Crest from where I was-it was far, far away-I saw smoke rising into the sky from the direction where it lay. At first, I tried to run back down the planks, but some of the crew held me back. They tore down the gangplank to keep us all on board. I was petrified. I couldn't think what to do. I was praying to the Queen not to do as she'd already done. As I watched, the crew raised the sails, and then we were gliding away from the shore. I was too afraid of going back to leap into the sea and swim home."

Sarka stared at Konn in horrified silence, enraptured by his first-hand account of the Cataclysm. She had heard fragments of the story from others, of course, including her mother. But Konn had been a priest. His sorrow, guilt, and regret were clear in his face.

"I'm a traitor, you see." Konn smiled again. He was a man who smiled often. This time, though, his expression was shadowed with shame. "I was afraid of going back to face Kogoren's wrath at my failure. At our failure. I knew those of my brothers who had come with me must have died...I stood on the deck and let the ship carry me away. It took me first to Maidenport, and I stayed there a while, a beggar. Then I found work as a scribe for a merchant, and I traveled with him to Deynaport. And here I am. Lord Atai has room in his heart for all the world's wretched and broken things...even turncoat priests."

Sarka said, "You could not have done anything else."

"I should have. My faith was tested, and I failed. I seek redemption here at the feet of another god, and I still feel the shame of it. More painful still than my shameful betrayal of my queen is the betrayal of my people. They live in misery. They suffer. All because we could not find a stripling boy."

"You're saying you wish you had found him? You wish you had killed him?"

"It was the way of things. It placated Kogoren and ensured our survival. There was no other way. Besides...the Beloved never die."

Sarka pushed back from the table and stood, the legs of her chair screeching against the floorboards. "You speak in defense of a tyrant. No goddess deserving of love and devotion would demand the sacrifice of a frightened boy. Your god here seems thrice the god Kogoren could ever have been."

Konn raised a hand, gently silencing her. "I've told you my story; let us set aside this conversation. Soon, you must tell me yours." He stood, his old knees cracking as he did. "I must go to attend my lord in the temple. The beds will need to be made up...perhaps you would be so kind?"