H -70: You Are What You Choose to Be (Patreon)

“Well this seems…inappropriate,” Kaln confessed. “My first time meeting a goddess in the flesh and I’m struck by an overwhelming urge to scratch her ears. That has to be some kind of sin.”

Hii-Amat laughed brightly and leaned forward, poking him right in the forehead with her nose. A deep, tingly warmth radiated from the spot, suffusing his body with a sense of relaxation and vitality, and then she bounded off his chest and away.

Leaving him slightly winded. The goddess was heavy enough that lifting off with those paws felt like it was going to leave bruises.

“Oh, but I’m so glad you came to visit!” Hii-Amat enthused, now bounding around the room in a series of playful hops, literally bouncing off the walls every third jump or so. The light in the old temple shifted with her as if it were lit by a playful little sun. Her coat seemed to be made of all the phases of sunlight, with the blood red of descending twilight at her paws and the tips of her ears, the fierce gold of afternoon along most of her body, with sunrise orange forming the gradient between them, and the unfiltered white of high noon marking her underbelly. The glow wasn’t bright enough to make her hard to look at, but in the dark sanctuary she controlled the illumination by her mere presence. “And so, so glad to see you thriving! For a while there, Kaln, I was gravely worried about you. I see you’ve been listening to advice from those new consorts of yours! That’s good, you’d have to be an idiot to turn up your nose at such counsel. Of course, wise and learned as she might be, even Emeralaphine isn’t right all the time.”

The fox goddess came to a stop in front of him, grinning and waving her tail. “Best indeed not to leave debts unanswered, especially with the likes of gods. But between us, Kaln, there was never any debt. It’s no less than my most sacred duty to aid a traveler in distress. And though Emeralaphine may have prompted you, I know you aided my people at least in part out of your own desire to do a kindness, because you could. Let there be no accounts kept between friends!”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Kaln said, a broad smile overtaking his own face. Her cheerfulness was just infectious. Still sitting on the floor, he leaned forward. “But, seriously… Debts or not, I had to come and say thank you. You absolutely saved my ass that day, and I am more grateful than I know how to explain. Not just for my life—although, yes, I’m a fan of still being alive. But…”

He trailed off and paused, groping for words. Hii-Amat also sat down, her bushy tail still swaying slightly, but watched him in silence with a smile on her vulpine face. It was odd how legible her expressions were; Kaln had certainly never seen a fox smile, but there it was.

“Everything since then has been amazing,” he finally continued. “Not all of it good, of course—nothing’s ever going to be all good, all the time. It’s more like…like I’m only just starting to really figure out who I am. Not as a godling, but as a person. I feel more me than ever before, more…comfortable, and happy. I have a family now. And all of it, everything is because you stepped in to save me. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” she said, dipping her head once in acknowledgment. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for you, as much as I can without trespassing outside my own domain. And yes indeed, you are absolutely flourishing. That is an enormous relief, Kaln. I was really worried about you.”

“It…was a little touch and go at times,” he admitted ruefully.

“I’m afraid you don’t realize how much.” Her expression and voice both sobered, and he found himself leaning even more toward her, a prickle of unease washing across his skin. “I meant what I said, Kaln—there’s no way I could ever turn away from an innocent person in a position where I could help them. You, though, brought a very specific situation that… Well. If I were a more hardened or pragmatic person, or perhaps a different kind of deity, I might have considered turning aside.”

“I…see,” he said carefully. “Well…I was warned that gods don’t welcome competition…”

“Oh, it’s not that,” she said with a grin. “You’re certainly no threat to my people, and I’m not averse to having neighbors. If anything, I think it’s good for ancient and nigh-omnipotent fuddy-duddies to get shaken up now and again. The Nine and the Four definitely could benefit from a respectful kick in the pants, and I’ve occasionally regretted that I’m simply not the kind of person to administer one. No, Kaln, it’s not them, or me, or godhood. It’s you. I looked at you in that moment that you were on the verge of dissipating into the ether, and a lot of what I saw worried me.”

“I…have to say that’s not a reaction most people have to me,” Kaln admitted. “It’s honestly hard to think of myself as…intimidating.”

“But that’s just it,” she said quietly. “You’re such a nice boy. It was frightening.”

He honestly couldn’t come up with anything to say to that, which was a new experience. Kaln was glib enough in conversation to riposte anything sent at him. There was a weight to this exchange, though—some stakes and importance he did not understand, which prevented him from voicing one of his usual quips here. Silently, he shifted to a more comfortable sitting position and gazed attentively at the goddess before him.

The small movements of her tail made the warm light she put off shift faintly across the crumbling walls.

“Nice isn’t good,” Hii-Amat explained, solemn and intent. “Nice is…baseline. Most people who make it out of childhood without major trauma default to nice, and don’t let any moaning misanthropes tell you otherwise. Nice is the untested quality of being a person; good requires forging in the kind of fires that a lot of people don’t come through intact. Especially a lot of nice people. Especially people who are the best kind of nice, the exceptionally nice. Like you.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Both flattered and offended, here… I think I’m glimpsing the outline of what you mean, though.”

She tilted her head to one side and said in a more pensive tone, “You know, growing up the way you did, with Izayaroa’s teachings as your sole guide, is an intellectual boon, but a spiritual disadvantage. One you paid the price for.”

“What, you think the Rhiva are…spiritually lacking?”

“Oh, countless heavens, no,” the goddess chuckled. “The Rhiva have plenty of spiritual guidance. Nine whole founts of it! No, I meant you specifically—well, you and those like you, who are raised in the Regency’s care. I know you aren’t barred from temple services or anything, but be honest: your caretakers never exactly encouraged the orphans to seek truth outside the writings of the Golden Empress, did they?”

“There’s a bit of tension between the Empress and the Nine,” he said, tamping down his rising annoyance. “And yeah, consequently also between civil servants and the priesthood. I have to tell you, though, I don’t see the problem. The Empress’s guidance is the result of centuries of careful refining, distilling best practices for governance into their purest form yet possible. Even those of us who didn’t end up going into the service benefited from that. It teaches you to see the world as it is. The forces that move it… How to be a good citizen, and more importantly, the reasons for being the best citizen you can, irrespective of any religious or other platitudes.”

“You know,” she mused, “every person I’ve ever met who talked a big game about how logical they were was significantly more emotional in their conduct than the average. It makes perfect sense, if you think about it! To think is to feel—being logical means being aware enough of your feelings to control them properly, because it’s not as if you can turn them off. If you think you have it just means you’re unaware of the influence they have on you.”

“Okay, makes sense so far,” he said. “So not going to services makes you overly emotional?”

“Now you’re just being overly reductive to make fun of me,” she chided, grinning again. “Kaln, doing what’s right just because you understand why it’s right will only work when times are good. It takes real passion to keep going in spite of everything, when everything conspires to spite you. Compassion, grief, anger, love, all of them and more play a role in keeping us going, but most of all, a person has to have faith.”

“Well, not being religious hasn’t harmed me in any way that I can see,” Kaln replied, doing his utmost not to be defensive.

“I don’t think it matters that much what you have faith in,” Hii-Amat said softly. “Faith is categorically different from knowledge—it’s a belief you choose to hold because of what you gain from it, not because the facts support it. And people need that, Kaln. Life is so very uncertain. Anything and everything can be taken from you at any moment. Pushing ahead demands the ability to be irrationally certain it’s worth doing. If someone doesn’t have that…”

She paused, and Kaln was dimly aware of a faint pressure, of something resonating through the weight of divinity. The very subtle, but now that he’d felt it unmistakable, sense of a goddess conveying something important.

“Take, for example, the case of a young man raised with good values, in a purely intellectual tradition. Gifted with an innate kindness and compassion for others, and brought up to understand the reasons kindness and compassion matter, without being subjected to the irrational demands to be kind, just because some authority figure says so. It sounds unambiguously positive, put that way, doesn’t it?”

Kaln had realized where this was going, and found himself suddenly too preoccupied reeling to formulate any response. It seemed none was required, as she continued without prompting.

“What happens to that young man when everything fails and betrays him? When he is forcibly confronted with the sheer irrationality of other people, their disregard for consequences, and the fragility of all those logical systems he thought would protect him? Without some powerful imperative to do good, to do right, simply because it is right and for no external reason… It’s all too easy for someone in that position to lose themselves to hatred, to let their rage take over their minds…to devote their energies to pointless revenge instead of healing, and perhaps worst of all, to be left terribly vulnerable to the manipulations of those who know exactly how to wrap a person in that state around their fingers.”

He couldn’t even look at her, suddenly, just staring at the sand-scoured floor. Still, the light around him shifted with her silent movement, growing brighter as she drew close. Then a furry body, warmer than it ought to be, was pressed against him from behind, and her chin rested on his shoulder.

“But you did it,” Hii-Amat said more gently. “I am so, so proud of you, little brother. I was worried; it was rough there for a while. But you found your way. When it came down to it and the real test was before you, you chose love.”

“I…” Kaln looked down at his hands, flexing them in his lap. “I mean, to be honest… It wasn’t just that. Rejecting the Entity was…I mean, it was the rational thing to do. For all kinds of reasons.”

“Sure, true enough,” she said with a note of amusement. “But is that why you did it? Did you truly reason through it in that moment—were the facts and the rationale enough to give you the kind of courage that took? Or did you choose love, because it called to you more powerfully than revenge?”

He tried to draw in a breath, and it hitched in his throat. Hardly knowing what he was doing, Kaln half-turned toward her, and Hii-Amat immediately shifted along with him. He wrapped an arm around the goddess as she shifted in next to him. She was warmer than a mammal should be, but pleasantly so, and overall exactly as cuddly as she looked. Again she leaned her head against his shoulder, making the light sway about them as her tail waved in contentment.

“I hope you’re not taking this as some kind of call to foolishness,” Hii-Amat said lightly. “Obviously it’s better to think things through and act sensibly. It’s just that a big, clever brain is best used to figure out how to achieve what must be done. It takes a heart full of kindness to give your intellect tasks worth carrying out. You’re a good man, Ar-Kaln, and when you were tested, you proved it. Now you just have to keep being one.”

“I guess nothing’s ever truly set in stone, is it?” he said, leaning against her. He felt…light, now. Somewhat wrung out, but better for it.

“Life keeps moving forward,” she agreed. “That’s another task for that logical brain of yours: planning for the future. You know things are going to keep coming at you, right? How’re you doing on devising a strategy?”

“I’m…well, not,” Kaln was forced to admit, wincing. “It’s been barely any time at all, despite how much has transpired in this handful of days. I’m still getting my feet under me. I had the incredible luck to land in this dicey situation that comes with a lot of helpful powers that can keep me…relatively safe. It seems smartest to focus on myself and rely on them, to make myself ready for whatever happens next.”

“Six dragons do make a hell of an insurance policy,” she agreed. “Just don’t forget that there used to be a seventh dragon, more powerful than all the rest, and how easily he was taken out by a weird alignment of circumstances and the conniving of one outside actor.”

“Right…I’d like to think I’m not being complacent, but I can’t complain about the reminder, nonetheless,” Kaln said, frowning. “Since we’re on the subject, though… Is there anything you can tell me about the Entity? I mean… Even if you haven’t dealt with it directly, I’m sure you understand it a lot better than I ever could, just because of how above my level you are right now.”

Hii-Amat sighed, a physical act he could feel in the swell of her chest against his side, but also a metaphysical one which caused a faint flex in reality around them.

“Little brother, I want to take the opportunity to teach you a general fact about godhood, one you haven’t had cause to encounter just yet, which I hope will help keep you out of trouble in the future. The thing about gods… Well, the principle of divinity is that we exert a sort of pressure on all of existence around us. What we do imposes a shape upon creation—our attention carves lines in the sand of the cosmos, into which the water of mortal events tends to gather and flow.”

“Poetic,” Kaln said with an approving grin. “And yeah, I’ve started to notice that. The general shape of it, at least.”

“And I’ve noticed you noticing!” she said, pulling back enough to give him a vulpine grin in return. “That’s quick work, Kaln, you’re growing very well. But yes, due to this aspect of our nature, interactions between gods create…channels of fate between us, connections that cause events and mortals to flow from one to the other. You don’t exert enough divinity yourself just yet for this to cause any permanent effect, but once you cross the precipice and truly ascend, well… Get too cuddly with another god and you may find yourself forming a pantheon. Conversely, the best way to avoid the machinations of another god you want nothing to do with is simply to ignore them—and if they move at you first, use your mortals to push theirs out of your domain. Even taking defensive measures, even directly touching a mortal claimed as theirs, can be enough to form a thread of fate which will be a lot harder to break.”

She pulled free entirely, and shifted to sit in front of him again, this time much closer than before.

“So, with that explained,” Hii-Amat said seriously, “I hope you understand without taking offense why I have to refuse to help you directly in dealing with the shadow.”

“I do indeed,” Kaln said quickly. “Thank you very much for the education, and the warning. Please don’t feel any pressure, I don’t want to cause you more trouble than I have.”

He certainly understood her point of view; whether or not she might be willing to help him for his own sake, getting between him and the Entity could be inviting it to start meddling among the Hiiri, which from her perspective would be a disaster.

That revelation about godhood made him consider some other things of which he’d recently been reminded, too. Kaln couldn’t help thinking of the gods of the Evervales, studiously ignoring him—except the Jongleur, who had taken time to address him directly. Of the Nine, forcibly keeping him out, but…watching.

The implications…

“You’re sweet, and I like that about you,” Hii-Amat said, smiling again. “But don’t worry your little head about me, Kaln. I know my business—I’ve been doing it for quite a while. And with all that said, I think it’s safe enough to share a few observations with you about your shadow.”

“What makes the difference?”

“For beings like us, everything we do has some effect on the material world, even something as small as making an observation and having thoughts about it. Once you’ve done that, sharing those thoughts… Well, the effect can vary depending on who you share them with, but sometimes they’re not much greater than just thinking. I’m limited chiefly by what I can tell you that won’t change your approach too much, but only…refine some things you’ve already noticed, and likely would have come to grips with on your own.”

“I see,” he mused, frowning. There was a certain logic to it, but Kaln was going to have to spend a lot more time getting used to thinking this way before it become intuitive.

“So! With regard to your shadow: in my opinion, despite how generally shady it is in every possible sense, the thing is sincere. It is, as it told you, trying to do what’s right, what’s best for the world. It’s trying to do good. Now, in my opinion, the shadow’s idea of good is completely bonkers, but I’ve made it clear why I’m not sticking my nose into that.”

Kaln nodded.

“Let me tell you another generality about gods: just by nature of what we are, it is very easy for us to fall into self-inflicted ruts. Almost impossible not to, really. You should give some thought to what one must do about a family member who ends up locked in a destructive pattern of their own making, Kaln. Everybody who has a family needs to confront that sooner or later, after all. And that is as much as I feel I can say, without revealing new information that risks drawing me deeper in than I can afford.”

“I see,” Kaln repeated slowly. He had a feeling that vague warning was more important than he knew, more than he would know until he acquired the information that would put it in context. He couldn’t blame her for the vagueness, though, given what she’d explained. “Thank you for the insight, then. I will keep it in mind. I’m actually pretty good at thinking things through…you know, once I remember to actually do it. Sometimes it takes a little prompting, I admit.”

“Which makes it all the more important to surround yourself with people who’ll prompt you as needed,” she agreed, smiling once more. “What a good student you are, Kaln—if only every youngster who came to visit me were as eager to learn.”

“Really, people actually show up and then don’t listen to you? I would think being an actual deity would be the cure for that, at least.”

Hii-Amat laughed, rising and leaning forward to boop his nose with her own. “Oh, they mean well. I only meet people who have sought me out, after all, and they are either my own people or dedicated friends. Let me put it this way: having criticized your upbringing, I feel it’s fair to give it credit for teaching you the skill of absorbing information and putting it right to work. Many people who were not raised in a library struggle with that.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed that,” he replied solemnly.

The goddess smiled back, but the expression faded. “Take the time you need, Kaln; don’t rush into a mistake. I think you’re right to focus on yourself, and absorb the counsel of your consorts. But do keep the future in mind. You will need to learn to employ those people skills of yours from a position of power, which is…different in important ways from the manner you have done it all your life. Izayaroa and Tiavathyris can both teach you a great deal about leading others. I suggest you ask them to.”

“I don’t…I don’t think that’s really me. I’m not planning to be some kind of…ruler. I understand this whole process is part of finding out what kind of god I’m going to be, but I’m certain of that much. I don’t crave power.”

“Then you’ve chosen the most difficult possible path,” she said gravely. “There are gods who walk the world alone, but the way to get there… Well, your friend the shadow is one of those. Can you imagine what sort of path through life leads someone to become…that? And what else such a journey might do to a person?” She paused, letting that sink in for a moment, before continuing. “I don’t crave power either, little brother, but here I am. My advice to you is to think about what you do want, not what you don’t. And be prepared to wield power well, if it’s thrust upon you. You’ve got some of the best possible teachers in that art, and should take full advantage. I think you have enough of an idea of the ripples your actions have already caused to expect the general shape of what’s coming, Kaln. That’s the nature of power; it cannot be held without being used, because even its presence will influence the actions of others, and that influence is power all of its own. Wield it consciously, or be tossed around by it. Those are your options.”

“Well, that’s…horrifying,” he mumbled, lowering his eyes again. “Yeah, I see the sense of what you’re saying. I just… That’s the last thing I ever… I don’t know where to start.”

“Sure ya do!” she said cheerfully, padding back to his side and bumping into him affectionately. “You know how to handle an enormous task. Break it down into as many smaller ones as needed. Do the steps one at a time.”

“The steps, huh,” he murmured, absently leaning against her in turn.

“I’ll give you some hints there, too,” she said. “There are two moments you should watch for, Kaln, which will come sooner than you think. One is the first time people look to you as a leader, willingly giving up their own agency to you, to exchange the burden of taking action for the comfort of knowing someone more powerful is handling it. The other is the first moment you find those who opposed you defeated, broken at your feet, helpless and at your mercy.”

Hii-Amat drew away again, stepping back in front to look him seriously in the eye.

“There’s nothing that can truly prepare you for those moments, Kaln. The things you will feel when they come will change you. Even forewarning can only do so much. Just remember this when you find yourself in that situation: you are who you choose to be. Circumstances flow like water, people come and go, your own emotions are tools that serve you. Remember who you are, and where you want to go. Remember them especially hard in those moments when you’re caught in the grip of something powerful enough to change the entire course before you.”

Kaln nodded deeply, solemnly. “I will. Thank you, Hii-Amat. I’ll remember everything you told me. Seriously, I really appreciate you being so willing to…indulge me like this.”

“I told you already, little brother: no debts between us,” she chided gently, grinning once more. “No more than you demanded payment from my people for bringing them meat and friendship. Travelers along the path help each other, that’s all. What kind of awful world would it be if they didn’t?”

He smiled back, nodding again. “I’ll remember that, too. I know we’re in a, uh, sort of unbalanced position, but… Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Why, yes there is!” she said, bouncing in place and waving her tail. “You come visit, you hear? We’re neighbors now, and it’s a lot more complicated for me to come over—you live in the territory of some who wouldn’t welcome my presence. I want to hear all about how your family is coming along!”

Kaln couldn’t help laughing along, despite the weight of it all, the revelations swirling in his head. He reached out and boldly ruffled the goddess’s ears.

“You got it. That much I can promise.”