He escorted me inside and told me when we were clear of the courtyard.  The temple interior was a little stuffy, but the air was clean at least.  Normally there would be flowers and incense, but the town had abandoned upkeep once the god began killing anyone that entered.  It was lavishly appointed, as all major city temples were.  He’d led me to a parlor, typically used for receiving distinguished guests that required a bit more privacy.  I sat down gratefully on the plush sofa.  The god declined to sit, instead hovering near a cabinet full of expensive liquors.  He clearly didn’t know how to receive guests.  Of course he didn’t.  Priests did that for him.

“Don’t worry about it,” I sighed.  “I don’t need anything to drink.”

He turned to face me.  He was delicately handsome, slender and seemingly frail.  His hair was pale yellow, curly and messy down to his neck.  I wasn’t surprised.  These large cities could pick and choose who became their god and since personality and memories were wiped away, they tended to choose based on aesthetics.

This particular god had been reigning for four decades, after his predecessor went… whatever happened to gods when they grew tired of this existence.  He’d been agreeable for that entire time and the city took that to mean they could do whatever they liked.

I could relate to his predicament.

“You know why I’ve been sent, of course,” I began curtly.

“Of course.”

“Why did you stop negotiating with the priests?”

He shrugged his thin shoulders lightly.

“All they had were excuses for why I should tolerate this.  At least now I got the attention of someone that can do something about it.”

He raised his head to look at me.  It had taken a lot of inner control to stop flinching when the gods did this.  It was their eyes, you see.  Their eyes are bright.  They glitter like gems - his were emeralds - and they shine with a light of their own like stars.  A god’s gaze, should it fall upon a mortal, is fatal.

Except for the Beloved.  Anointed similarly to how the gods are anointed in a ritual that stops short of full ascension.  The knife goes in next to the heart instead of into the heart.  That’s the main difference.  I admit I’d lost my composure and cursed my father’s name at that point of the ritual.  I even cursed the Queen.  She’d forgiven me for it.  My father might, if I were actually speaking to him.

“I’m very unhappy with being used as the city’s execution method,” he said severely.  “These are my people.  Do they think I enjoy killing my followers?”

“But they’re criminals.  They’re not really your followers anymore.”

He blinked at me in annoyed confusion and I sighed inwardly.  The gods might have been people at one point, but their memories and human emotions quickly faded after ascension.  They no longer thought the way we did.  If someone lived in the city’s territory, that was apparently enough for this particular god.

“I’ll ask them to stop,” I sighed.

“You’ll ask?  Are you not my envoy?  Am I not a god?”

“I think you’re underestimating my role.”

This was going to be a delicate explanation.  He frowned at me and I quietly reminded myself that he couldn’t hurt me.  Well, not directly at least.  If he tore the temple down around us I’d still be crushed under the rubble like any other mortal.

“I’m an intermediary,” I said.  “I can have protracted negotiations with you without the… adverse effects.”

Sure, the gods would tolerate wearing a blindfold for the sake of mortals, but there was nothing that could be done about the fact we weren’t meant to be exposed to so much power for very long.  A blindfold wouldn’t stop the crushing headaches, nausea, tremors, and bleeding from the eyes, nose, and ears that exposure for more than half an hour brought.  The gods tended to be very isolated, which was honestly probably better for everyone.

“And,” I continued, “I can enter the presence of a god when everything has gone wrong.”

I paused, letting my point sink in.  Things had gone wrong here.  I don’t think he understood, for his expression didn’t change, and I didn’t think he had the ability to maintain his composure under any circumstances like I did.

“So,” he said slowly, “you show up and I tell you they need to stop and you go tell the priests to stop and then…?  Nothing changes?”

Well, generally the process was more that the god continued to escalate threats - crop blight, storms, floods, and the likes - and the city council or priesthood continued to lie and bluff until the real reason for their disagreement came out.  Then I could usually suggest a compromise.

Or rather, I’d recite the compromise the Queen had decided upon in advance.  Her spy network was scarily good.

I wished I could tell the god all of this.  I could be honest with them without the consequences honesty often brought in high society.  Unfortunately, sometimes the gods lacked the awareness to not tell their priests what I’d said in private, so I had to remain guarded with them.  It disappointed me for reasons I didn’t quite understand.

“Oh, I’m sure something will change,” I promised.  “It’s just going to take a little time.  How about I tell the priests and the city steward that you’re willing to talk with me and we’ve agreed to meet tomorrow?  And… do you think you could at least allow them to clean up the courtyard?  For my sake?”

He didn’t seem to believe me that this would accomplish anything, but he agreed.  And of course he’d stay out of the courtyard.  For my sake.  He said this tenderly, his bright eyes fixed on me.  

I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.  This was excellent progress for today.  I’d only arrived in the city this morning and hadn’t had a chance to do any of the things I wanted to do.  Things like a long bath, shopping, and finding the best pastry shop in town and sampling all of their desserts.  These were the things I should be doing, if not for my father.  If not for this title and this stupid role.

I could see the Queen’s smirk in the back of my mind as I stood and made the customary farewell honorifics to a god that clearly didn’t care about rituals.  She knew I didn’t want this role.  She knew that it was only my pride that made me walk to that altar, instead of being dragged kicking and screaming as some of the smaller towns had to do with their gods.  So why did she find it so amusing when she ordered me halfway across the kingdom to play messenger like this?

Ah well.  At least now I’d done enough work to call it a day.  If I looked distressed enough and maybe faked a tear I’m sure the town steward wouldn’t complain about my seeming lack of progress.

And then… a bath.  A nap.  And so. many. desserts.