Tania began to tell her story.
“Thousands of children were sacrificed in my honor in Carthage. Though I knew nothing of those practices at the time, I could feel the change in my temperament. I was angry and bloodthirsty without cease. Much of my memory is shrouded in haze, and I recall only the most important events. That addiction to sacrifice turned me into a monster,” said the goddess with fire-colored hair.
“Ana already told me something about that, Tania, and I cannot judge you for such a thing,” Rodrigo said, trying to comfort her.
The Punic goddess smiled at the young tannin.
“The gods in Lel are exceedingly powerful because, for a very long time, they depended upon human sacrifice in order to live,” Anpiel said.
“Many of them, though sacrifices are no longer offered in their honor, still continue to receive power from those practices through the great Molochs that stand in Lel,” he added.
“A Moloch? A demon or something?” Rodrigo asked in confusion.
“No, it is... an enormous statue that exists in each kingdom. That statue serves as a magnet for the faith humans place in the gods, and that faith is then sent to their totemas,” Tania explained.
“The reason Tania’s and Ana’s totemas are dead is because their Molochs were destroyed when they deserted their kingdoms, so now they can rely only on whatever faith their totemas had already managed to accumulate,” Anpiel added.
“Hai, I too possess a... dead totema, Rodrigo-san,” Susanoo said.
“But... it is possible your totema is not dead, Rodrigo,” Tania said. “The way your power keeps rising so drastically makes me think it is still receiving strength from the land to which we are headed.”
Rodrigo then took the totema hanging from his neck in his hand and stared at it.
“I still do not know who exactly this totema belongs to, or whose it is, but I will protect it with my life,” he said.
“Well, that was a most enlightening discussion. I wish you fortune on your journey,” Wenabozho said, interrupting the conversation. “Unfortunately, my kingdom is a peaceful one, and my subjects are not people of war, but I am certain you shall reach your goal.”
“Please do not trouble yourself, Lord Wenabozho. We are grateful that you guided us this far,” Anpiel said.
“Though of course, if you would allow me to sit in that young lad—” Wenabozho began, only to be cut off by Tania’s emphatic, “No!”
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“Oh, well. I merely meant to say—” said the rabbit god, before departing.
After a sepulchral silence settled between both sides, Hé-no finally spoke.
“By tomorrow, soldiers from Mississippi will surely arrive here, so a long and difficult battle awaits us. We suggest that you rest and properly recover the manná you expended in battle.”
“Yes, of course,” said Anpiel, rising along with the others.
A group of women approached and showed them to a large tipi lodge where they could rest.
Inside were four mats decorated with geometric patterns, and at the center burned a tiny fire. The inside of the lodge was painted with red animal figures, and the scent of tobacco mingled with other herbs hung thick in the air, something the Iroquois considered sacred.
“I wonder... what happened to the leader I defeated,” Rodrigo asked uneasily.
“I do not doubt that they shall execute him,” Anpiel said very calmly as he sat down on one of the mats.
“And is that right? What difference is there between killing someone and what you were saying about human sacrifices?” Rodrigo asked anxiously.
“Did you notice something, Rodrigo?” Tania said. “When we arrived before Sariswera—”
“Sawiskera,” Anpiel corrected.
“Yes, thank you for humiliating me once again, Anpiel,” Tania replied irritably.
The angel laughed quietly, allowing Tania to continue.
“In any case, when we entered that enormous wooden lodge, you must have seen people bound up inside. I am certain many of them were slaves, and they were not in chains merely because... well, the man you defeated forced them into it,” Tania finished.
“These lands make extensive use of slave labor,” Anpiel said.
“But... that is wrong, is it not?” Rodrigo said. “Should we not all be equal and have the same rights?”
“In theory, yes... but life is as it is, and every people adapts to its own necessities. It is for them to change their customs, not for us to force that change upon them,” the goddess replied.
“Different strokes for different folks,” Anpiel added.
“Then there is nothing to be done?” Rodrigo asked dejectedly.
“All that remains is for us to act as rightly as we are able, and hope that such conduct may inspire future generations to change their ways,” the angel said.
“Life is wretched, but this is the same river in which we must all swim,” Tania said, lying back upon her mat and folding her hands behind her head.
“If Sawiskera should perish, then it is something thou, Rodrigo-dono, shalt simply have to accept,” Anpiel said at last.
“I know... but... I was the one who defeated him, and I could not deliver the final blow because I did not want to kill him. And now he will die because of me,” Rodrigo said gloomily.
The young man remembered the horrified expressions of the soldiers he had slaughtered in Coimbra and made a face of disgust.
“Calm yourself, Rodrigo. It was not you,” Tania said, turning toward him with a smile.
“Rodrigo-san,” Susanoo said, seated in the lotus position upon another mat, “one must accept both life and death, for they are but part of the great cycle in which we dwell. Every life shall, without exception, come at last to its appointed end.”
“Yes, I understand,” Rodrigo said, still sounding despondent, and collapsed face-first onto his mat. “I only wish there were some way to keep that wretched cycle from reaching its end in such a dreadful manner.”
That night, Rodrigo had trouble falling asleep. He had clearly heard Epona’s voice bidding him farewell. He remembered it vividly, and it filled him with dread. The thought that she might have died on the journey to the Haida lands terrified him. He wanted to speak with her, but he could not. The communication crystals could only be used to contact Palas, and vice versa.
The gods slept, but they were awakened sometime around five in the morning.
“The soldiers of Cahokia have arrived,” said a woman in Seneca to the weary gods as they stirred at her warning. Though they did not understand what she had said, they knew it meant trouble.