In the Shadow of the Gods Read Online Free

right now, of course, but once you move up . . . well, you learn to place your trust carefully and keep your back to the wall. Anyway, you’ll rise faster than you think. Just scribble and count for a while, and know that it’s all toward the greater purpose.”
    â€œThe greater purpose,” he mocked, but the whispering was too distracting to formulate more of an insult.
    Saval grinned, a feral gleam in his eyes. One had to be crazy, Joros supposed, to be able to laugh inside Mount Raturo. “Oh, goodness me, did I forget to mention that? Oh yes, littlest brother, there is a greater purpose. The greatest of purposes.” He flipped open the cover of the giant ledger, crooked a finger beckoningly at Joros. “It’s written here, a constant reminder so you know what you’re working toward. So you know what machine you’re propelling, little cog.” His finger tapped against the page, and Joros leaned over, squinting to read in the pale light.
    The page was artfully illuminated, a colorful depiction of Sororra and Fratarro. In every other portrayal of the Twins, they were either falling, cast from the heavens by their holy Parentsfor the sin of wanting more to their lives than they had been given, or wrapped in chains, bound in a place deep beneath the earth. This, though, showed them free, broken chains dangling from their wrists and ankles, Sororra swallowing the Mother’s sun, Fratarro holding the Parents by their throats. And in bold, flowing letters across the top of the page was written Freeing the Bound Gods .
    Joros looked up at Saval, frowning. “You act as though this is some great revelation. They’ve been chanting this at me since I got to the top of Mount Raturo. The Bound Gods are a . . . a symbol—” Gods, his head hurt, and that damned whispering. “Something you can shout about to keep the sheep in line. They’re not real.”
    â€œOh littlest brother, oh tiny cog, you have so much to learn.” Saval turned and walked from the room, back into the antechamber and straight to the stone slab; Joros remained in his new chamber, frowning down at the ice candle. It wasn’t the candle flame whispering, he could see that now, but try as he might, he couldn’t find the source. His attention was pulled away by a new sound, low and grating, and he turned to watch Septeiro in the antechamber.
    The man had his hands pressed against the stone block, and Joros soon saw it wasn’t a solid mass of stone, but a box. The top slid effortlessly aside, seemed to lower itself gently to the floor, and the whispering grew louder, fiercer, a babbling of soft, desperate voices. Saval smiled, that crazy light in his eyes again. Joros’s head felt like it was about to split, and he thought, There really is no dealing with fanatics.
    â€œCome, brother,” Saval murmured, his voice carryingunder the whispers, eyes fixed on whatever was in the box. “Come see the glory entrusted to the Ventallo.”
    â€œThis is ridiculous,” Joros said, but the voices that were just beyond hearing were pulling at him, the throbbing in his skull pulsing in time with the incomprehensible words. His feet moved, and he stood next to Saval, and he looked down into the box.
    Charred black and as long as the box, longer than a man, it was hard to recognize. But there was an ankle, there the smooth curve of muscle, there a toe the size of his hand. A leg. And the raw, rent flesh where it had been torn brutally away. The voices coalesced, crescendoed, broke over Joros in a single wave that commanded in a voice deep and desperate and lonely, Find me.
    Into the silence that left Joros reeling, Saval whispered, “And thus did Fratarro shatter upon the bones of the earth . . .”
    â€œ. . . his limbs flung to the far horizons,” Joros finished, the words learned so long ago, a child’s parable.
    â€œNot so far after all,” Saval said, smiling