“Many years ago there was a kingdom not unlike those familiar to history. In one of its greater temples, there was a junior priest,” Rin began in a theatrical voice.
“Where was it? What was his name?” Daryl asked.
“Nowhere and nobody. Now shut the hell up; you interrupted my telling,” Rin grumbled. She relented a bit. “The name of the kingdom has been lost, but the priest’s name was something like Amon.”
She supposed it would do as well as any other name. Returning to her wistfully dramatic tone, Rin continued. “Anyway, this Amon showed no interest in political advancement and was equally indifferent to his priestly duties. As a result, he was little regarded by his colleagues. He did have one great passion, however. He loved to craft things.”
“Why are you speaking in such a weird way? I thought you never told this before. It sounds rehearsed.”
“That’s the voice people hear right before I kill them. That’s what they say too. Now do you want to hear this or not? I’ll tell it however I goddamn please. So shut the fuck up and listen.” Rin gave him a fierce look, and he said nothing.
She sighed. It was too late. She had allowed him to become too familiar. Well, it was of no consequence. She could kill him whenever he became enough of a nuisance. In the meantime, she just wanted to get this over with before she lost her train of thought. Apparently, it was too late for that as well.
“Where was I?” Rin asked after a moment.
“Guy likes to craft stuff.”
Was that a smirk on Daryl’s face? Rin restrained herself from kicking him in the nuts, took a deep breath, and regained her composure. Returning to her storytelling voice, she continued.
“In another life he would have been a master craftsman or an artist, great or unknown. As it was, he had few outlets for his passion. Thoroughly ignored by most and consigned to a life of mediocrity, Amon’s lot did have one saving grace.”
“For reasons nobody knew, the High Priest had befriended him. If one unloved must choose a friend, it is best to look neither below nor above their station. Otherwise such friendship will draw disdain or jealousy, and this indeed was the case.”
“There was much speculation about the High Priest’s motives, and the gossip inevitably turned to sex. Maybe they were lovers and maybe they weren’t. It would have been an inexpedient choice for Amon, if it was a choice.”
“In most regards, the High Priest’s affection brought him little good and much ill. The man was busy and aloof, and had little time for such things. Worse, politics and propriety made any overt show of favor inadvisable. But he offered advice when needed, and did what little he could of a more practical nature. Most of all, he recognized the young man’s artistic talent and encouraged it.”
“As was to be expected, the High Priest was learned and well-connected. He directed his young friend to such materials as would advance the boy’s craft. Though Amon proved utterly undistinguished at his sacred profession, he soon became conversant with certain narrowly proscribed ephemera.”
“This only served to fan resentment. His colleagues viewed him as an indolent fool whose interests bordered on heresy. Shortcomings which would have been fatal in others were allowed him by the High Priest. Amon neither abused his circumstance nor acted with arrogance, but this weakened his position rather than strengthened it. He would have been better served currying favor with his peers or threatening them. Instead, he found himself reviled but not feared or respected.”
“Of course, such a situation could not persist. Although Amon remained oblivious to it in his humble station, discontent among the clergy rose to a fever pitch. At the behest of several senior priests, the royal family finally interceded, imploring the High Priest to restore tranquility.”
“Whether from real affection or some other motive, the man did not abandon Amon to the wolves. It certainly would have been more convenient to do so. The boy would have been treated with contempt and severity, and likely would have suffered a fatal accident of some sort. At the very least, he would have ended in obscurity. But that was not to be his fate. Instead, the High Priest deftly solved the problem in a manner beyond reproach.”
“He assigned Amon a single task, an impossible task, but one to which he honorably could devote an entire lifetime. Moreover, it was a prospect singularly attractive to the King. Amon was to craft a device which would make men immortal. It was a pursuit as old as mankind, when one primitive saw another die and decided he didn’t want the same to happen to him.”
“Modern theologies take a dim view of such things, but older religions either embraced the idea or considered it a harmless folly. And what monarch was not greedy for eternal life? This said, the King was no fool with his pocketbook. A petition from an unknown alchemist would have met with derision, or worse. There were countless charlatans claiming to be within reach of immortality. But the earnest entreaty of the High Priest was a different matter entirely.”
“Whether the King really believed in the effort or simply was doing a favor for the High Priest, he did not scorn the request. Besides, it never was unwise to cultivate such a man’s gratitude. A permanent sinecure was obtained for Amon, with costs divided between the throne and temple.”
“Most who found themselves thus situated would have embraced their fortune and been content, secure in a life of ease. If deluded by ambition, they still would have lacked the talent to accomplish anything meaningful. The story would have ended with another failure in a world filled with them. Or more precisely, there would be no story and certainly no one to tell it. There would be no ill to remedy and no me to remedy it.”
“To the world’s great sorrow (and certainly Amon’s), he was neither unambitious nor untalented. In all probability, even the High Priest didn’t expect him to take the role seriously. But whether from a misguided work ethic or some hidden genius, he did take it seriously. He knew one and only one truth: that he would craft permanence. The bells of Gion Shoja never would ring for him.”
“Gion what?”
Rin shook her head. “It’s from a book. You should try reading one. Of course, this was long before the bells or temple even existed. But you get the idea. Or, I guess you don’t.”
She continued after a brief pause in honor of Daryl’s apparent illiteracy.
“For years he sought a means, employing every known device and quite a few of his own invention. It slowly dawned on him that such a thing could not be accomplished by man unaided. This was a correct understanding. For the first time since his investiture, he remembered the color of his cloth and did what priests do. He prayed. He prayed in all the languages he knew and to all the gods he knew.”
“So how did he finally do it?” Daryl blurted out.
“He spoke to the gods, as do many people. The difference in his case was that they spoke back. It never is a good thing when the gods speak to you.” Rin paused in thought.
“It means you’re crazy,” Daryl noted.
For this, he received a disapproving look from Rin. “No, you’re crazy if you want them to speak to you.” After a moment’s reflection, she continued.
“But he was not crazy. Or, not entirely so. He had been granted knowledge which could come from nowhere else. Man cannot lift himself. It is an impossibility.”
“Impossibility is in the eye of the beholder,” Daryl suggested.
For a moment this impressed Rin, until she realized he had parroted one of her own sayings. Was it deference or mockery? At least he had been paying attention. She smiled.
“Indeed, but not as you imagine.”
“It never seems to be,” Daryl lamented. Before Rin could summon some snide retort, he quickly followed up.
“So what did he make?”
Rin frowned. “I can see we need to make a little detour. What did you do just now?”
“Interrupt?”
Rin clapped her hands together. “Very good. And are interruptions good or bad?”
“Bad.”
“I’ve tolerated quite a few interruptions so far, but that doesn’t mean I will continue to. What did I say would happen if you interrupted?”
Daryl rolled his eyes, and she had to admit he was getting better at it. “Some sort of horrible death,” he replied.
Rin smiled. “Just so. Now that we’ve settled that, would you really like to know what Amon made?”
“That’s why I …” Daryl began, but thought better of it. “Yes.”
“Well, you won’t. Even if I knew all the details — which I do not — I wouldn’t tell them to you. And if I told them to you, I would lie. And if I didn’t lie, you still wouldn’t understand because you lack the vast edifice of necessary background knowledge.”
She raised her hand to forestall Daryl’s brewing complaint. “I tell you what. I’ll describe the basics to you later. You won’t understand, but you’ll think you do. That will be best for both of us. You’ll imagine you know something, and I’ll get some peace and quiet.”
Rin cleared her throat.
“Once he had been imbued with the necessary skill, Amon crafted his first device. It was a primitive prototype, and he probably understood this. He gave it to one of the senior priests, a man who particularly detested him, supposedly to earn his good will. The recipient went mad and took his own life.”
“Later versions grew more refined, ingenious, and unimpeachable. They were bestowed from love, for advantage, or sometimes for money. Cleverly flawed ones were given to those he would ensnare. Each creation was custom-made for its purpose, and each served only its owner. Once they left Amon’s hands he retained no power over them. Nor could he subsequently modify or withdraw them, something he surely had occasion to regret. Of course, all this was not known until later.”
“Amon’s ascent was stunning, though few knew its true cause. Each recipient was sworn to secrecy, and they assiduously kept that oath. The newly-minted immortals were not eager to add to their numbers and dilute their advantage. Nor did they wish to alienate the one man who could bestow such a gift on their own loved ones. Many believed he could recall the gift, and it is possible he encouraged that belief. Rumor spread that Amon was a powerful sorcerer, but his doings remained shrouded in mystery.”
“Did they try to burn him?” Daryl asked.
Rin looked at him with concern. “What? Why would they burn him? He was a sorcerer. Who the hell would want to burn somebody who actually could do something useful? Do you mean his enemies?”
“Well, you know, like the Church.”
“They’re idiots. Always have been. Look, if you’re scrambling around to build things out of stone and wood and somebody can offer a magic, any magic, you take it. You don’t ask why, you don’t ask how, you just take the goddamn magic and use it. And you certainly don’t burn him.” She paused for a few moments. “What sort of idiot would burn him?”
Rin sighed. “Though I do know what you mean. I’ve had a few dealings with the Church over the centuries. They tried to burn me at least three times.”
“How old are you?” Daryl’s voice was laced with uncertainty.
Rin twisted her face like a bashful girl. “Oh, you know better than to ask that.”
“Fine.” he grumbled, obviously disappointed. Had he really expected an answer? Surely he knew her better than that by now, or was he hoping to trip her up? Rin wondered whether a more painful lesson was necessary. Instead, she gave him a coquettish smile and continued.
“Now that the device had been tested, Amon dutifully decided to offer it to the King. As it happened, the King was away at that moment, and his son was in the audience chamber dealing with court business. Impatient with excitement, Amon brought the matter to the Prince’s attention. It was a naive and fatal mistake. The last thing the Prince wanted was an immortal father.”
“At first, he didn’t take Amon seriously. Yes, yes, the young man wished to prove his worth and keep his position. Didn’t he know that it was unnecessary? He should just accept his good fortune … quietly. But then Amon demonstrated on himself. The Prince appeared terrified, a natural reaction.”
“However, he soon recovered his poise and promised to send word to the King. He understood that direct threats would mean nothing to an immortal, but he had to move quickly. Once his father returned, the situation would be irredeemable. There were two choices, and he picked the obvious one. Killing the King on such short notice would be fraught with peril and wouldn’t even ensure his own immortality. Instead, he took Amon’s family hostage.”
“It is unclear why Amon didn’t make his family immortal right away. Maybe he wished to test early versions of the device on people he did not care about. Even though his knowledge came from the gods, skill and practice were required to employ it. Moreover, the knowledge itself may have arrived piecemeal rather than all at once. Haste could have eternal ramifications for those he loved, though he perhaps failed to appreciate that delay could too. No doubt, he had a list of recipients he planned to work through once the device was perfected.”
“By the time he drew the notice of the Prince, Amon had refined the device enough to begin tackling that list. He made himself immortal first, as prudence demanded. He had to protect himself, or others on the list would be deprived of immortality by his own death. Loyalty demanded that the King be next. Others such as Amon’s family and the High Priest probably were on the list as well, though this is not certain. It is possible that he had little regard for his family and merely used them as justification for his subsequent conduct.”
“When the Prince called on Amon in his chamber, the priest was surprised. This quickly turned to dismay, and he realized his mistake. There was no choice, and he promised to do the Prince’s bidding. The King would know nothing, while the Prince would become immortal. And immortal he did become. Just not the way he had hoped.”
“Amon explained that each device must be crafted for a particular person, and the Prince’s would take some time. He also promised to destroy the one crafted for the King. He used that time to good effect.”
“First he recruited the High Priest, promising him immortality. This gave him entree to the nobility. Most important, he learned that the Prince already had murdered his family. Whether this was from malice or accidental is unclear, but it certainly simplified things.”
“As promised, Amon crafted the Prince a device. But it was a flawed one, and the man fell into torment. The King perished around that time as well. Through a series of deceptions, Amon destroyed many of the leading nobles. The kingdom quickly fell into disarray. Though unprecedented, the young boy — now a young man — was positioned to become King.”
“To do so, he needed to bribe the vizier and generals. Fortunately, he had the perfect means. However, those men were not to be fooled, especially after learning the Prince’s fate. They arranged for Amon’s succession to depend on their continued good health.”
“What if it had a timer?” Daryl suggested.
It took a moment for Rin to figure out what he meant. “There was no reason to fear that Amon could craft a device which only would become accursed after some time. If he did, I’ve never heard of it. I doubt it could be done, for various reasons. Though … maybe one could imagine circumstances in which a cursed protection would be triggered by something later.”
She thought about it for a few seconds, and shrugged. “Maybe it’s possible, but apparently they didn’t worry about it. Those sort of people were men of action, and it is not possible to be a man of action if you try to anticipate every risk.”
“Once their business had been transacted, little stood between Amon and the throne. Only one minor matter remained.”
“The High Priest, Amon’s steadfast friend, had grown odious to the vizier and other powerful men for entirely unrelated reasons. As part of the cost of his throne, Amon was forced to countenance his dismissal. He did not fight this, but is rumored secretly to have made the man immortal before the vizier could assassinate him. No doubt they quietly remained friends. With that, Amon became King.”
“It seems that Amon’s ambition had lain dormant, a sleeping dragon which, once awakened, threatened to consume all around him. He conquered neighboring kingdoms with ease, and soon held a great territory beneath his sway. But something was missing.”
“A King is no King without a Queen, and no tale would be complete without an unsurpassed beauty and the arduous struggle to win her. Such a quest is essential to this story too, though the details are not. Suffice to say that the King discovered such a woman and won her hand. Two years after taking the throne, he had an incomparable Queen by his side. Nor did he forget the gods, and remained pious to the end.”
“I thought you said he became immortal. If he’s immortal, there can’t be an end,” objected Daryl.
Rin laughed. “He thought so too. But no, the story does not end there either. Am I allowed to take a dramatic pause? Cut a girl some slack.”
She took a sip of water.
I wonder what happened to the members of the Church who tried to burn Rin at the stake. You'd think failing to do that once would be enough to put off subsequent attempts....