Chương 11: In My Defense

My mother's face was unreadable. My father's, on the other hand, had that worried look he always got when he sensed I was about to confess something unpleasant. He looked at my mother and I swear he suppressed a wince. Uh oh. Off to a bad start. I took another breath. Okay. Ease into it. Explain first. Make it sound reasonable. My parents are logical people, I told myself. I just have to make them understand that it was the only logical choice.

"So," I began, "I went into the place and… well, the attendants were very rude to me. Didn't say much. Just 'hands,' like I was a dog." My father nodded immediately.

"Yes, yes. I heard they get ruder every year—""Kleon," my mother said without looking at him. He immediately stopped talking. Thanks for trying, baba, I thought.

"They sat me down, the oracles started chanting, and they gestured for me to breathe the vapors. So I did. You know me. I'm cooperative." My father tilted his head, his brow furrowing as if I'd just said something crazy. I coughed into my hand.

"And then I started hearing these whispers. And they told me 'The moon watches. The forge listens.'" My mother raised a single eyebrow. I had no idea if that was a good eyebrow or a bad eyebrow. With my mother it could mean anything from mild curiosity to "start digging your own grave." I kept talking before she could say something.

"And then they said, 'Your mother speaks. Mēnē answers. Your father prays. Ambelios hears.'" The eyebrow stayed right where it was. My father nodded slowly.

"So after that, the classes appeared. [Katarologa] was at the top, but I noticed that I had been given a bunch more options. I figured the gods probably wanted me to take a look at them, so I did." Neither of them said a word, but I saw my father's eyes flick to my mother then back to me. I cleared my throat.

"Maybe I should get some water. My throat—""Continue," my mother said.

"Right. So." I swallowed.

"There was [Sangromancer], [Venefica], [Alechemene], [Daimonarch], [Weaponsmith]. Everything you could possibly not want." I turned to my mother.

"Except [Katarologa], of course. That's a great class that I would have loved to have taken." My mother's expression did not change. I gave my father an apologetic look.

"No offense of course." He put his hands up.

"None taken." I was happy that at least one of them appeared to be on my side. That gave me the confidence I needed to continue.

"But then I saw another class at the bottom of the list. One I hadn't heard of before. It was called [Gunwitch]. Now I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that sounds made up, but I can assure you it was very real."

"I wasn't thinking that it sounds made up," my father said, shaking his head.

"Great, great," I went on.

"Well, so I told myself that's nice and all, but I'm picking [Katarologa] like I told my mother. I really did." My mother remained a statue. My father was staring at me like he was watching a cart crash in slow motion.

"But then I tried to scroll away from the other one—the [Gunwitch] one—and I swear it wouldn't let me. It just stayed there. Mocking me. I even asked the oracles for help, and they just said, 'Maybe you should look again.'" This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. I thought my father's eyebrows couldn't physically climb higher, yet with every word they did.

"So I looked again," I said.

"And I told them, 'No, thank you, I'll be taking [Katarologa]'. And then the whispers said, 'We don't think this is what you want.' And I told them, 'No, that's okay, it is what I want.' And then they said, 'This class is a gift from both Mēnē and Ambelios. They'll be pretty upset if you don't pick it.'" My mother frowned. Did that mean she believed me?

"And well, I obviously didn't want to offend the gods," I continued, "but I also didn't want to offend you, mama, so I said, 'No, I'll take [Katarologa].' And then they said…" I made a little helpless gesture.

"They said, 'We will kill you if you don't take [Gunwitch].'" My father gasped.

"They threatened to kill you?"

"Yes!" I said as I slammed my hand on the table.

"And they said they would kill Meowphistopheles too! Obviously I was ready to throw down my own life for my principles, but poor Phisto never hurt anyone. It wouldn't be fair for him to suffer for my defiance." My father gasped again.

"Not the cat!" Phisto meowed from the top of the bookshelf like he'd understood what I just said.

"They threatened the cat," I said.

"I couldn't risk it. He never asked for this. Not for any of it. So yes, at that point it wasn't about me anymore." I pressed my palms to my chest and looked down at the table, slowly shaking my head.

"It was about saving an innocent soul." My mother finally spoke.

"You chose [Gunwitch]." I peeked up at her.

"I… accepted [Gunwitch]. Under duress. To protect an innocent."

"That was a brave and selfless thing to do," my father said.

"To protect Phisto like that."

"Thank—" I started, already reaching for the lifeline he was throwing me.

"It's commendable that you try to protect her, Kleon," my mother said, still not looking at him, "but you know as well as I do that no one threatened her, and no one threatened the cat." Phisto blinked at me, tail flicking like he was on her side and also didn't believe me.

"You traitor," I said, pointing at him.

"I have sacrificed myself for your life! I am a martyr!" My mother exhaled slowly.

"Give it up, Hecate." I froze, still pointing at the cat.

"I'm not angry," she said.

"If anything, I'm more upset that you felt you had to lie to me. If you can't trust me with your choices, then perhaps I have failed you as a mother. I thought [Katarologa] would be good for you. It would have made you strong. You would have been able to protect yourself. But clearly the gods had other plans." Okay, I did not see that coming.

"It is rare to be offered a class created by two gods," she continued.

"Though not unheard of. But [Gunwitch]…" She turned to my father.

"I've never heard of it before. Kleon?" He shook his head.

"No. Never." Her gaze returned to me.

"Clearly they have noticed you. They wanted to give you something suited to who you are. You've spent more hours firing your father's guns than studying the rites. If Mēnē thinks this is your path—and she even worked together with Ambelios to create it—then who am I to judge?" For a moment I just stared at her. I didn't know what to say. All day I'd been bracing for the worst—for shouting, punishment, death. Not this. Had I been wrong about her? All this time?

"... Thank you," I said finally. For the first time, my mother's expression softened, barely, but enough that I saw it.

"Thank you for telling me the truth," she said.

"But because you did not pick [Katarologa], I cannot use my experience to guide you. You chose a lonely path. No one else has walked it. There are no mentors, no peers. I just wanted you to have someone you could rely on. Someone to guide you." It hadn't occurred to me that she wanted me to pick [Katarologa] so she could help me become the best version of myself. So I'd always have somewhere to turn to if I had any questions.

I'd thought all she cared about was tradition, when really all she cared about was me all along. My mother rose from her chair.

"I must go. Menekrates will not be pleased with what transpired here. First his son was taken from him, then his pride was wounded. He will not rest until he feels whole again." She paused, then slowly exhaled through her nose.

"Pushing to have me executed for killing two of his men in my own house would be political suicide, so he won't. The same goes for your father. That means he'll turn everything he has toward you, Hecate. He'll go before the Olethepagos Council and demand your execution. He doesn't need sympathy—he has witnesses, and they'll say whatever he wants them to."

"But it was self-defense!" I said.

"Surely they'll understand that. I'm innocent. That isn't fair!" My mother shook her head.

"Nothing is ever fair. It doesn't matter that you're innocent. It never does. Menekrates will make them see what he wants them to see. They don't even have to believe him. He has three witnesses who will swear to his story. The truth won't matter, it rarely does. What matters is who controls the story, and who the judges owe their favor to." I felt the blood drain from my face. My hands went cold on the table.

"So I'm going to die. And there's nothing I can do about it?" For a moment I thought about running.

"What if I just leave? Get out of the city before they can do anything?" My mother's expression was solemn.

"If you run, they will hunt you down and kill you. Menekrates would see to it personally. Your only chance is to stay here and stand trial." She turned toward the door.

"Now I must go. I have to speak with the judges—remind them where their loyalties lie—before he gets to them first."