Eirin lies on a bed of flowers, half smiling, uniform scrubbed of impurity, eyes closed.  Eyes closed.  Shaltet turns to the waiting procession.  "His eyes should be open.  This is the old way."

"Forgive us, Sovereign.  We did not mean to offend," says the minister, kneeling, head bowed.  Like she's about to be executed.

"I'm not angry."  He touches Eirin's face, more peaceful now than it ever was in life.  "They're only open when we die away from home.  If we can't be there, at least we can see it." 

"I understand, Sovereign.  I'm sorry."

"Minister, look at me."  She lifts her head, but doesn't stand.  "Thank you."  Her jaw unclenches.  "This is more than I could have asked for." 

A fleeting smile.  "I'm honored." 

After the service, strangers swarm Shaltet again.  Mastin, who hasn't left his side in three days, does her best to keep them at bay.  But Shaltet is the first to give in—blessing the masses proves easier than convincing them he can't.  People with missing limbs, missing eyes, poisoned children near death in their parents' arms.  Here, their brown eyes are grounds for damnation.  At home, they're the reason he fell in love.  Hundreds touch his face, fall at his feet, kiss his hands.  He stays until he can't stand, can't protest when Mastin carries him to a quieter place. 

Two statues, built amongst the rippling grass, look skyward.  One shields his face from the sun, searching.  Their features are familiar from a distant memory.  More questions.  "Who are they?" Shaltet asks from his place in the soft earth.

"The first gods.  Don't you know them?"

"Somehow.  No, I do know them.  They went missing during the Golden Age."  He gets up to read the inscription at their feet: MAY THE GODS, IN THEIR INFINITE COMPASSION, FORGIVE OUR ULTIMATE SIN.  "What happened to them?  What was the ultimate sin?" 

Shaking her head, Mastin looks away.  "Hubris.  One man's greed almost doomed our people."

"What happened, Mastin?"

She sighs.  "They were murdered, Sovereign.  Some hated the change they represented.  We've done our best to repent." 

"And with whom are your people at war?"

A pause.  Mastin tears up a clump of grass.  Then another.  Then another.  "Ourselves."