Tanden found himself at a dining table.

It was large. As if he was a toddler at an adult's table, although he had his normal proportions. The table stretched out endlessly in either direction, fancy place settings laid out, but no other guests. He sensed that he was in a large room, but he couldn't quite see it. There were walls, his peripheral vision could see them, but when he tried to look closely he couldn't make out details.

He debated jumping off of his chair and looking around, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to climb back onto the chair. He was just thinking of climbing on top of the table when he heard the creak of a door opening.

Like the walls, he couldn't quite see the door. But he saw who walked in. And he couldn't believe it.

The woman was tall and strikingly beautiful. She looked a bit like Elorie. Her skin and hair were nearly as dark as the night sky, but she wore colourful wrapped clothes and her hair was braided with bright beads. A large jaguar walked at her side, powerful muscles rippling under spotted fur.

Axmazi sat directly across the table from Tanden. The jaguar, Praxel, hopped onto the chair on her left. Tanden stared, waiting for something to happen, but then motion by the door caught his eye.

A blond woman dressed in flowing white, with a sunburst crown resting on her perfect hair, walked in next. The Teltish Goddess. Of all the gods Tanden had learned about, she was the only one without a name or special title. She gracefully sat at Axmazi's right and rested her hands on her lap.

A third woman entered the room. Her skin was light brown, her hair long and dark. She wore a green dress and a wooden crown. Plants sprouted around her feet as she walked. Her Old Ziannan name was Zianesa, and Tanden found himself struggling to remember her Navirian and Deoran names.

Her family followed. Tanden named them each as he identified them. Kitsa, the goddess of air, so light on her feet she seemed fluttery. Roe, the ocean god, dressed in only a blue cloth wrapped around his waist. Volava, goddess of the fire and guardian of the Old Zian afterlife. Her husband Siour, the chariot driver. Rouis, the sun, nearly too bright to look at. Anniva and Tros, Ordon, Lukk and Lovi, Acal and Finiss, Tolle. Sunia and Catul, each holding one of their son Eogan's hands. Mysma and Jute. They walked past in a steady line, each taking seats at the table.

An old, but powerfully built man walked in next, smelling of salt and sand. The Old God of the Sea. Tanden silently felt a thrill of victory, because here the Old God of the Sea was, in the same room as Roe, clearly not the same god.

The next man had reddish brown skin and wore all black, included an elaborate black mask, decorated with stones and feathers, which concealed everything but his eyes. Jawn, the all-knowing Morcean god.

A quartet entered next. Two men and two women, each with slanted eyes like Jale. They were the Tallenese season gods. Tiya, King Summer, dressed in airy yellow, projecting warmth and kindness. Till, Queen Spring, in pale green, bringing the scent of new flowers. Tigo, King Autumn, in dark greens and brown, a serious, wise expression on his face. Finally Tier, Queen Winter, dressed in white furs and carrying her lantern. Tanden shivered, feeling chilled simply by looking at her.

Behind them walked a woman. Her skin was a delicate blue, and her dark blue hair hung nearly down to her feet. Water streamed from her hair, but evaporated as it touched the floor. Attinabi, Tanden guessed, Mother Water.

Then, gods and goddesses Tanden didn't know. A god so tall he shouldn't have fit in the room. A pair with deer-like antlers jutting from their heads. A woman with four arms. Various animal-headed gods and goddesses. They walked in endlessly, taking seats at the table, stretching for what felt like forever in both directions.

There was some quiet chatter, but it all fell silent as Axmazi spoke in Alvarian. "Welcome, friends! We have a very special guest with us tonight." Her dark eyes caught Tanden's from across the table. "Captain Lord Tanden of the West Draulin Navy Wanderlust." Then, she turned to her right. "I believe he's one of yours."

The Teltish Goddess tilted her head. Tanden felt himself shrink under her gaze. "He hasn't been one of mine for quite some time." She spoke in Teltish. "He belongs to all of us."

Zianesa spoke in Navirian—or Deoran—or Old Ziannan? Tanden understood her, but she sounded slightly off. "He's a wanderer. He listens and watches, learns and most importantly, respects."

"If he belongs to anyone, it is us!" Jute's language sounded just as off as Zianesa's. "Mysma and I brought the humans culture. We dedicate our existence to studying culture. As does he."

A deep voice spoke in Tallenese at the other end of the table. It was Tigo. "You taught your people their culture, Lord Jute. We taught ours their culture, long before you were here. Maybe he belongs to us. He knows our songs. He joined in worshiping my sister at the Tier Kuin-shon."

Beside him, Queen Winter nodded.

"He worshiped at our temples, too!" Eogan, visually the youngest god in attendance, announced.

"And," Jawn spoke Morcean in a rich voice, somehow perfectly clear despite the mask covering his mouth. "He participated in one of my festivals, too."

Attinabi spoke next. Her voice sounded like water trickling over pebbles, and Tanden had practiced enough Moattish with Elorie to catch a few words. "He.... water... ship..."

"Yes," Roe agreed passionately, in the same Navirian-Deoran-Old Ziannan mixture as his elder sister. "He belongs to the ocean." Beside him, his wife Tolle nodded.

"Aye, he does," the Old God of the Sea said in accented Low Crelan Teltish. "Born o' the water, he was."

Tanden jumped as Axmazi thumped her fist on the table. Beside her, Praxel snarled. The room went quiet.

"Maybe he belongs to me," Axmazi said. "He's an Eko, after all."

The Teltish Goddess shook her head. "He's a Tandran, when he remembers to be one," she said, disappointment evident in her calm voice.

The two antlered gods whispered to each other. Axmazi turned to them, her annoyance obvious. "If you're going to contribute, speak in a language he understands."

Tanden had been thinking of the two deities as gods as opposed to goddesses, simply because male deer had antlers. But he realized at that moment that their human features didn't strongly indicate one way or the other.

One of them brushed reddish-blond hair away from their eyes, and spoke in oddly accented Teltish. "Maybe he was a Tandran, but now he seems lost. Maybe he should come visit us."

Axmazi rolled her eyes. "He isn't going to visit you," she replied in Alvarian.

The other one frowned. "Why not?"

"Because he belongs with me." Axmazi turned back to Tanden, and smiled. "What do you think, Captain Lord Tanden?"

Tanden opened his mouth to reply, only to hear his own voice. He turned towards it. Another Tanden was sitting to his right.

"The ocean will always be my home," Other Tanden said, confident and charming. "And I have enjoyed visiting each and every one of you. But I don't belong to any of you."

Tanden gaped at Other Tanden, who flashed him a cocky grin in response.

"Captain?"

Tanden turned to his left, flooded with relief when he realized Soren was sitting beside him.

"Soren, look, I was right. Dinner parties in the sky. Roe and the Old—" Tanden cut himself off, slowly realizing that Soren wasn't looking at him. He was looking past him, to Other Tanden.

Tanden followed his gaze. Other Tanden was still grinning. "You thought a little blood would erase killing Lorca?"

Tanden flinched. "What? No. I didn't—"

He was interrupted by a growl. Praxel stood, his front paws on the table, claws digging into the wood.

Axmazi leaned forward just as fiercely. "You didn't believe in me?"

"I didn't say that," Tanden protested. He didn't want to look away from Axmazi or Praxel, who was bearing his teeth, his back legs bunching as if he were about to jump over the table. Tanden reached for Soren, hoping to catch his hand.

When his fingers found nothing, he flickered his gaze over. Soren couldn't take his hand, because both of them were occupied, slipping underneath Ara's shirt. Ara was straddling his lap, arms wrapped tightly around Soren's shoulders. His long hair hung down, obscuring both of their faces, but there was no doubt that they were kissing.

Other Tanden tutted, and Tanden turned to him. He was relaxed, one arm slung over the back of his chair, indifferent to the deities at the table around them.

"Soren likes Arastarow more than us," Other Tanden said idly. "Because Arastarow can be controlled. Not us, though. Nobody can control us. Nobody can own us."

Tanden released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "What?"

"We tried, didn't we? We begged him to take control, but instead he tricked us and waited until we were asleep. And then he went off to Arastarow."

"No." Tanden shook his head. "No, he stayed with us—with me. He stayed."

"Are you so sure? Where is he now?"

Tanden looked over his shoulder, and Other Tanden laughed.

"No, not that Soren. The real Soren."

"What?"

Other Tanden waved his right hand at the room, and the gods. They were all watching silently, and they were still. Too still. "Dinner parties in the sky? You created this. This doesn't happen. It isn't real."

Tanden looked around. All the gods and goddesses he recognized looked like the paintings and art he had seen of them. Others, like Attinabi, looked like what she represented—a waterfall. But...

"I don't know who all of these gods are," Tanden said. "The deer? The giant."

Other Tanden groaned. "You invented them. Isn't that obvious? Because you want there to be more gods and more stories to hear. More languages to learn. Because you can never be satisfied with what you have. That's why Soren likes Arastarow better."

Part of that rang true, but Tanden ignored it and focused on the part that didn't. "Soren loves exploring. And he doesn't like Ara more than me. You're lying to me."

Other Tanden shrugged. "I am you, mate. We're thinking the same things."

"Enough!" Across the table, Axmazi slammed down both firsts. Empty plates and goblets rattled and shook. "The ritual didn't work. If you want to let go of your guilt, I need more blood. Praxel?"

The jaguar hopped onto the table, claws ripping into the wood as he prepared to pounce. Then he jumped.

Tanden threw himself off of the chair. He'd forgotten how large the furniture was. He felt like he was falling forever, before crashing into the floor. He rolled, trying to scramble to his feet.

Praxel slammed onto the tiles nearby. He turned, slowly.

Other Tanden was limply hanging from his mouth. Blood welled around Praxel's teeth, and ran in crimson streams down Other Tanden's chest and over his face. It dripped from his fingers onto the floor.

Tanden limped backwards, pressing against a chair leg the size of a tree. It was Soren's chair. He could hear Soren above him, cooing sweet words to Ara.

Praxel bit Other Tanden clean in half. His torso and legs fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Praxel stepped over the pieces, and when he opened his mouth, Lorca's voice came out.

"Fuckin' Teltish lords don't belong at sea. And fuckin' a Crelan doesn't make you one of us."

Tanden sidestepped the chair leg. "You nearly killed Soren."

"Terror suits you, Lord Tanden of West Draulin," Praxel said with Lorca's voice.

"Captain?" Soren's voice echoed down from the chair high above.

Tanden didn't call to him. He didn't want Soren jumping down, getting in the way. Getting hurt again. He took another step backwards.

Praxel pounced.