As The Shore To The Tides, So Blood Calls To Blood (Beneath Ceaseless Skies #301)

In the beginning, two brothers divided the world between the bitter waters and sweet. Tiago parted the bitter waters of the boundless deeps, and his brother Jaime carved the revealed land with his lakes and rivers and streams so they could flow and empty into the seas his brother so loved.

They looked upon their handiwork and were well pleased.

In time, towns and great cities grew along the shores of the rivers and lakes and streams Jaime had created, and the people raised their voices in worship of him. Even sitting upon his Stormwrack Throne, built from the timbers and keels of a thousand wrecked ships, Tiago could hear their adulation. None but the most salt-bitten did more than fear him and curse his name, and with what reason? Did the sweet waters not drown as easily as bitter? Did he not guard deeper mysteries and wonders than his brother?

So it came to be that he saw Jaime walking along the shore one day and rose to greet him. From the surf, Tiago called out, “Brother, how pleased I am to see you! How do you fare?”

“Greetings!” Jaime smiled but did not slow his stride nor turn to face him. “I am well, if occupied at the moment.”

“Occupied?” Tiago laughed, not believing his ears. “Surely, you have time to speak to your beloved brother?”

“Of course, Tiago.” Jaime’s smile was a mere tightening of his lips. “What do you wish to tell me?”

“Your people.” Tiago was taken aback by his brother’s demeanor. When had Tiago ever been less than generous and gracious with his kin, always speaking to him as his equal in all things, face to face? “I hear so many people who call your name in reverence, and the few who I have curse mine, afraid of me.”

“Yes.” Jaime dug new beds for rivers that meandered without emptying into the sea and said nothing more.

At last, convinced his brother was not listening to him any longer, Tiago spoke again. “Why?”

Droplets of sweat fell from Jaime’s brow, splashing into the dust to grow into fast-moving streams, chattering as they sprang from stone to stone. When he was done, he realized he’d become lost in his task and his brother was waiting for his answer. The force of Tiago’s glare made him step back, raising a hand as if to ward off a blow.

“Forgive me, but I don’t know the answer to what you ask,” Jaime said. “I know people prefer to drink my waters and use them to grow their crops. They carve their own beds to tame my waters and lead them under their clever wheels to mill grains, or as canals between my rivers. And though many more drown in the sweet waters than the bitter, they find your domain to be the more terrible.”