Page 128 of Devil's Doom

“I’ll forbid Strzybog from creating any more types of bies, for sure. I don’t believe we need more kinds, in any case. The society of Slawa is varied enough. Maybetoovaried.

“It all started as gods’ play in the mortal world, and before we knew it, we had a city and multiple kinds of people living here. Perun decided they would be his after death, because he was jealous of Weles’ rule over mortal souls in Nawie. That’s why he encouraged other gods to make more bieses out of people who died violently or committed great crimes. He wanted more bies souls flitting around his tree.”

The devil hasn’t truly answered my question, but my curiosity is piqued.

“So first, there were the gods,” I say slowly, trying to make sense of the world I live in. “And then, Weles created mortals. And… And when gods got bored, they started turning mortals into bieses.”

Woland nods, taking another sip.

“Mostly, yes. Once Weles showed them what was possible with magic, everyone suddenly wanted to be a creator. But like with anything in life, making new things comes with unforeseen consequences.”

He smiles a private smile, looking away into the large fireplace on his right. The fire is low, the wood dark red with heat. I sit quietly, waiting for him to continue. It strikes me yet again, how old Woland is. One of the few who were born before time existed.

“After a bies was done serving their sentence, it turned out they could come in here,” he says, his voice tinted with amusement as he reminisces. “This mountain was unclaimed, because it was magically barren. Perun stuck to Wyraj, which brims with magic, and Weles had Nawie. The bieses who came here claimed the land in the middle, and Weles helped them build this city. He loved building things.”

His eyes grow hazy for a moment, and he sighs, his fingers twitching as if to chase away a fly.

“Before we knew it, there were hundreds, and then thousands. When they died, their souls stuck to the places where they spent their lives, and it grew chaotic, with the dead interfering in the matters of the living. Perun claimed them out of envy for his brother’s kingdom, turning them into birds and his servants.”

I nod slowly, a piece I didn’t understand before clicking into place.

“That’s why you said you’d conquer death,” I say quietly. “Because… Because if Perun is defeated, all of his rules can be changed. And you were there. When the world as it is now took shape. You saw how it happened… And you know how it can be reshaped. So what will you do? If you win?”

Woland snorts harshly. His eyes glitter with accusation, or maybe resentment, before he blinks and the expression is gone. I still feel it in my gut, feeding the guilt brewing there.

“At this point, it doesn’t feel like I’ll ever win. Nienad’s plan failed. The fence is protected against the kind of contamination we had in mind. Perun still has an unconquerable advantage—Wyraj, which is the source of magic itself, made even more powerful by the magic his tolls harvest. You were impressed with me yesterday, but my power is nothing compared to what he commands.”

I sigh, frustrated that he won’t just tell me. Though, maybe it doesn’t matter. If Woland is happy to work with rapists and excuse their behavior, he isn’t fit to rule the world whatever his plans are.

“So Igor is your ally? Or friend?” I ask, trying to make my voice indifferent. I fail, though. I am too angry not to show it.

“He’s a tool,” Woland says with an impatient huff. “And a damn useful one. I can’t afford to lose him, and even if I could, I’m not in a position to forbid him from taking wilas. Besides, what would I tell him? My consort said so?”

He laughs mockingly, and I clench my teeth, the cold in his eyes making me feel small and meaningless. When I look away, wringing my hands in my lap under the table, he sighs impatiently and leans in, grasping my chin. He forces me to look at him, and his face is neutral, the cold and the scorn wiped away.

“What do you want, Jaga? Do you want me to outlaw raping wilas if I win? I promise you I’ll do it, but you’ll have to help me. At this point, any chance of victory has moved far into the future, and my people are unhappy. If I don’t do something, I’ll lose them, too.”

He doesn’t seem distressed by the possibility, only stating facts. I stare into his eyes, my confusion made only greater by this conversation. I just wish I knew, once and for sure, if he’ll bring peace and prosperity to the world. I can give up my own goals for the benefit of many, but not unless I have some sort of guarantee.

And Woland’s word is not good enough. Not after everything he did.

“I saw Mokosz,” I say, because his eyes are too intense and unreadable, and I don’t have any answers for him. “At least, Lutowa says it was her. In the city. She had blue eyes and made the air smell like summer.”

Woland drops my chin, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“When did you see her?”

“Just now. And two days ago, too.”

He turns away, but not before I glimpse his pleased smile.

“Well, that, at least, is good news. Get some sleep. We’re going out tomorrow.”

Chapter forty-three

Beauty

Woland doesn’t try to touch me, and I wouldn’t have noticed that peculiarity except, a weary, heartsick part of me longs for a kiss I don’t get. I don’t know whether he’s too busy, or maybe too disappointed after the defeat. It feels personal. Like he’s punishing me, but he would have said something if that was the case.

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