Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 130
never knew.
While he had his tie to the omniscient power that had
created him, Armiger had rarely used the brain of this human
body he was in, except when he needed to understand the
irrational actions of his soldiers. This body thought, and felt,
like any human, but he didn't need to use that mind, for he had
access to the far greater mind of his master, whose own
thoughts could themselves be conscious entities.
Previously Armiger had existed as god and mind, with
the body merely a tool. Now he was only mind and body. He
ran his hands over this body, finding the strains and infections.
He stank, he realized. The human instincts he had ignored so
long quailed at the damage, the humiliation of his state. For
the first time, Armiger opened himself to those instincts.
This was what his men had felt, fighting and dying. This
was the essential experience of the deer and foxes he had
sighted as he walked: pain and loneliness.
Armiger no longer had the god to center him, make him
complete. Humans and the animals of this world had existed
without such a god. How? Who are you? he asked his human
side.
In wonder, Armiger realized he had sunk to his knees,
was clutching himself, and crying in wrenching gusts. And
now he knew the feeling of the human misery he had heard so
much on this world.
"Calandria!" Jordan clutched at her shoulder.
"Shh!" She put a hand on his lips angrily.
He started to protest--he needed help, the visions were
back--then noticed the silence.
Jordan turned his head. A few people were staring at
him. The rest had their eyes on the head table, and only one