Working God's Mischief (3 page)

“Hammer and Zyr.”

“Sounds risky. Why?”

“Red Hammer
is
risky. He's emotionally juvenile. But War is the opposite. He's the most thoughtful Shining One. The others respect his wisdom. He's the one most likely to adapt.”

“Double Great, you done with that? Good. Asgrimmur, make it happen.”

Cloven Februaren joined the ascendant. He disconnected the bottle from its petcock while Asgrimmur laid hand on and talked fast.

Voice choking, Anna said, “Asgrimmur, get out of my line of fire!”

The ascendant stepped aside. “There isn't a problem that…”

Anna's face went white. She stabbed her slow match into the touch hole of her falcon.

A shadow burst out of the silver glass bottle's opening.

Enriched godshot shredded the Instrumentality called Red Hammer. It shattered the bottle and the entity still inside it, too, along with everything else between Anna and the wall. It ripped the clay pad there. The blast shifted tables and broke small glassware. The roar deafened everyone.

It stunned or rendered unconscious those who had been in front of the falcon's mouth.

Seeing no one else fit, Hecht took charge. By means of signs he got his family to drag the others back behind the falcons. Some hearing returned by the time they finished. Hecht told Pella, “Help your mother reload and shift her aim. I'll take care of these folks.”

There was little he could do now. Time would bring them back.

His own hearing returned quickly. First voice he heard was Anna wanting to know if she had done the right thing.

“Absolutely, darling. The demon meant to attack Asgrimmur.”

“But…”

“You did the right thing.” That was what she needed to hear.

The lesson was not lost on the watching goddesses. They looked stricken.

Massaging his ears, the ascendant stood. “They've just fully realized that they're in the presence of the Godslayer. Ironically, their fear of him triggered the cascade of events that brought them to this.”

“Godslayers,” Hecht mumbled. Grimmsson looked like a man with a biting ulcer. “What's the matter?”

“There isn't much Gray Walker left but what remains is distraught. Red Hammer was his son. Zyr was his only real friend.”

Hecht eyed the ascendant's stump. That lost god-friend, Zyr, had been a one-hander, too. “What about Arlensul?”

“I get nothing.”

“Wasn't Red Hammer her brother?”

“Half brother. Like most of the early gods, the Walker got around.”

“Didn't call him All-Father for nothing, eh?”

“No. Also, Arlensul didn't like Red Hammer.”

“Where do we stand now?”

“Heris will now get all the cooperation she wants. Extinction means more to immortals with no expectation of an afterlife. Mortals arrive in the world under sentence of death. We know it, we don't like it, but we accept the fact that we can't do anything about it.”

“Let's hope she does get what she wants.” He was not sure what that was, though.

She did, for sure, have her entire self wrapped up in it, though.

*   *   *

Four hours fled before everyone recovered enough to continue. Some ate. Old soldier Piper Hecht napped.

Ferris Renfrow tried communicating with the freed goddesses. They were not gracious. Had they not been at a disadvantage they would have had nothing to do with Arlensul's half-breed get.

When awake Hecht kept an eye on Cloven Februaren. The old boy's mad, adolescent sense of humor might cause him to do something absurd.

Heris and the ascendant cleared the mess left by the falcon blast. They tossed the wreckage out the windows.

Pella helped. Though afraid of heights he liked watching stuff fall.

Hecht came out of his nap to find the Old Ones gone. He started to demand an explanation, stifled himself. He was not used to not being in charge. Nor did it matter where they had gone. They could not leave the Realm of the Gods.

“How are you holding up?” he asked Anna.

“I'm all right. I napped some, too. Not as enthusiastically as the Snore King, though.”

This was good. She could joke. “How about…?”

“I worked it out. I had no choice. And Vali would have taken the shot if I hadn't, anyway.”

Hecht glanced at Vali. She nodded.

Heris said, “Stop fussing, little brother. She's good. We're all good. We can hear again. No harm done, and nobody is hungry. Let's get to work.”

“All right. But I'm wondering where we're going, Heris. You killed the Windwalker. He was the reason this all got started.”

“Kharoulke had a family. Vrislakis. Zambakli Souleater. Djordjevice the Foul.”

“And?”

“And they are all spawn of the primal Night, freed by the ice and going unchallenged because Asgrimmur imprisoned the Old Ones. They're starting to recover,” said Heris.

“Kharoulke couldn't fight you off.”

“He was alone. I wasn't. And other old evils are wakening, too, Instrumentalities who think in millennial terms. They can wait for help from wicked people.”

“Huh?”

“Rudenes Schneidel? People doing what we are but with bloody evil intent?”

Hecht gaped, startled by her passion.

“You know er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen, Piper. How many resurrections has he been tied to? He won't stop till he succeeds. You thwarted him in the Connec and at Arn Bedu but he'll be up to some other villainy by now.”

Hecht stared. Heris said, “You know where destiny is taking you. You'll need all the help you can get on the way.” She gestured at the remaining alembics. “If our clumsiness hasn't turned them against us.”

“I suspect clumsiness doesn't account for much.”

Heris nodded. Her expression turned grim. Then she winked. “Onward, little brother. To the next step.”

“Did anybody check for blast damage to the connector tubes?”

“Double Great did. They're sound at the wall. He rigged the bowl for the soul egg feed to the one that connected to the bottle Anna shot.”

“But that one didn't have the double petcock.”

“No. The one in front of you did. The tube had a bigger diameter and bent down behind, to the second petcock, but it got cut by shrapnel.”

Hecht eyed the head-high bowl Februaren had rigged. “That's too precarious. You put weight in there, it'll tip over. Why not wait and see what you can do with the right feed once we let those things out?”

Heris restrained her stubborn determination to be in charge. “Double Great. What do you think?”

“That this time Piper's head is working right. We need the double valve to manage the Trickster.”

“All right. Let's do that.”

*   *   *

The next release brought forth three Old Ones, all female. Of those Hecht already knew one, Wife. That was a name, not a title, though Wife was the spouse of the Gray Walker.

Hecht watched them swear oaths that bound them to good behavior. Asgrimmur leaned closer as the second goddess swore. “Sheaf. Aspected to grain and crop fertility.” As though that ought to mean something. “She'll need watching. She was Red Hammer's number-one wife. And these Instrumentalities can be big on revenge. And the pretty one is Aldi.”

Cloven Februaren joined them. “One more bottle. And one unhappy Trickster still in storage.”

The ascendant missed his tone. He nodded. “The last two. One god, one goddess. But she's Red Hammer's mother.”

Februaren said, “I'm thinking we have more trouble than you've let on, friend Asgrimmur.”

“What do you mean?”

“That this can't be on the up-and-up. You supposedly trapped all of the Old Gods here, except Ordnan and Arlensul. Right?”

Silence overran the chamber, the Great Sky Fortress, the Realm of the Gods. Cloven Februaren had used a name never to be spoken by mortal men.

Asgrimmur started shaking. “Aaron's Balls, old man! Have a care!”

“Why? He's gone. Less than the whisper of a ghost. Right?”

“Names have vast power.”

“A root theorem of magic. So. How about you share some names that we might not find on the roster of Instrumentalities we're bringing back here,” said Februaren.

“I don't understand.”

“I doubt that. This old man didn't spend all his time with Iron Eyes swapping tall tales and seeing who could drink the most dwarf beer.”

Heris was behind Asgrimmur now, and distinctly unhappy. “What's the story, Double Great?”

“An old one, maybe. But I'm not quite ready to say we've been hornswoggled.”

“Double Great!”

“All right! There are problems with our situation. Anomalies.”

“Such as?” Heris asked.

“I got Iron Eyes to tell me what he could about the Old Ones. Now I'm raising questions. There are whole platoons of gods and goddesses who didn't get stuck inside Asgrimmur's pocket reality. Assuming twelve really is how many were trapped here. Which is what the Aelen Kofer claim.”

Asgrimmur slumped. “It's true. I should've seen it. But it's also true that these twelve are all who were here when I locked them up. I'm thinking now, maybe, thanks to Korban's father. He was here, I think. My memories aren't very clear.”

Februaren said, “I've studied this mythology, Asgrimmur. There are problems with your story.”

“There are inconsistencies in every faith, old man. We blind ourselves willfully. What's your particular problem?” The ascendant grew more disturbed as the old sorcerer prodded.

“The Trickster.”

“Uh … and?”

“The tale of the Old Ones is a long one. It's convoluted and filled with the aforementioned inconsistencies. They defeated the primal Instrumentalities, Kharoulke, Vrislakis, and their kin. But the Gray Walker wasn't top Shining One back then. He had a father and a grandfather. He had some brothers. It took them all to make the middle world and create people. Zyr was around before most of the Old Ones. He may have been a friend of Ordnan's grandfather. The dwarves say he was a more important god, way back.

“Then there was the War Between the Gods. The Old Gods against the Raneul. The Shining Ones won but the Raneul weren't destroyed. Some moved in here and became Shining Ones themselves. The rest are around somewhere. Likewise, a whole raft of missing original Old Ones. And, after that, there's still the Trickster matter.”

Asgrimmur drew a long, deep breath, released it in a long, loud sigh.

“Knowing all that, then, you no doubt know that the missing Instrumentalities are to be found in Eucereme.”

“I don't know that name. It isn't one Iron Eyes ever used.”

“We talk about the Nine Worlds but the only ones we've dealt with are this one, the middle world, and that of the Aelen Kofer. Your missing gods and goddesses are probably hiding in the world of the Raneul, where they won't have to deal with Godslayers.”

That was an answer, of a sort, but not one that satisfied, there being a normal human inclination to expect secret meanings, motives, and movers.

Heris said, “Double Great, this is all interesting as hell but how about we finish the job we've got?”

“Good idea. But first let's make sure it doesn't finish us. Asgrimmur. About the Trickster.”

“What about him?”

“He is in there, right?”

“Yes.”

“How does that work? I thought he'd been thrown out of the Realm of the Gods because of tricks he played on the other Old Ones.”

“I don't know. He probably talked his way back in once the All-Father went down.”

“Double Great. However he got here, he's here. Deal with that.”

“I'm trying. I think it might be useful to know why he came back.”

“He came back because he thought he could score with the Gray Walker out of the way. You want to poke and pry and figure things out, see if the Trickster didn't set Ordnan up somehow. But do it on your own time.”

Cloven Februaren looked at Hecht. “I think the success with Kharoulke has gone to her head.”

Hecht did not smile. He was tired and worried and wanted out of this suburb of the Pit. “Let's finish up so we can get out and go home.”

“You, too? All right. I blame it on Grade Drocker, her father. But don't worry about outside. Time goes slower out there. They aren't missing you, yet.”

So now the old man was poking him with a stick.

Hecht refused to play.

Still arguing, Heris and Februaren, with Ferris Renfrow behind, made another round of everything up front, looking for possible problems.

“Asgrimmur?” Heris called. “You ready?”

“Sorry. Woolgathering, I guess.”

He had gone thoughtful the moment Heris suggested that the Trickster might have had something to do with the Gray Walker's misfortunes.

Hecht watched closely as the ascendant established a dialog with the last two Old Ones. He wished there were a way to gauge how potent the ghosts within the man really were.

 

3. Lucidia: Tel Moussa

For a month frenetic preparations alternated with boredom at the watch fortress atop Tel Moussa. The Mountain, General Nassim Alizarin, had grown thoroughly frustrated. God Himself must be testing him.

His patience was gone. His faith had grown weak.

Alizarin spent his days in the parapet of the highest tower, enduring the hot winds off the Idiam. His men had installed a canopy to provide shade while their old general wrestled his ghosts and conscience.

Nassim Alizarin had been a great champion and commander of the Sha-lug, the mighty slave soldiers of Dreanger. None had stood higher save the Marshall, Gordimer the Lion. Then, for no reason ever made clear, Gordimer had permitted the murder of Nassim's son Hagid. Nassim rebelled. So he was here, now, a tool of Dreanger's enemies.

Alizarin now understood that the Marshall's part in the murder had consisted of omission and indifference. Lost in the distractions that came with power, Gordimer had become an unwitting puppet of the sorcerer er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen.