Chapter 12
“I don’t believe it!” cried Selen. “I sent more men to ensure the downfall of Mesolimnos, and all that happened was that they fought amongst themselves, and now they have run away! Any that come before me on Moonday shall be beset with boils and virulent pustules in punishment!”
“Didn’t your priestess die of disease? What did she say?” asked Daze.
“Oh, she made some stupid comment about me sending men to starve because they could not live on thin air, and that there were not enough provisions,” said Selen. “I am punishing her because she should have ensured that there were enough provisions as soon as they arrived; and all she does is ask how she was supposed to do that. I don’t have to take control of every detail! That’s what glyph-lords and glyph-priests are for! She and the other priestesses should have found a way!”
“How would you expect them to get provisions?” asked Daze, interested.
“How should I know? We are not mortals and we do not need to eat, that mundane nonsense is up to the mortals,” said Selen, haughtily.
“Yes, indeed, I wouldn’t even know what sort of things they do eat,” said Daze. “The peasants spend a long time grubbing in the dirt; perhaps they eat dirt. There was plenty of that, so I don’t see why they were making problems.”
oOoOo
“I think the problem with Selen is that she does not understand the needs of humans,” said Alethos to Kaz as they lay cuddled up together.
Kaz sniggered.
“Now, I could say I don’t want my husband bringing Selen into our marriage bed; but I confess myself too interested in why you say that to protest,” she said.
“Gods have no need to eat nor use latrines,” said Alethos. “We elder gods have grown in power alongside the needs of our worshippers, heard their small woes and needs from time immemorial, and have come to accept the limitations of a mortal body. Selen and Daze appeared in the world in near historic time, at such time that mortal populations had learned how to handle infrastructures, like drainage, like planting and harvesting protocols, like disease management. They see mortals as a source of power for their own needs and forget the many things mortals need because they do not see such things in their worship.”
“That’s an interesting insight,” said Kaz. “It’s a bit like imposing a new ruler on an established population, one who has no idea of their customs and mores, and so tramples on them without even realising it.”
“I discovered that with the coming of the blood moon, I was losing some female worshippers, because being at war was harder when dealing with the monthly flux. Seren deals with it by making it hard for women to be warriors – except slave gladiators who have no rights – and the idea that women should stay at home; I dealt with it by relaxing my geasa and adapting them around a woman’s flux, and asking my sister to invent medicines to make the time shorter and easier.”
“And very helpful such medicines are,” said Kaz. “I think the older gods are more like mortals in their understanding; there is something horribly alien about Selen, Daze, and their pantheon.” She wriggled. “And as you don’t need sleep, and I need less, I think the time for conversation is over as I have other mortal and immortal needs.”
Alethos laughed, kissed her, and demonstrated how well he knew her needs. He wanted his wife happy and secure; she had a dangerous and dark path ahead of her. She had planted ideas in the past to make Daze both create tróglings and to curse her to give her immortality to be his beloved, but she must face the crazed god of trickery once again, in order to obliterate him, and take from him the chaos, and make it into random chance, so that change was tempered with order. This was the greatest task of any of the young heroes Alethos had care of, and the most taxing, and he could not stand beside her to do it. It wrung his heart, but Alethos knew that if he did not leave Kaz to do it alone, she would fail. But he could give her love, and support; and hold her whilst she slept, dribbling into his armpit, and making gentle sleeping noises.
oOoOo
Kaz was getting used to more worship from trógling; Rogaz had been good to her word, and instructed her priestesses to tell trógling to worship the deity who was their new racial mother, who would lead them to freedom, when toróg were also freed of the curse. Not all understood; many trógling, whose gestation was short, had the mental capacity to understand all that was said, and more to the point, what was not said. But they whispered prayers in hope that times of trial should come to an end. Rogaz went further than Kaz had asked, and banned the eating of trógling, though not all worshippers of Tor took much notice of that.
oOoOo
Alethos sorted the souls who belonged to Thanus; it was telling that there were an increasing number of Selenite soldiery who did not care enough to specifically choose Thanus. Alethos nodded to Harkon, there in a rather stunned capacity for Ombros to collect one of those who chose to pray to him, when he had sent them a deer, who had been too badly injured to survive.
“I’m happy to take you, ah, Starnus, but I won’t keep you from any family you might have elsewhere,” said Harkon.
“Mighty Stormlord, you’re the only god who I’ve felt accept my worship; I ain’t about to give up on that,” said the soldier. “And you even know my name!”
This was down to Alethos, but Harkon did not disappoint the man by revealing this.
“Perhaps you’d like to be one of my personal spirits,” said Harkon, realising that the poor fellow would not be treated well by the average dead Ombrosi, who were an uncouth bunch on the whole, and not likely to welcome a one-time Selenite.
“I’d be honoured!” said Starnus.
Harkon left Alethos with an embrace.
Alethos turned to Thanus, who watched with a wistful look.
“I’d take you back, you know, if you apologised for stealing from me in your eagerness to achieve apotheosis,” he said.
Thanus sneered.
“I broke from you because you disparaged my beloved Selen. And if you associate with those louts of the clear starlight, I can see why. You, stern, and with nothing but duty to warm what you call your heart, you know nothing of love.”
“On the contrary; it is you who know nothing of love,” said Alethos. “Giving death without love is nothing but murder. And I love my worshippers; even when some of them disappoint me. What you have is lust for a clever and manipulative goddess, whom I wager finds excuses not to be in your bed; whereas I am happily married. You could ask Phrodine, you know; she understands love in all its forms, sexual and otherwise.”
“I pity your wife; you are cold and passionless,” hissed Thanus. “You only married to bring forth a putative godling who might, or might not manage to combine the red and the blue moons in order to heal the blue.”
“Oh, you will believe what you want,” said Alethos. “I can see that you have made up your mind. But I had to make the offer.”
The chime was a sad one.
“What was that in aid of?” asked Thanus.
“I assume some prophecy I don’t know,” said Alethos. “I’ve stopped questioning Fate over her chimes.”
Moraia appeared.
“When Death offers his hand to the apostate, either much carnage will be avoided, or the thief will choose to go onwards to his own destruction without redemption,” she said. “The one-time pupil will come for vengeance over the former master.”
“And I will not protect you when she does,” said Alethos, to Thanus.
oOoOo
“Harkon, what are you doing?” asked Thyella. Harkon was labouring over a map with a parchment beside him divided into squares some of which he had painted in various colours. The names of regions went across the top, and months ran down the side.
“You told me I needed to shed weather where and when it seemed appropriate, and I am working out where and when is appropriate,” said Harkon. “I suppose Ombros kept it all in his head, but I’m learning from first principles when a storm is appropriate.”
Thyella opened her mouth and shut it again.
“Ombros mostly went where he felt like, or when he was called in to relieve a long period of hot and dry, in Summerscome, Hottest, and Harvestime mostly,” she said. “But of course he also helped reduce the cold in Winterscome and Coldest, and sometimes in Fairmonth and Leaffall.”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to recall when most storms occur,” said Harkon. “And add them to the chart.”
“Ombros was never that... organised,” said Thyella.
“What can I say? I’m an Alethosi,” said Harkon.
“I love you the way you are,” said Thyella. “But don’t let people get too complacent over avoiding storms in Springstart or Leaffall just because they are less common.”
“True,” said Harkon. “Because sometimes they happen. Why is there lightning over a volcano that you had to go and deal with it?”
“It has to do with a build up of lightning-stuff in the atmosphere, caused by the heat,[1]” said Thyella. “I have to tap it and draw it off before it goes crazy and causes a disaster.”
“Oh, right,” said Harkon.
oOoOo
“How did anyone, even a god, destroy my temple?” screeched Selen, who was taking a while to catch up with what was going on. “Why was Ogeron Cass allowed to die? It was to be the wedding of the year! Where is that little bitch? I can’t feel her at all!”
Selen was unaware that Harkon had destroyed her temple from the inside bursting out, which made a difference. As Ogeron Cass, she had sealed his fate herself when she ripped from the empress’s bed to send to Mesolimnos.
“You have troubles, I have troubles,” grumbled Daze. “For some reason I’m getting fewer dying trógling; maybe the damned Toróg are treating them better so they don’t die. And I took a hit to my power when I fashioned the egg of discord, expecting to get plenty of power back through the strife it caused, and those damned Alethosians went and destroyed it!”
“And my worshippers are diminished by going and dying on me because they couldn’t be bothered to eat enough dirt!” mourned Selen. “And there’s trouble in Selenopolis! They are revolting!”
“Yes, but all mortals are pretty revolting,” said Daze, admiring himself in his magic mirror, which showed only his handsome aspect.
“Don’t be a fool,” snapped Selen. “In revolt!”
“Well, scare them back into good behaviour, m’dear,” said Daze.
Selen’s smile was predatory.
“I think Aima will bring them into line.”
“That should be funny,” said Daze. “All those fat little burghers thinking they have the right to complain – being prey to Aima’s people will give them something to whine about.”
oOoOo
“Lord of Storms! Please help us! Sardio won’t appeal to you, he scoffs about you being a god, he doesn’t believe in gods!” Tallys was close to panicking.
“Considering how little Selen and her pantheon do for any but priests, I can’t say I am surprised,” said Harkon. “What’s wrong?”
“Aima! She’s here herself, and a whole army of bloodsuckers and they are turning the dead into nekrosti!”
“I’ll put together a team and be with you presently.”
“See? And what did your praying do? Nothing,” sneered Sardio SubDoxus.
There was a rumble of thunder, and a crackle of lightning as Harkon turned up. He had his sister, his wife, Ralthur, Protasion, Lelyn, Phaedros and Rynn with him.
“Why, I do declare, what a most stimulating and jolly way to travel, my friend!” cried Phaedros. “It is a little noisy and smelly, but far more exciting and immediate than merely going to the sunsphere and then drifting down in a ray of sunlight. I declare, I am jealous of thy means of relocation!”
Rynn poked him.
“You’re being ponderous again,” she said.
“It is considered proper when addressing others in the presence of mortals, my sweet friend,” said Phaedros. “For surely these people who gape at us so uncouthly are mortals, startled out of their normal veneer of good manners?”
Rynn caught his eye, and saw the twinkle within it.
“In sooth, my puissant lord, I have neglected the proper protocols in striving for herodom,” she said. “I must apologise, in proper form, that those who have invoked our aid might regain equilibrium during our most formal discourse.”
“I’m surrounded by comedians,” grumbled Harkon.
“Verily, my brother, ’tis but the proper usage when dealing with those of mortal status, since ’tis their expectation. How canst thou expect respect for thy manifestation of apotheosis if thou wilt speak and act as one more glyph lord-priest?” said Protasion, grinning.
“I don’t really want to... oh, never mind,” said Harkon. “Tallys says you have trouble with Aima and her bloodsuckers, Sardio, but that you did not see fit to inform me that you had troubles out of your expectation of expediting?”
“I... I did not realise that prayer would reach you,” said Sardio.
“It goes with the territory of having become a god,” said Harkon. “And I know fine well that Thanus is no more than a jumped-up hero with delusions of adequacy, and who does not provide glyph spells to handle the undead as Alethos does. And as I’m a hero of Alethos before I’m a temporary weather god, I’m rather good at handling undead. And Ralthur killed the bloodsucker priest here before we left, so he’s not inexperienced; Protasion and Lelyn are old hands, but Lelyn is here as medical backup, being associate priest and lord of Latrika, and being with child. It’s time for Aima to go; we killed her brother, Lycos, now it’s her turn. I take it things were going well enough before that, Sardio?”
“Oh! Yes. All the soldiery disappeared for no apparent reason, and we stormed the secret police, hanged Osedax and Julus Helio. We’ve spread the rebellion to other cities, and the soldiery has gone from them as well,” said Sardio.
“Selen picked them up en masse and dumped them outside Mesolimnos to join the siege; but neglected to provide them with any provisions,” sniggered Harkon. “Gods aren’t necessarily wise, however powerful they may be, and Selen and Daze lack something the older gods have – an understanding garnered over time immemorial of how their worshipers think and react.”
“Er... right,” said Sardio. “The gods have never done anything for me.”
“Well, we can go away and leave you to your bloodsuckers, if you like,” said Thyella, waspishly.
“Er, no, lady, if you please, if you can do anything....” Sardio trailed off, unsure what to say.
“Let us go and occupy the temple of Thanus, and overthrow its priesthood and guardian spirit in order to turn it into a proper temple of Alethos, and then we have a bit more godly backup for those who don’t automatically count as a temple in their own right,” said Lelyn.
“I’m in,” said Dróg.
“And me,” said Crondion.
“Then let the hunt begin,” said Harkon.
“And Aima is mine,” said Phaedros.
[1] As Thyella understands it, not understanding the build up of static caused by the friction between volcanic particles. The gods of this world work at an instinctive level.
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