Destiny's Queen 19

 Hi, folks, running out of chapters and may have to miss a day - not feeling too good over the last few days. I'll try and keep up. 

Chapter 19

 

“Now, one moment,” said Harkon. “Selen held her skyboat in the night zone in order to sail in front of Solos and the sun disk, but it is costing her power to stay there. She and Daze were expecting to have power from the sacrifice of the trógling with which to power this, and he has had to go and report to her that he doesn’t have it. I don’t think she can maintain the position, and certainly not as Solos moves across the sky.”

“It’s a gamble,” said Thyella.

“No, it’s calling her bluff,” said Harkon. “The lunarsphere is lower than the sunsphere, so she has to make continual adjustments which will cost power. Nip up and tell your grandsire to keep on going in the same way, and just barge past her.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“Then we let loose everyone on her.  But I think if we essentially attack, it might set things off too early. Call it a hunch.”

“I don’t disregard your hunches,” said Thyella, calming down. “Let’s go and see grandfather; he listens to you.”

 

The view from the skysphere showed the aggressive crimson of the red moon’s skyboat just below and in front of the golden throne.

“Harkon, my boy! What is that crazy woman up to?” asked Solos.

“Being crazy,” said Harkon. “She expended power to raise a volcano, and has caused more mayhem, but the sacrifice of the toróg settlement she put the volcano through to put herself in this position is useless, because the Daykaz has the souls that Daze expected to collect. I believe that you should just continue moving forward across the world, and she will have no choice but to get out of the way, and make her way back east to rise in her normal place at night, or risk losing worshippers who think she has vanished.”

“Make it so,” said Solos, speaking to his cloudrowers.

“Mighty Solos, whence come the cloudrowers?” asked Harkon.

“They are those of my priests and lords who did not fulfil their potential, or who transgressed, but in a minor way,” said Solos. “For this, I permit them in my presence, but doing penance in rowing me across the sky until they have expiated their sins. Sadly, there are always more to take their place.”

“Thank you, sire,” said Harkon.

The throne moved forward; and with a convulsive flurry, the moonboat dodged sideways; and soon vanished behind.

Solos beamed.

“You were correct,” he said. “I will issue instructions that my people must offer aid to any toróg as they have suffered on our account. Now, my boy, there is a plume of ash over there – and we do not want the peoples of the north to suffer for an unnatural cold caused by it, so you had better go and dissipate it. And I will have the north wind aid you.”

“Thank you, sire,” said Harkon, fixing his eye on the volcanic plume. He must break it up with a whirlwind, and let the individual winds toss the last of it out to sea.

 It was most unpleasant. The plume was thick with ash, and it got in Harkon’s hair, beard, and moustache, and even in his eyebrows. His eyes felt gritty, and he could feel it in his clothes. He reached out to ask Nevra to lay the ash in heavy rain.

The other winds joined him.

“You are fulfilling the role of Ombros well,” said Zephyra, the gentle west wind. “Forgive us for not welcoming you; we are grieving and do not know how to speak to you.”

“I grieve him myself, on behalf of Thyella mostly, as I never got to know him well,” said Harkon. “But he laid the duty on me, as his last wish, and I try to fulfil what is needed.”

“Ah, I did not think you were just trying to take his place,” said Zephyra. “I will tell my brothers off for resenting you.”

“I wasn’t the one who killed Ombros,” said Harkon. “Though I did advise him not to attack Selen. Their side had a prophesy that Lycos could rip his powers out, and become the Stormwolf.”

“That would have been terrible!” cried Zephyra.

“Yes; so I took his powers to preserve them from Lycos,” said Harkon. “At his own wish.”

“Grief is not rational,” said Zephyra, sadly.

“No, and I respect your grief; but your brothers must learn also to respect my duty,” said Harkon.

“Knowing of the prophecy of the Stormwolf will shock them,” said Zephyra. “I think that will help to reconcile them to you taking on Ombros’s powers, and acting as if you were Ombros.”

“That is for his followers,” said Harkon. “I did not think that the fight against chaos could afford for the world to know that Ombros was dead; it would have demoralised the chief of the knights of the clear starlight, and though I do not agree with all their ideals, I recognise them as staunch enemies of the red moon.”

“Oh! That makes sense,” said Zephyra, with a gentle sigh.

 

oOoOo

 

Harkon was glad of a long deep bath when he got home. Thyella brought him soothing pads for his eyes, and suggested helping to make sure there was no more dust anywhere tender. There may have been no dust for her to remove, but Harkon did not protest.

“It was a big volcano,” said Thyella. “But my job is just bringing down the lightning stuff when it builds up.”

“A scattered settlement with about as many souls as a city,” said Harkon, soberly. “Kaz was sobbing bitterly over some six thousand trógling, including children and babes, and the unborn from trógling and toróg alike.”

“She will have to learn not to be so affected,” said Thyella, uncertainly. “Not that I have ever lost so many at once.”

“I think it was a shock,” said Harkon. “Well, of course it was a shock. Very few gods lose so many in one go. And Kaz has been wanting to build up her live people when all this is over.”

“I am glad Alethos is a warmer person than I realised,” said Thyella. “He will cuddle her whilst she works through it.”

“What I don’t think she has yet realised was that the sacrifice power that Daze expected came to her instead, giving her a massive reserve when she comes to fight him,” said Harkon. “The energy was palpable, but she was more interested in her people.”

“That’s why she deserves it,” said Thyella. “Our tough, fragile little goddess needs supporting; and I am glad you went to back her up.”

“I’ve been backing up Kaz since she turned up at the temple, correcting everyone in their pronunciation of trógling, and demanding the chance to be a warrior,” said Harkon. “It shortly became clear that she was the subject of a prophecy, and a scary prophecy at that. I nearly choked when Alethos himself turned up to guide her, masquerading as a hero pretending to be an initiate, and I stood as an elder brother to her, and the friends she gathered. It’s my job, protecting Kaz, and I have been rewarded by Fate with a wonderful wife.”

Conversation became fitful after this.

 

oOoOo

 

“Alethos,” said Kaz, “Were there prophesies about you and your sisters rescuing the weather gods from the Maelstrom?”

“Not really; the web of Fate was torn and mutilated by the coming of the Wolf of Chaos, the despoiling of the Blue Moon, and the births of Selen and Daze,” said Alethos. “There were prophesies but they were obscure until after the cataclysm. After all, you have read some from back then. But it was nothing we had known, we had nothing to which to compare it.”

“So, you went into confining, then rescuing them without time to worry about it?” said Kaz.

“Oh! That’s what you’re thinking about. No, we had some time to prepare.”

“Did... did you ever worry that you would not manage to do it properly? That you would make a royal mess of it?”

“Yes,” said Alethos. “But we had no choice. We had to buckle down and get things done because nobody else was going to do so. The mighty sun in his sky was above such things, and steered clear – with good reason. The Maelstrom could have sucked him and his court all the way down to the underworld, whilst it was raging. Only trust in each other and love of our fellow beings kept us from being lost. And this is why you will succeed; you are loved by so many, and trusted to be able to do your part.”

“I... I’m not even quite sure what my part is; save that I must confront the Trickster again,” said Kaz, in a small voice.

“You represent all that is good and true; he represents all that is twisted and false,” said Alethos. “And I believe that the tethering of the truth glyph to the market place was a clue by my mother, who likes to interfere, into how you will approach it.”

“Oh!” said Kaz. “I need to dismantle his labyrinth and strip its protection from him.”

There was a chime.

“There! Feeling better?”

“Considerably,” said Kaz. “I have a lot of work to do towards it, but I have more than half a year in which to do it. And help from my friends.” She drew a shuddering breath. “Is it wrong to be scared?”

“I was terrified when we were braving the maelstrom, if that’s any help,” said Alethos.

“Well, if you were scared, I feel less of a coward for being scared, too,” said Kaz.

“Bravery is being scared, but getting the job done anyway,” said Alethos. “Come here, and let me take your mind off it.”

 

Kaz awoke.

“I got a message from your mother,” she said. “The source of some of his power is a mirror; and what he imagines into it is projected as if it were reality. I need to break or dismantle it somehow, destroy the polished bronze of its surface.”

“Spirits of salt,[1]” said Alethos. “But you have to be careful with it, it’s nasty stuff.”

“Should I put runes and glyphs on a magical mirror of my own to hold up to see what is illusion and what is truth?” suggested Kaz.

“Kaz, do you suppose that the Trickster will bother to learn about Darksense from those trógling he has in thrall?” said Alethos.

“No,” said Kaz.

“And this is why you are the right person to oppose him,” said Alethos. “If he sends a dragon, for example, which looks like a dragon, even smells like a dragon, but sounds like a fruit bat....”

“I am stupid, sometimes,” said Kaz.

“No, love, you are a little overwhelmed at times,” said Alethos. “Don’t overthink things. A straightforward trógling who worships truth and death has all the tools she needs.”

 

oOoOo

 

“What are you doing back in the night, sis? Weren’t you going to block out the sun?” asked Daze.

“Daze, are you totally moronic, or merely very stupid?” demanded Selen.

“There’s no need to be like that. What’s your problem, love?” said Daze, nibbling his sister’s ear. He yelled in pain as she slapped his face, hard.

“What’s my problem? Not having enough power to hold the moonboat in front of the sun, that’s what my problem is!  You promised me to pass to me the power of the sacrifice of the death agonies of your trógling, but where were you when I needed that? What were you up to? Playing games taunting Rogaz and trying to seduce her at the same time? Where is my power?”

“Oh, er, right,” said Daze, shifting, uncomfortably. “There isn’t any.”

“What do you mean, there isn’t any? What have you done with it?  What fool plan did you decide to implement whilst forgetting that I only undertook that endeavour in the expectation of you letting me have all that sacrificial power?”

“It wasn’t like that! I mean, it wasn’t my fault!  I had no choice!” cried Daze.

“Talk very fast and you had better make it good, you worthless creature,” said Selen. “You’re lazy, feckless, and even when you send out your riddlers, you manage to lose them.”

“That’s not fair, you lost Lycos because you didn’t support him, and Thanus, and Aima.”

“I’m not hearing any good excuses yet; you’ll be sleeping on the rocks if you don’t give me a satisfactory answer.”

“Apparently, there’s now a goddess of trógling, and she got all the power,” said Daze, sulkily. “And Alethos was gloating, and Tor hit me.”

“Not hard enough,” said Selen. “A goddess of trógling? How can that be? Is it some beast-breasted heroine of Rogaz and you let the flash of six titties divert you?”

“No! It’s a trógling, and she doesn’t look like most of them, she’s really curvy and rather cute....”

Daze picked himself up as Selen’s hand impacted hard on his face.

“Well, you wanted to know what happened,” he said, sulkily.  “She took them, and other gods backed her up, so I had to come away.”

“So, I threw all that power into raising a volcano, and then holding still for two days in the night place for nothing?” screeched Selen.

“It should have worked!” said Daze. “As a plan, it was flawless! I couldn’t know some female had claimed the trógling and become a goddess; trógling are weak, and they didn’t ought to be able to be heroes or heroines or goddesses. I made them weak!”

“Well, plainly you slipped up,” said Selen. “And you need not come to my bed until you have come up with some way to mitigate this absolute disaster. I have worried my followers for nothing, and become the laughing stock of the skies! Solos pushed ahead of me and all those rotten sunlings were laughing! Thyella waved to me, a little bitty wave, like you do to a child!”

Daze slunk off; he knew better than to try to seduce his sister when she was in this mood. He was likely to be slapped, beaten, bitten, and otherwise humiliated. And not in a good way.

 

---

[1] Hydrochloric acid

Destiny's Queen 18

 

Chapter 18

 

Daze did not have that many riddlers. He did not trouble with glyph priests or lords; he could not be bothered to learn how glyphs worked, and certainly not how to allow worshippers to make use of them. His preferred method of initiating those to him was through riddles and conundrums, to twist the minds of those he brought to what he called enlightenment, and what any well-trained philosopher could prove to be  a state of casuistry, double-think, and mental chicanery designed to persuade any ordinary person that black was white, and that their belief structure was flawed, and that they were somehow unreasonable. The circular arguments did not work on most of those who belonged to a truth cult, but could have a profound effect on the unwary to argue from a position that sounded reasonable until dissected. Daze offered his followers rewards according to their needs, asking only from each what they might be prepared to give; and it sounded reasonable until some poor sap, wondering why he was giving more and getting less than some others realised that it was a recipe for free-loaders to claim needs beyond their true needs and claim their efforts were not able to aspire to anything as tiring as work.

As such, Daze noticed that one of his riddlers was suddenly unable to worship properly and was cut off from him. He was sore wrath, but could do little about it.

And he and Selen had a plan which would also punish the toróg and their wretched tróglings. Selen had some control over pulling at the forces of the earth, and she sought for a source of underground fire. Her power was waning with the moon, but still she coaxed it through underground chambers, and forced it through fissures, building pressure.

 

oOoOo

 

“How can we stop other people like this Myopsos?” asked Pempios. He had asked Pythas and Chrysandion to a meeting, with such people as they thought suitable.

“Carve a truth rune on every flagstone in the town square, suffuse them with power, and anyone standing there and lying gets zapped,” said Kaz.

“That’s a lot of carving,” said Pempios.

“Depends how fancy you want it,” said Kaz. “A mining cantrip makes a trógling fingernail able to gouge rock; a dozen trógling could do it overnight. Then a joint ceremony from the truth cults, which include Thyella, who could add a little lightning to the mix, and job done.”

“Of course, it might cause some problems for those merchants whose stock-in-trade is a degree of exaggeration....” said Pythas.

“Into each life some rain must fall,” said Kaz. “We’ll have the most honest merchants in the world.”

 

oOoOo

 

It was the method of the riddlers to cause trouble in public places, and two other persons were identified spreading lies in the market place, once the glyphs were installed quietly overnight, and activated by Chrysandion, Pythas, Harkon, and Thyella, each working from one corner. The ripple of raw power over the flags as the glyphs were activated was satisfying; and the first catch of the day was a young sneak-thief claiming to know nothing of a missing apple.

The merchants were outraged, until Hraazaz, who was a respected trader, pointed out that it would add to their reputations if they admitted small flaws, and would catch out foreigners trying to deal in rubbish.

And then there were two riddlers. One named Glossos operated by the expedient of spreading quiet rumours. His attempts to spread scandal about Pythas’s private life were accompanied by a number of yelps and tiny lightning bolts. This made him easy to identify, and he found himself challenged to an honour duel by a trógling.

Relieved that he could easily handle such feeble beings, Glossos agreed, and a duelling space was cleared. Glossos did not trouble to discover the name of the person he held in contempt, but it would probably not have enlightened him any more than he already believed himself to be to know that the trógling was a female named Rynn. As he doubled down on his calumnies by making filthy speculations about Rynn herself, Rynn called death duel.

Glossos died wondering how this absolute massacre had come about.

Rynn was given a good wide berth. And she smiled.

The second riddler, Convobulos, liked to make public declamations and use his oratory, which was very skilful. He soon realised that out and out lies were punished, and worked around this with half-truths and speculation; but he settled into his stride and fell back on his usual rhetoric, which essentially boiled down to the good citizens of Mesolimnos being cheated by their city council and leading cults.

“Have you ever wondered where the gold on the golden dome of the Solosian temple comes from?” he cried. “It is from exacting payments from honest citizens not to be accused and convicted of crimes AAAAGHOW!”

“Can we arrest him now?” asked Pempios.

“You could bring a civil case against him,” said Pythas. “But it’s not really a crime. And it’s demonstrably a lie. That had to smart; one of those lightning bolts bounced off the pavement and went right up between his legs.”

Both men winced.

Kaz had talked fast to her friends. They had it covered.

“Drink a toast to the honest and fair administration of this city!” said Protasion. “You had had it proved that your fears are unjustified.”

A selection of young men with bottles demanding that the orator should drink a toast with them, and not taking no for an answer, was an excuse to lock him up as drunk and disorderly.

He was still hungover when a trógling cut through the floor of his cell.

“You said a lot of things others would not say,” said Dron. “Come with me.”

Convobulos followed. He might not be thoroughly satisfied to have made so puny a convert, but getting out of prison was good.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked.

“To meet some of your colleagues,” said Dron.

Convobulos was startled when Dron suddenly disappeared, unaware that there were secret exits in the passage he was in; and he pushed forward with his feeble lamp and fell into a bridge caisson which is where the trógling had lured the last of the nekrosti, to fall apart in due course. They had not yet managed to completely disintegrate; but they were able to disintegrate Convobulos fairly successfully. After all, they were, after a fashion, colleagues of his. Dron’s philosophy ran that those who have truck with the undead should not complain if they fall foul of them.

He had made a neat job of mending the prison floor, but left the passage there.

You never know when a way out of a prison came in useful.

Convobulos was a wanted man, of course, for a prison break, but the word went round that he was not going to be found.

 

oOoOo

 

The last of the bloodsuckers in Selenopolis was tracked down and killed on the dark of the red moon, his power at lowest ebb, even if sustained by Selen herself. Ralthur handed over control of the temple to another Alethosi priest-lord, from the time when the worship of Alethos was not banned in the Empire, before Alethos made his displeasure felt about the death glyph being used as a means of execution. Ralthur returned to Mesolimnos to quietly marry Sjorgi without fanfare, surrounded only by friends and family. The party went on late. Kaz went out for a breath of air, and came back in, frowning.

“There should be a sickle moon tonight, of the Blood Moon,” she said. “The ravaged blue moon is clear enough, so it isn’t cloud cover; normally you get a glow at least.”

“I suppose it’s too much to hope for that whipping away her power base has made her collapse and die?” said Protasion.

“Unfortunately, unlikely,” said Kaz. “I know what Rogaz and I have to do, and it isn’t yet. I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I have calculations about when, too, and it isn’t yet,” said Protasion.

 

Kaz continued in her bad feeling, and asked Alethos to spend the next night with her; which was also bereft of any sign of the red moon.  Some people were celebrating this, but Kaz was not among them. Alethos, well aware that any chicanery on the part of Selen would have Kaz needing all her wits about her, distracted her until she slept.

Kaz awoke, screaming at dawn; and she and Alethos found themselves dragged to the place of the dead.

Thyella also awoke.

“New volcano! Got to go,” she said to Harkon.

Harkon sat up.  He went looking for Kaz, and found her gone, Iphianira sobbing in the arms of her nursemaid.

“Oh, crap,” said Harkon.

Outside, it was still dark.

And the reason it was still dark was that the moondisk of the red moon was in front of the sun disk, the sickle of its waxing glowing triumphantly.

It did not take Harkon long to realise that a new volcano had killed Trógling somewhere, and he flitted to the halls of the dead to support Kaz, as Alethos was likely to be too busy.

Kaz was already there; also Daze, looking triumphant, Rogaz, angry, and Tor.

Tor scowled.

“You! You stole my wife away!”

“Zog’s a friend of mine,” said Harkon.

Tor stared.

“You mean it wasn’t political?”

“Pollonis is a friend of mine too,” said Harkon. “But I’m a sucker for a man in love.”

Tor assimilated this, then put back his head, and laughed.

“Well, I can forgive a slight done in friendship,” he said. “Truth to tell, she was getting rather whiny anyway. Put it here.” He held out a hand.

“I’d be more willing if you weren’t chaos tainted,” said Harkon.

“What? You dare call me chaos tainted?”

“You use undead.”

“I don’t do the same as that bitch,” said Tor.

“Dead should be dead,” said Harkon.

“Bodies left over are no more than dead meat,” said Tor. “Depths of Hell! Have I been quarrelling for all time with Alethos because he thinks my people bind back the souls?”

“It’s what happens, to an extent, with nekrosti, which are mindless, but the soul is trapped,” said Harkon, reaching mentally to Alethos to share this.

“Not mine,” said Tor. “I animate the bodies only, and it’s considered an honour; and they rot down to become skeletons, not held in chaos stasis without rotting like hers.”

“That... makes a difference,” said Harkon. “Perhaps, to avoid being associated with her, you could agree to only using them as temple guards?”

“I suppose so,” said Tor.

Harkon took his big hand. The handshake was very rough, but then, Harkon had known it would be.

“That was well negotiated,” said Alethos. “I do believe that he was unaware that some of his undead of recent times had their souls trapped.”

Harkon went to stand with Kaz, who looked sick with apprehension.

“She pulled up a volcano in the middle, I surmise, of a Toróg settlement,” he told her.

“Oh! That explains why suddenly I heard voices cry out in brief terror and pain which then became calls for me to be here for them,” said Kaz. “Alethos is sorting the souls, and reminding trógling that they now come to me by default, and must choose if they wish another god. Daze is going to be disappointed.”

Alethos came forward with souls, toróg of all kinds, most of the high toróg going to Rogaz, some darklings and most great toróg to Tor.

As trógling souls clustered by Kaz, a few going to Rogaz or Tor, Daze looked outraged.

“Where are mine?” he demanded.  “This cannot be, that settlement was isolated enough that they should not have heard of this upstart godling! I made them, they belong to me by default!”

“They belong to the mother of trógling by default,” said Alethos. “As has been prophesied since the dawn of time.”

“No! It was a sacrifice to get their power!” cried Daze. “A beautiful plan, and the sacrifice of all those nasty little wretches to be mine! You shan’t have them!” he lunged towards Kaz, who herded her souls behind him.

Tor hit him on the nose.

“You made them, hah? You admit it, you filthy chaos scum!  I will rend you limb from limb!”

Daze, horrified, made good his mistake, and fled.

“That, O, Tor, is my job, when the time is right,” said Kaz. “One who was made by him must be the one to undo him.”

“I don’t do all this mystical shit,” said Tor, truculently.

“Then our cause is lost, and the blue moon will never be healed,” snapped Kaz.

“Listen to the Daykaz!” said Rogaz.

“She’s the Daykaz? I could swallow her whole!” said Tor.

“I doubt it,” said Kaz. “I am the child of prophecy who lives forever and desires death; and all the signs have been fulfilled. This adventure by Selen we did not anticipate.”

“It was in one of the old texts,” said Harkon, reluctantly. “Protasion was having conniptions over how it fitted in, and decided it was an allegory; ‘When the light of the sun is blocked by the moon, then shall the dawning know that the days of the trickster are numbered, and the number is found in her recovery from the act of violence; for her power must be full before she can be destroyed.’ We were counting down from her losing Aima, but it is the fact of using power to do this. I’ll have to go over it again with him, but I suspect that will mean the year round since you last confronted him, on the solstice again.”

“I suppose we have a timeline at least,” said Kaz. “You were going to tell me at what point?”

“Closer to the time,” sighed Harkon. “We thought it would be the equinox. But the full moon is the day after that; it actually falls on the solstice.”

Kaz sighed. She had souls to see to.

Harkon loaned power to help Kaz get her new acquisitions stowed in their halls next to those of Alethos.

Thyella turned up.

“Harkon, we have to get the skybull and skycow to help drag Selen’s moonboat from in front of the sun!” she gasped. “She is holding his light to ransom, having lurked in the nightsphere for two nights to gather her power to block him off!

 

Destiny's Queen 17

 

Chapter 17

 

The wedding was officiated over by Chrysandion Lightspear, Lightfather of Solos. Pollonis stood as groomsman to his son, as Alethos insisted on giving the bride away. Kaz was matron of honour, with supporters in Lelyn, Sjurgi, Thyella, Svargia, Vanda, Polia, and Hraazaz, who claimed her place as mother of the bride. Firri was chief flower-girl in charge of Alcmene, Chionea, and Iphianira. Alcmene had settled in very well, and was proud of her big sister, Rynn, and busy forgetting that she had ever had any parents but Hraazaz, who treated her reborn daughter better than the child’s own mother had done. The wedding was political in many ways; it showed the acceptance of shadow folk and an agreement with representatives of darkness. Chrysandion, not entirely used to officiating at weddings where gods and goddesses were participants and guests, looked as if he wished he had drunk more wine.  Polos, Mycota and Zog were there, as well as Harkon, though he was playing down his weather god aspect, Vulk too, was not advertising his apotheosis;  and a shaft of pure sunlight from Solos on the bride and groom as they exchanged vows showed he was taking notice. Protasion was also back from Selenopolis, as he, Evgon and Kuros did not wish to miss the weddings of their long-time friends and comrades in arms. Ralthur had stayed to lick the local Alethosi in Selenopolis into shape. It is a measure of the modesty of the young couple that the majority of those who turned out to gawp, and probably to hope for free food, did not know that they had destroyed the goddess of the bloodsuckers who were still being hunted down by Alethosi, mostly trógling, allied with Solosi or Pollonisi, who knew the glyph spells of sunburst or sunsphere where the bloodsuckers and their minions had found refuge in less frequented drain courses. These draincourses were mostly fairly miserable, as they were not used by the trógling for good reason; and the city fathers assisted the cleansing of them of undead as well as waste by regular flushing.

 

Most people in the city did appreciate the hard work of both Alethosi cultists, and the sun cultists, so when a supposed prophet turned up declaiming that the Alethosi were evil, and intended extracting swingeing taxes for their support, he got laughed at, or told that the cultists would be welcome to be paid.

However, there was magic in his voice, and enough people listened to make up an ugly crowd.

Pythas called a meeting.

“Have we got rid of all the undead?” he asked.

“There are a few nekrosti, decaying a bit at the time,” said Svargia. “I saw a few somewhat soiled ones flushed out with the last drain clearing. I think we got rid of all the bloodsuckers. The worst problem is displaced Selenites acting as footpads, in and out of the city.”

“Fine,” said Pythas.

He went out to the crowd of malcontents.

“As you are discontented with what we do, we shall no longer interfere in events in the city,” he said. “I have posters declaring this, which will be distributed throughout the city.”

He was greeted with a cheer.

“The fools think they have won some victory,” said Polia, grimly.

The posters were distributed. And some of the senior burghers came to see Pythas.

“My Lord Pythas, we are here to beg you not to withdraw patrols!” cried Sanlos, head of the haberdasher’s guild. “There are thieves and footpads!”

“Master Sanlos,” said Pythas, “There is a movement against us afoot, stirred up by someone who is almost certainly a glyph-riddler of the Trickster. They will not be persuaded without personal proof that we make life safer.”

“All very well, Lord Pythas, but what of those of us who see through his twaddle? Are we to be unsafe? That is scarcely fair, to punish those who are your friends and allies, and would not blink at paying a tax towards the maintenance of your temple,” said Sanlos. His confederates nodded, and made noises of agreement. “I have a chest of gold to pay you to resume work.”

“I cannot prevent members of the cult from accepting positions as bodyguards, you know,” said Pythas. “Private arrangements are between them and their employer or employers. And if that covered security checks on guild members who were not part of the silly squad, why, that would be part of the contract, and though it might cost some gold, it would be invaluable in teaching a salutary lesson, which mere resumption of service would not. And I recognised a haberdasher and two greengrocers in the crowd, gentlemen, so be sure and only provide protective cover to those who do not want the Alethosi out.”

“I see!” said Sanlos. “My lord, you are a truly great man in turning down a considerable bribe in order to make a greater lesson.”

“I’m a simple man of simple needs,” said Pythas. “And most of my best people are, as well. And they know better than to interfere, if contracted by you, in the troubles of others. It will be hard, but lessons sometimes need to be driven in with force.”

It took the week round, ten days, for the mayor of Mesolimnos to come to see Pythas.

“It is preposterous, my Lord Pythas!” he cried, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “The level of crime has burgeoned since you withdrew the patrols from the streets! You have an obligation to fulfil, and you should fulfil it!”

“Strictly speaking, good Pempios Zorb,” said Pythas, “There is no obligation for my people to patrol the streets at all. It is a courtesy which we extended when the Selenites, who had taken law enforcement upon themselves when they moved in, were evicted from the city, to relieve the militia. It was done as a favour. But we have been petitioned not to interfere in the city, so we have bowed to the voice of the populous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pythas!” said Pempios Zorb. “We all know it’s the fault of that fellow Myopsos, stirring people up. I have him under arrest for being an agent of organised crime. Anyone with any sense knows he’s no more than an agent of the Trickster.”

“Oh, well done,” said Pythas. “Hold onto that at his trial, that he stirred up trouble against patrols in order to facilitate crime, not for political reasons. And any supporters, too, of course, questioned roughly about how long they’ve been affiliated to crime. If I was you, I’d send out tax audits on all his supporters to see if they are living on the proceeds of crime, as they want to support the criminals. And not a word about politics, the Trickster, or Selenites. It won’t be long before those in his thrall realise that they have been duped; and in the meantime, my people are collecting information about the criminal gangs operating, and once this nonsense has run its course, we’ll wipe them out.”

“Oh!” said Pempios Zorb. “I... I should have trusted that you had it under control. Only, the people are restive about why we haven’t crushed the movement against you, and....”

“But you are, my friend,” said Pythas. “You’ve arrested a master criminal who has been making life easier for his criminal friends, and you are going to investigate all his associates for complicity.”

A beatific smile spread across the face of the mayor.

“You have saved my face,” he said. “And when will you fall on these villains?”

“On Deathday,” said Pythas. “A religious celebration, as you might say.”

“Splendid!” beamed the mayor.

 

oOoOo

 

Kaz was in the market with Iphianira, when something made her look up; an acute sense of lack of truth slammed into her.

Looking over an upper balcony was Myopsos. Kaz let her eyes pass over him without apparent recognition. He looked relieved. Kaz completed her purchases, and headed to the town hall.

“I want to see Pempios Zorb,” she said.

“What makes you think the mayor will see some random trogling?” said the secretary on duty.

“For one, you ignorant lump, it’s trógling. For another, you can tell him that Glyph Lord-Priest Daykaz of Alethos wants to see him, and fast; and for a third, remember that trógling also pay taxes to the city and pay for your sinecure of a job which means you are paid to do more than sit around all day scratching your balls and dreaming of scoring with one of Phrodine’s sacred prostitutes,” said Kaz, crisply.

“You can’t talk to me like that!”

“Funny, I thought I just did,” said Kaz. “Now, go and see when Pempios will be free, and remember that Alethosi have short tempers and long swords.”

He sneered.

He stopped sneering when the iron sword appeared at his throat. The scent of the iron caught in his nose and he suddenly realised that this really was a glyph-level person.

“Now. Not tomorrow or next week,” said Kaz.

He backed away and ran.

“I hate these endless discussions,” said Kaz, to nobody in particular.

Pempios came out of his office at a scuttling run, expecting to find carnage, from the panicked description of his secretary. Instead, he found Kaz seated calmly in the secretary’s seat, playing patacake with Iphianira.

“Ah, Pempios, old boy,” said Kaz. “You really should have someone who is not fresh out of his tutor’s care and still tied to his mother’s apron strings as a secretary; unless the real secretary slipped off leaving the trainee on the desk? The idiot doesn’t seem to think you’d want to see a trógling, and can’t even pronounce it properly; I would hate to see him brushing off someone who came to report a crack in a sewer pipe so that nothing was done before it burst into the street, for example.”

“Er, yes, quite, quite, my lady,” said Pempios. “I... I’ll have him instructed properly.” He mopped his sweating brow. Rumour had it that this trógling was more than a glyph lord-priest and was a heroine; and some said, a goddess.

“Splendid,” said Kaz. “Now, we have a serious problem.”

“Oh, dear,” said Pempios. “Er... is it a problem for my office or one of immediate action?”

“We might as well start in your office,” said Kaz. “I do apologise for bringing my daughter, only I had her with me when I felt I should come directly to you with a report.”

“A fine little girl,” said Pempios, heartily, ushering Kaz into his office. “I was convinced she was younger than that.”

“She was born at the end of winter, but you know how it is with the children of gods, they develop remarkably quickly,” said Kaz. “Her father is hoping she will be holding a sword by this time next year.”

“Er, I see,” said Pempios. “I... I must have missed your wedding....”

“It was a quiet affair, between Alethosi,” said Kaz. “Alethos is a very private man, and did not want more than those closest to him to be involved; Pythas married us.”

“Oh! Er, yes, er, quite,” said Pempios, sweating more. “You... you must be the Daykaz then!”

“Yes, but I only dust it off for best,” said Kaz. “Now! I need to come to the point. I saw Myopsos in town. And I know he hasn’t come before the courts yet.”

Pempios mopped his brow on his already sodden kerchief. Kaz leaned over to touch it, and it was instantly dry, clean-smelling and cooled.

“I... thank you,” said Pempios. “He... I have the men in custody. He managed to set two guards quarrelling with each other and talked one of them into letting him out.”

“Oh crap,” said Kaz.

Pempios was so relieved that the little deity before him could be coarse that he laughed ruefully.

“I said much the same,” he said.

“I don’t suppose the little riddler will be where I saw him, I feigned not to recognise him, but in his shoes, I’d move,” said Kaz. “However, he did set off my truthsense as being a farrago of lies just by existing; so perhaps a combined operation with us and those Pollonisi who have the skill might flush him out.”

“And if not him, then other riddlers,” said Pempios. “It’s a good thought. I’d like to get him back under lock and key.  Why don’t you raise all the Alethosi capable, and I’ll go have a word with Chrysandion Lightspear?”

“I’d be grateful,” said Kaz. “Iphianira is getting fractious; it’s time for her nap. I was expecting to be back in the temple long since.”

“I remember when mine were that age... level of development. It’s good to know godlings go through it as well,” said Pempios.

“And equally true is how daughters wind their daddies round their tiny fingers,” said Kaz, cheerfully.

“You must bring her to meet my wife one of these days,” said Pempios.

“Delighted!” said Kaz, hoping it would not be too much of a trial.

 

Fourteen truth-tellers were mustered, and started at the city walls and worked inward. When two recognised that they were both sensing in an area which overlapped, they both blew whistles; and half a dozen converged on a single house, that of one of the weak-minded greengrocers, who made such a fuss about having his house searched for a known fugitive that they took him in too, as likely in cahoots with gangs of criminals.

This time, Myopsos was guarded only by those who could sense truth, to avoid being caught out by his half-truths and lies.

He finally got his day in court.

“I wish to protest a corrupt system that has been paid off to punish me for my beliefs,” he said.

Chrysandion, as judge, stripped his shoulders bare to show the mystically attached glyph of truth.

“Come place your hand on the symbol of truth in front of you, and swear that you believe the representative of a god of truth to be corrupt,” he said. “If you speak truth, I will be struck down; but if you deliberately lie, you will be struck down.”

“I... I was told this court was corrupt,” said Myopsos.

“You were told incorrectly,” said Chrysandion, coldly. “As to your beliefs, I scarcely see what that has to do with anything.”

“I am arraigned here for my worship!” cried Myopsos.

“Hardly,” said Chrysandion. “You are arraigned for aiding and abetting sundry gangs of thieves and cut-throats.”

“Huh?” said Myopsos.

“Did you, or did you not incite a crowd to protest the patrols of Alethosi warriors about the city?” demanded Chrysandion.

“It’s a calumny! I never did anything that was not my civic duty.... OW!” the truth glyph burned him.

“Yes or no will do; I can bring a number of witnesses who saw and heard you whipping up a crowd to fever-pitch,” said Chrysandion.

“It is necessary to show up... ow, ow, OW!” squealed Myopsos.

“Therefore, plainly you did incite citizens thus,” said Chrysandion. “And there can be no other reason than to aid criminal elements. There will be mercy given if you feel like revealing which of the criminal gangs you support, and where they might be arrested.”

“I have nothing to say,” growled Myopsos.

“Then I sentence you to five years as indentured servitude to make restitution, in a coffle of other brigands. And rest assured, we shall catch your confederates,” said Chrysandion.

He rightly guessed that the use of the power-draining slave bracelets used for criminals in indentured servitude would reduce the man’s ability to sow discord.