Destiny's Queen

 

Chapter 23

 

Hraazaz duly went into labour on the first day of Winterscome, in the dark of the Red Moon, and in the rays of the Blue Moon. Alethos and Tor turned up.

“Had to bring him, did you?” said Kaz, to her husband.

“Fatherhood supportive role,” said Alethos, gravely.

“I am not a coward,” said Tor.

“No, and you can bravely stroke her hair, hold her hands, and let her swear at you,” said Kaz.

“Damn, you’re offensive,” said Tor, doing as he was bid.

“I love her that way,” said Alethos.

“She’s always been like that,” said Hraazaz. “I like her that way, too.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like her that way,” said Tor. “Just mentioning it.”

The baby was born with a minimum of fuss.

“This is what was normal before the Red Moon,” said Hraazaz, feeding her son. “I’m calling him Kazor, to honour the first person who was my friend without wanting anything.”

 

oOoOo

 

“I hoped I’d be more blasé for this one,” said Kaz, to Alethos.

“I don’t think it’s possible to be blasé about being Fate’s pawn, my love,” said Alethos. “I am sure you will make a great job of it, but I also know that doesn’t help you right now.”

“At least this time we are in the same time, and you know who I am,” said Kaz. “It was extremely scary not having your presence more or less constantly with me.”

“And you completed that very well,” said Alethos. “No reason to think you won’t... no, that isn’t comforting, is it?”

“Last time I was risking my life and soul,” said Kaz, soberly. “And this time, the captive trógling of all time depend on me to rescue them. I learned a lot, unravelling the Trickster’s magic; he delights in the suffering of others, and derives sustenance from it. This I could almost taste.”

“Well, then, you will succeed because others depend on you,” said Alethos. “Because you always complete your duty.”

Kaz sighed.

“I always do my best.”

“Your best is spectacular.  Remember, he still doesn’t really know how capable you are; he still has this preconceived idea about trógling.”

“It’s an advantage,” agreed Kaz. “I need to be distracted.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Alethos.

“Your best is very agreeable,” purred Kaz.

 

oOoOo

 

Skulos had actually proven very co-operative.

“I don’t want to kill people,” he said to Pythas. “I hate blood and I hate killing. You probably despise me for that as a Glyph lord of a death god.”

“On the contrary, if that’s how you feel, I honour your honesty and bravery in confessing it. I suppose there’s an obvious question; why are you an assassin and boasting of being the best?”

“Because of Him,” said Skulos.  “Because though part of me has been revelling in being the best, part of me was dying inside. Because as I make a kill, that part of me inside wakes up and I want to vomit, and that makes him laugh, and... and I think it gives him power. I know another assassin, named Hallia, who was abused by her stepfather and raped over and over from the age of eight; and when she became Enlightened, He turned her into a killer who seduces men to find out about her mark and to get close to the one who is to be killed, and I wouldn’t mind betting that her awareness is of what has been done to her body. He trained her himself,” he added.

“I’ll pass this on to have her brought here, and unriddled,” said Pythas.

“She’ll probably kill herself,” said Skulos.

“That’s her choice, and it can be made easy if she wants to; but I’ll want her to worship another god, almost any other god, so she has protection.”

“I’m fine with Alethos; everyone dies, and I owe him something for making too much work for him,” shrugged Skulos.  “I don’t much care if I live or die, now, at least I’m free, and I don’t have to kill anyone any more.”

“Feel up to being a spy?” asked Pythas.

“I can do that,” said Skulos.

 

Pythas had Myopsos brought to him from the work coffle.

“So, what is it that the Trickster made you do that you hate?”

Myopsos collapsed into sobs.

“I hate arguments and raised voices,” he said. “And I hate crowds and talking to people. And... and I hate having to be chained to nineteen other people who hate me and shout at me.”

“Now you got that off your chest, I’ll arrange for you to be my orderly for the rest of your sentence,” said Pythas. “I shout on the parade ground, but it doesn’t mean anything.”

Myopsos knelt and kissed his feet.

 

oOoOo

 

Sjurgi brought in Hallia. She was a spy as well as an assassin, and there was information on her gleaned from Clodax Dren.

Kaz travelled in to question the woman, who was beautiful, a figure full enough to please most men, but with underlying muscle.

Kaz felt sick. What she was about to do would destroy the ego of the woman in front of her, as it had done for Skulos and Myopsos; but there was worse damage for this one to feel.  But it had to be done.  And this one had been... trained... by Daze, personally.

“What riddle brought you enlightenment?” asked Kaz.

“If memory brings pain, what displaces it?” said Hallia. The question seemed to prompt those riddled by Daze.

“And your answer?”

“Forgetfulness,” said Hallia.

“It doesn’t, does it?” said Kaz. “Every time the memories come back sharper than before. When memory brings pain, examining the pain and replacing it with new experience displaces it.”

Hallia stared, as Kaz was also quietly disassembling the bonds of the riddle. Then she started screaming and reached with her nails to scratch at her face and bosom.

Kaz caught her hands, and bore them down.

“Talk to me about it and get the pain into the open, like lancing a boil or a whitlow,” she said, using her charisma. “Let it all out. Scream, cry all you want, but bring up that poison and let us flush it away. I am here. Sjurgi is here. We hear your pain, we live it with you, and if, when all that festers is out in the open, you still want to mutilate yourself, or kill yourself, that is your business. So long as you pray to any other god but the Trickster, or he will take your soul and do it all over again.”

It took many hours for Hallia to sob out her story; about her stepfather’s ‘little games,’ and their ‘special little secret.’ About how her mother would not believe her when she sobbed out what had happened, and whipped her for lying. And how she had run away, and met a riddler, who brought her to what she fondly believed was a way of believing, and how Daze himself had appeared to her, and told her that she must confront her fears to overcome them. He had place a spell on her so that she could not tell the difference between pleasure and pain, enhancing both, and tortured her whilst he violated her, and made her beg for more.

“Crap!” said Kaz. “Alethos! I need help here; I don’t know how to untinker a spell like that.”

“Nor do I,” said Alethos, turning up. “What a sick bastard the Trickster is!  I’ll go see if I can find anyone who can help; maybe Latrika and Phrodine together.”

“What about Zeandine? She doesn’t like us much but she is a carnal goddess...” said Kaz. Alethos snorted.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with a brain if she had one herself,” he said.

“Miaow,” said Kaz. “But, alas, accurate,”

 

Latrika and Phrodine turned up.

“You’ll have to do it, Daykaz,” said Latrika. “You’re the only one who understands how to undo the spells of that sick, crazy god. You need to quest into Hallia’s own mind and find where he has set up a maze with a short cut across from the part that feels pain to the part that feels pleasure.”

Kaz gulped.

“Must I?” she asked.

“Kaz,” said Alethos, “I sense that this will help you free the trógling; I think when you fight him, you will be unravelling the maze of his own mind where he stores them.”

The chime reiterated this, and Kaz sighed.

“Take her if I fail and kill her; she is half swooning and does not know to abjure him and embrace you as a god,” said Kaz.

“I abjure Daze!” said Hallia, firmly. “I give my worship to the Daykaz, whom he fears.”

Latrika fed both a potion to help relax them; it was not like entering the spirit plane to battle spirits, nor the god plane for worship, but akin. And Kaz let her spirit slip out of her body, tethered securely as it was, and plunge into the seething, roiling consciousness which was Hallia, disjointed images of the woman’s childhood terror and pain, the torture of reliving that every time she slept with someone in doing her job, and the pleasure beyond pleasure allied with exquisite torture of Daze’s training. Kaz came to know that the god of trickery chose mortals to subject to this, those damaged enough to have triggers he could use, words and phrases to reduce them to abject, terrified obedience. These he could treat as he did not dare treat his sister. These he savoured to sate lusts even Selen did not know about. And he drained power from them even as they did not know whether to scream in agony or seek release in pleasure.

Kaz found the bridge; and slowly, slowly she dismantled it. If she went too fast she might destroy the ability of Hallia to feel either pain or pleasure; and whilst it was dangerous to be unable to feel pain, it was wrong to deprive her of pleasure, which covered more than sexual pleasure.

At long last it was done, the goddesses tending the whimpering Hallia.  Kaz’s spirit returned to her body as if shot from a bow, and she half woke before toppling sideways in a swoon. She did not hear the triumphant chime.

“Sleep, Hallia, without dreams,” said Latrika. “Spend a week with Sjurgi, learning what she has been through, and help her help others. And then, and only then, you shall decide whether you want to take the path to onward to death, and in that, you will receive help. If you want to live, and fight Daze and his works, you will receive aid in that, too.”

 

oOoOo

 

Kaz awoke in bed with Alethos.

She clung to him and sobbed.

“I will have to do that over and over,” she gasped in horror. “Those he has damaged whom he has.”

“And every time you do so, you will learn more about him, to dismantle the construct he has made to imprison people,” said Alethos. “And you will remember this woman, and those others, when the cowardly little bastard begs for your mercy.”

There was a sudden chime.

“That,” said Kaz, waspishly, “Was altogether too chirpy a sound to endear me to your mother.”

“You’ll forgive her,” said Alethos.

“Yes, I know, but not yet,” said Kaz.

“Skulos told Pythas that he does not think that there are many riddlers out there at any one time,” said Alethos. “We may have those bound closest to Daze.”

“If not, I should think the riddling will fall apart naturally when he is dead, and if we put it about that help is available to rebuild lives, I think we should have the rest,” said Kaz. “He’s the pettiest, meanest creature I have ever known, and I’ve known a few mean greater toróg, and inadequate darklings who like to pass on their own misery.”

“Yes; he’s imaginative with it,” said Alethos, grimly. “I don’t think I have ever come across anyone I find so utterly loathsome. Even during the hottest days of my struggle with Tor, even despising him for using undead – which I admit to misunderstanding, though I still don’t like it – I never despised him or loathed him with the same visceral revulsion I feel for the Trickster.”

 “I’m not alone in that, then,” said Kaz.

Alethos made a sound of disgust.

“Gods don’t usually vomit, but he brought me close,” he said. “The whole idea of making that poor woman go through what she fears over and over is bad enough; confusing her with what is pleasure and what is pain is just adding iniquity to the already appalling. I want to go and rip him apart, but I know I cannot do so, or all fails.  But you, my right hand, you can do it for me.”

“I will,” said Kaz, soberly. “And I will be pitiless.”

 

oOoOo

 

Erytheon touched his wife’s gong as she went to sound it, muffling it.

“No, dear,” he said. “Leave her be this once.”

Moraia pouted.

“It’s my job...”

“To encourage. Not to irritate.”

“Well, in that case, you had better distract me.”

“Of course, divine one,” said Erytheon.

 

Destiny's Queen 22

 spoke too soon yesterday. Mosquito bites, fever. Noncoherent day 

Chapter 22

 

Daze winced as one of his illusions was broken through by someone, and dissipated; it always stung when an illusion was broken. And then the whole construct has been broken apart; and he yelped in real pain. Still, the illusory beasts had drawn them off to the battlements, there would be no guards on his quarry. He hurried into the halls of healing, looking nondescript, and looked into the minds of those on their daily business to find the room of the toróg woman. Quickly, he went there.

She was awake. That made it harder.

“Looking for someone?” he heard the voice rumbling, and turned as he entered the room.

The hulking figure of Tor loomed, menacingly. His grin was feral.

Daze gave a falsetto squeal, and fled, leaping for the safety of the moonsphere as soon as he was outside.

Selen’s approval was not worth facing Tor. Or explaining that he was only there to kill the toróg god’s daughter.

Daze would have been amazed had he seen Tor, earlier, with Alcmene sitting on his lap, showing how well she was learning the toróg language by singing nursery rhymes to him.  Hraazaz had asked him to keep an eye on her adoptive daughter as he was used to rearing girls. Somebody had apparently told her that Tor was as butter in the hands of little girls because he was afraid of hurting them.

It might be said that when Kaz found out, she introduced him to Iphianira.

It would be hard for gods to feud when a small girl called one of them ‘daddy’ and the other ‘uncle.’ Kaz had no idea that one of the prophecies about her called her ‘the warlord peacemaker.’

 

oOoOo

 

“You didn’t do it, did you?” snapped Selen.

“Someone ripped up my illusions, and Tor was there!” said Daze. “He had come to drag Errilaz back into captivity,” he added, making things up as he went along. “Give it a little time and she’ll be begging to come back to you, and, moreover, it disrupts the plans of Alethos. How can Errilaz aid the Daykaz, who is part of the Alethosi pantheon, if Errilaz is with Tor? The day Tor and Alethos have a civil conversation, volcanic magma will freeze.”

“Oh, good point,” purred Selen. “And it’s no doing of yours, just blind luck. So don’t look smug.”

“No, my dear, I was just pleased at the way it worked out.”

“Now I have time to heal, and recoup my power, it’s not easy with the loss of worshippers in Selenopolis; and they have renamed it, can you believe that? They are calling it Ombrosopolis after that bastard storm god!”

“Don’t let yourself get upset,” soothed Daze. “We can re-take it in our own good time.”

Daze was unaware that the growing army of rebels was taking nearby Selenite towns and cities quickly, before the troops pulled out of them by Selen’s magic could make their footsore and weary ways back home. Those that survived starvation and disease.

oOoOo

 

 “Check,” said Alethos. “Actually, I think it’s checkmate.”

“You crafty bastard,” said Tor. “You are damned sneaky for a god of truth.”

“I made every move openly,” said Alethos.

“Huh! I could learn from that,” said Tor.

“Good; those of us who can learn and adapt will survive into the new age,” said Alethos. “I am glad we have a new understanding.”

“Blame your wife,” grunted Tor. “Same time next week?”

“Looking forward to it.”

“It was a good game. There aren’t any people who will give me a game; the sunlings won’t have anything to do with a darkness god, and half the rest assume that if I start losing, I’ll go full berserker and smash up the pieces and the board.”

“You do have a berserker glyph-spell.

“Certainly; a berserk high toróg is an army in himself. My people don’t mind if they die because they come to feast in my halls, and I only attract those who genuinely don’t care. You attract some of the idiots who just want the training.”

Alethos shrugged.

“Sadly, yes; on the other hand, I also take the default souls that have nobody, and until Kaz took over, I took what trógling I could, rather than their nominal creator. He always wears the form of a short, and smiling darkling, and some fear him less.”

Tor growled.

“I’ve been taking more notice of trógling. I had one who made glyph lord, and even a berserk trógling is good for taking out half a dozen.”

“I prefer mine with enough thoughts intact to do inventive things with cantrips.”

“You can’t do anything with cantrips.”

“No? Kaz folded a bloodsucker in his own cloak once, giving Harkon the chance to deal with him. She wrung a temple spirit, and turned a rather soapy Nekrost into pure soap. It was hilarious. Overpowered cantrips can be handy.”

“Well, I never! I must remember that.”

 

oOoOo

 

“Kaz, I think I’m pregnant,” said Hraazaz, blushing deep purple. “Will you midwife for me, when I’m due?”

“Of course,” said Kaz. “Uh, now might be a good time to ask something I’ve often wondered... when high toróg are pregnant, do you have the extra....” she waved her hands graphically, “For a reason?”

“It’s cultural,” said Hraazaz. “Usually we have twins, but because females are the dominant sex and do most of the hunting and defending, one female is designated the carer for all the babies in a family, and must be able to feed them. Single children are not uncommon, especially nowadays, but the father is, er...”

“You’ve been getting on very well with Tor,” said Kaz.  “May I scan?”

“Yes, please do; it’s hard to do to oneself.”

“Looks like just one, to me; a boy,” said Kaz. “Just about developed enough for me to see. I doubt you’ll have a full year’s gestation.”

“Er, no, probably not,” said Hraazaz. “Really? He... he said he’d never had a son... I think he would like one... I should like to please him.”

“Alcmene will like having a baby brother,” said Kaz. “Well, go and tell him!”

“Er, yes,” said Hraazaz. “If he wants to celebrate, will you take care of Alcmene until I get back?”

“Of course,” said Kaz.  “I’m kicking my heels a bit whilst Their Trickinesses lick their wounds, whine about how unfair the world is, and build up their power for us to tackle.”

“It’s all right to be scared,” said Hraazaz. “I am, too.”

Kaz embraced her.

 

Harvest was almost over; Errilaz was up and about, disclosing all she knew about Selen’s domain, and the leaves on the trees started to turn colour. Kaz liked to see the new colours come, no two the same. Her ability to see colour was less full than humans, but was considerably more than toróg. She liked to look out over the battlements and see what was left of the woods after the Selenites had cut so much down. It would take years to replace.

Kaz was glad for Hraazaz, and hoped that her friend was happy; Tor certainly seemed more... mellow. Hopefully a godling might be born and Hraazaz recovered before they must confront Selen. Hraazaz was eating more or less constantly, and Latrika herself was monitoring her health. Kaz was glad. Lelyn was very close to her time, and so was Thyella, whose theory was that her son would be born in the first equinoctial storm.

Well, the women of Kaz’s group rallied round each other.

“Kaz?” Lelyn had joined her.

“You managed all those stairs?” said Kaz.

“I remember you saying, ‘I’m pregnant, not sick,’ so you can’t talk,” said Lelyn. “I wanted some air. I’ve been having a few contractions but not close enough for it to be imminent.”

“Well, if you give birth up here, I guess it will be a womb with a view,” said Kaz. Lelyn poked her.

“I’m not sure if I’m glad to be having an ordinary pregnancy, not a divine one; it’s dragging on, but then, I’m not having to eat constantly just to survive the hurried rate of a divine pregnancy.”

“Thyella reckons that ambrosia helps,” said Kaz. “It’s moderately disgusting, but whether that’s because  was mortal when I tried some, or because it tastes different to toróg I don’t know.”

“Or a bit of both,” said Lelyn. “Give me a hand to get down, I feel a bit odd... oh!” she changed colour. “My waters just broke.”

Kaz picked her taller friend up and shadow walked to the temple hospital, and called for Lelyn’s mother.

Protasion turned up as well, and held Lelyn’s hand, and deftly shoved his sword belt between her teeth when she tried to bite his hand and hers.

 

Some hours later, and a lot of military language, which nobody heeded,  Lelyn and Protasion’s son was born, red in the face and yelling in protest.  Once the afterbirth was delivered – Protasion laid down the law for once and demanded that Lelyn give one more push -  their son washed and wrapped, and Lelyn, exhausted but elated, was able to feed him.

“Had you thought of a name?” asked Kaz.

“We thought we’d honour his maternal grandfather, without using Pythas’s name and call him Pythion,” said Protasion.

“Hail, Pythion,” said Kaz.

Alethos turned up.

“Hail, Pythion,” he said. He placed the hilt of his own sword into the infant’s hand, and watched the tiny hand curl around it.

“We are honoured,” said Protasion.

“No, little brother, we are family,” said Alethos.

 

oOoOo

 

Thyella was right about the birth of her child.

The first equinoctial gale of the year slammed into the city like a battering ram, shaking every building before the complexity of the streets broke up the blast, and Thyella yelped.

“Harkon! He should be born out in the storm!” she cried.

“Well, crap,” said Harkon.  He had become accustomed now to hardening air to stand on, and took his wife up into the middle of a whirling circular wind system to deliver their son. He came into the world yelling, and promptly set up a breeze about himself.

“Kataigos,” said Harkon. “Right; let’s get back inside so Chionea can hold her brother.”

Alethos met them, again placing his sword in Kataigos’s hand.

Harkon embraced him.

Mother and son were fed ambrosia to help strengthen them, and went to bed.

“How was it?” asked Alethos.

“No tetchier than usual,” said Harkon. “I think the hail made her will the birth to go faster.”

“It’s an interesting way of doing it,” said Alethos.

“Wet the baby’s head?” suggested Harkon, getting out wine.

“Why not,” said Alethos. Harkon had adapted perhaps best of Kaz’s close associates and adoptive family to thinking of him as a brother, and Alethos liked it.

 

oOoOo

 

“I do not like ambrosia,” said Hraazaz.

“No, nor does Kaz,” said Thyella. “But we don’t want you fading away for the want of the divine sustenance.”

“What’s wrong with truecheese?” said Tor.

“Isn’t it legendary?” asked Hraazaz.

“What’s truecheese?” asked Thyella.

Tor rolled his eyes.

“It’s also called ‘mooncheese,’” he said. “It’s the toróg version of ambrosia; moonlight has to touch the first nectar of the silver star plant, to make truecheese.”

“The silver star has healing properties, Kaz says,” said Thyella.

“I heard she used it to cure Alethos,” said Tor. “I... think I am glad. We have mutual enemies. I’ll get some, for you, Hraazaz; and some for Kaz, who needs building up for her ordeals ahead.”

“Thank you,” said Hraazaz.

 

Tor laughed heartily when he returned and Hraazaz, Kaz, and Thyella sampled the truecheese. Hraazaz and Kaz had a blissful look on their faces, and Thyella pulled a face of disgust.

“Now you know how we feel about ambrosia, Thyella,” said Kaz. “And how heroic we’ve been to consume it.”

“But... but this tastes like.... like Tor’s toecheese!” said Thyella.

“And how would you know that?” asked Hraazaz. “My lord Tor! Have you been playing me false in letting the queen of lightning nibble your toes?”

“Not likely!” said Tor, whose mighty, rumbling laughter was almost like thunder. “I think Harkon might have something to say about that.”

“It was hypothetical,” said Thyella.

“I thought it was cheesy,” said Kaz.  “Well, ambrosia tastes like how old socks smell, and tastes like small birds which are slightly decayed.”[1]

“Really?” gasped Thyella. “To us, it is a divine taste; there are sunlings dedicated to collecting it before the gates of dawn, when the first light of the sun strikes the first dew.”

“To each their own, I guess,” said Kaz.

“How do you know how slightly decayed small birds taste?” asked Thyella.

“Trógling sometimes survive by scavenging carrion,” said Kaz. “My mother was stingy.”

There was a long silence.

“I’ve seen how trógling can be; I have standing orders for my followers,” said Tor.

 

oOoOo

 

Word came from Crondion, now General Crondion, in Selenopolis. He sent his messages through prayer, or what Harkon called, ‘Alethos express,’ which earned him an affectionate cuff to the back of the head from Alethos.

“Some of the front runners of the deserting army have reached the empire, and have happily defected to the new regime,” said Alethos. “Crondion’s a good man, but I would not mind, Ralthur, if you and Sjurgi went to back him up; and you can do hero travel, both of you, to carry missives and suggestions.”

“I will be glad to help sort things out,” said Ralthur. “I might take some supplies and go help some of the struggling deserters and in doing so, help them decide what side they are on.” He was an associate priest of Harkon and Thyella, and could windwalk, as could Sjurgi, which made things easier.

“If you could aim to hit sundry temples to Selen on the solstice, it would help,” said Kaz.  “I have a feeling I will need to go to the Trickster’s mound again.”

“It’s a bit of moon rock,” said Alethos. “It has a mystical connection to the lunarsphere.”

“That explains a lot,” said Kaz. “So, run the maze in the physical world and then the mystical maze of his magical domain to free the trógling souls there.”

“And we will await you with Rogaz to join you in dealing with Selen and her creatures,” said Hraazaz. “At least, I hope so.”

“You will give birth on the first day of Winterscome,” said Tor. “How did I know that?”

“Blame my mother-in-law for that,” said Kaz.

“I do not argue with Fate,” said Tor. “She is older than time and older than toróg.”

 

---

[1] Not ambrosial, but faint canaries?    I could not resist that as a word play.

 

destiny's queen 21

 I got my mojo back and I'm two chapters ahead. And i know how to pace it; on the downside, as well as having a stinking cold, I was dined on overnight by mosquitoes so I feel physically rough

Chapter 21

 

Kaz watched Skulos.

“Which riddle enlightened you?” she asked.

“What is the sound of one hand clapping,” said Skulos, dully. “I saw that the answer was the scream of nothing from the void of chaos.”

“I’m a trógling,” said Kaz. “I can hear the sound of one hand clapping. I can see in sound, like bats. The true answer to that question is nothing to do with chaos, it is the sound that the pressure of moving air makes that is too small for human hearing but that insects flee from and bats veer away from. The answer to the question is that all beings are different and experience sound and sight, feeling, and taste differently. It is the beauty of the order of the world that makes it so.”

Skulos screamed. And then, as he was held in the city gaol, not the temple, he was attacked by Daze’s spirits of retribution. He put up his hands in horror.

Kaz made short work of the spirits, rending them into pieces.

Skulos stared at her, trembling, violently.

“I... I... lies, all lies, all smoke and mirrors and lies,” he said. “My whole life, lies!”

“Worship thus,” said Kaz, walking him through the ritual of Alethos. “That at least will protect you. I’ll ask to have you transferred to the temple, and you can receive aid there to undo the damage.”

She left him broken and sobbing; but he could be built up and learn other ways.

 

oOoOo

 

“Listen, we can unriddle people!” said Kaz, excitedly. She told them about her conversation with Skulos, and looked at them, beaming in expectation.

“Kaz, dearest,” said Harkon, “You can unriddle people. I don’t think I’m the only one who totally failed to understand that.”

Kaz looked around at confused looks and her face fell.

“You’re the one who always found riddles interesting,” said Protasion. “And some of us worried you’d fall into the Trickser’s traps. But you haven’t, and you see further.”

“Oh, crap, and it seemed so easy,” said Kaz.

“Oh crap, indeed,” said Protasion, striking his forehead. ‘When those whose minds were voluntarily bound are released to understanding, that which was seen crooked will be seen straight, and the truth shall set them free.’ Now I understand that little gem.”

“Why don’t we heave in that little gadfly in the work gang and see if you can unriddle him?” suggested Lelyn.

Myopsos was brought.

“I haven’t done anything,” he said.

“Which riddle enlightened you?” asked Kaz.

“‘If a tree falls in a forest with nobody there to listen, does it make a sound?’” said Myopsos.

“And you answered?”

“No, because there is no sound if there is nobody there to hear it,” said Myopsos. He smirked.

“So, you are assuming it is a forest full of dead trees, with no plants on the ground?” said Kaz.

“Huh?”

“Well, most forests are full of birds, small animals, insects. And that means they hear when a tree falls; and usually they run to avoid being in the way of it. So, even if your postulate that a sound only exists if something is there to hear it, which I dispute, there would be plenty of wildlife to hear it.”

“But...” Myopsos frowned.  Kaz could see the riddling unravel from him. “But then why....”

“Because Daze is a liar,” said Kaz.

 “You’re a bitch; you’ve spoiled everything!” wailed Myopsos.

“No, I fancy the road still needs mending,” said Kaz. “He can go back to the workgang.”

“Did that get us any further forward?” asked Protasion.

“Heaps,” said Kaz. “Now I understand the shape of Daze’s magic.”

“Er?” said Protasion.

“I can better unravel illusions, and I understand how his mind works so I can unravel that to release the tróglings he holds in thrall,” said Kaz.

“That makes sense,” said Prosasion. “You have to understand how a fortress is built to tear it down; I suppose it’s the same thing.”

“Exactly,” said Kaz.

 

oOoOo

 

“So, is Errilaz dead?” asked Selen. “I would expect to be called to the place of souls if she were; so long in my service, surely I must know of her death?” it was a whine.

“You did try to kill her, m’dear,” said Daze. “She might have decided that it was worth worshipping Rogaz, even though I doubt she’d go back to daddy-dearest.”

“Who would,” said Selen. “Imagine Tor as a father!”

Daze sniggered. He did not see much difference between Tor as a father and their absent father, the Chaos Wolf.

“Well, has your assassin verified her death?” demanded Selen. Daze glared at her. She was being very snippy lately. It wasn’t his fault things had gone wrong.

“Oh, well, I haven’t heard from him,” said Daze, airily.

“Find out,” said Selen. “And if he hasn’t done the job properly, I expect you to do it yourself.”

“You’re in a damned nasty mood lately,” said Daze.

“And it’s all your fault,” said Selen. “I’ve lost a day of moonshine, perhaps permanently, because you did not come through with the power from the sacrifice. If I’d known you were that full of shit, I’d have sacrificed Selenopolis before they got usurped and most of my true worshippers slain, and those who gave lip service converted to the old fogies of one sort or another. It isn’t fair, and it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll go in person and find out,” said Daze, hastily. He would have to come up with some kind of diversion as a misdirection; there were altogether too many powerful beings in Mesolimnos.

 

oOoOo

 

Errilaz woke up and saw beside her, her father. She gasped.

“Father?”

“Now, don’t go getting sentimental or anything,” said Tor. “Just because I have some passing concern about my oldest progeny.”

“I was such a fool,” said Errilaz. “I believed her lies! That her will was to combine with the Blue Moon and effect a healing, and promote toróg to pre-eminence over humans! And I hated humans and now I owe them my life.”

“That creature, Selen, and her brother are good at pulling echoes over one’s darksense,” said Tor. “You’ll be working with the Daykaz when you are well. And as Selen knocked you about so badly I don’t have to give you the spanking you so richly deserve.”

“I’ve missed you, too, father, but I did not know how to break away.”

Tor gave her a rough embrace.

“Give me your worship, quickly, so you are safeguarded,” he said.

Willingly, she did so.

“We will grind her bones to feed to Rogaz,” said Errilaz.

“That’s my girl!” said Tor.

He battered away almost casually the retributive spirits which came to punish his daughter as a result of her formal renunciation of Selen. Tor was, after all, a major god.

 

oOoOo

 

“DAZE! Go kill Errilaz right away! She has formally renounced me!” screeched Selen. “Kill her now, kill her now!”

“Keep your hair on,” grumbled Daze. “I’m going in my own good time. Better right than fast,” he added, hastily.

“It would be a miracle if you could manage either right or fast; you aren’t much good at either. Unless it’s being premature,” taunted Selen.

Daze promised himself she would pay for that.

 

oOoOo

 

“Why are we still on guard, do you know, Brucius?” a guard on the walls of the city asked, idly. “I thought they’d all gone away.”

“In case they come back with more sensible commanders, Sukos,” said Brucius. “And yes, I know, it’s hot, and dry, but we don’t want them turning up and spoiling what harvest there is. Our higher command aren’t stupid.”

“And I never realised what clever critters trógling were until this last few years,” said Sukos. “I don’t even notice race, these days, let alone question working with any.”

“Well, mate, you go run for someone like Lady Kaz, right now, and any o’ her friends, because if I’m not mistaken, trouble is flying in from the east.”

“Those aren’t seagulls.”

“No, mate, they really aren’t.”

Sukos set off at a run, pausing only to ring the alarm bell. Kaz shot out of the halls of healing, and almost collided with him.

“What?” she asked.

“Big flying critters, milady, from the east!” managed Sukos.

“Go alert people like Chrysandion and Pythas,” said Kaz, running up the steps. Lelyn would take the children into the underground levels.

She skidded to a halt beside Brucius, who pointed, wordlessly.

People were arriving on the walls, with a babble of fear, pointing at what appeared to be a cross between birds and reptiles, with long, toothed beaks, black wrinkled skin, and leathery bat-like wings.

“If Marsh-creepers had proper wings...” said Brucius, in a terrified whisper. “Only bigger. Much, much, bigger.”

Kaz peered, and frowned. She turned, sensing the hulking figure of Tor, having followed her up, small eyes watering in the bright daylight.

“Your darksense is better than mine, tell me what you observe,” she said. She could hear the echoes of Tor’s powerful darksense. She was awed by how far he could reach.  Tor grunted.

“All I sense is a flock of geese,” said Tor.

“I thought so; the shell of fell beast is an illusion.  Join with me; I need your senses and you need my knowledge of unriddling.”

The massive sense of the greater god of the toróg settled on Kaz’s mind, and she showed him the patterns of riddle magic. Tor sniggered.

“That makes it a lot easier,” he said.

“Yes, and now get the hell back to Errilaz,” said Kaz, urgently. “I wager this is a diversion.”

Tor’s comments were scatological, but fortunately, few people understood them. They did not translate terribly well, anyway, reflected Kaz, since castigating Daze as someone who ate his grandmother without ceremony and taking the female parts to feast on as well was a more deadly insult to a toróg than to a human, who would be revolted, but confused. A human would be revolted at the idea of cannibalism, but to the resource-short Toróg the insult was about forgetting the ceremony to rob a relative of being a relative, to make it just meat, as was the idea of a male eating anything reserved for female consumption. ‘He eats his grandmother’s breasts without prayer and with no shame’ did not translate into the filthy, searingly dirty imprecation it was to a Toróg. The rituals were now being applied, she knew, to those trógling who died, no longer treated as cattle. It was good that courtesies were now shown; and trógling communities would hopefully learn not to need even ritual cannibalism if they could farm. Which was neither here nor there, and she had to rip off the illusions because illusions created by any powerful beings could cause harm if believed by those they attacked. And the geese were making an attack, doubtless under spell to do so; and everyone on the wall believed they were some kind of outsize flying marsh creepers.

Kaz swore.

Her imprecations, however, were more comprehensible to the soldiers on the wall. And they cheered her for showing irritable, not scared.

“These things are illusions!” she shouted. “Try to ignore what you see! I’m going to try to take the illusions apart, but they are no more than geese – great things on which to model outsize ducks! And good eating if we can bring them down. Look for the shimmer at the breast-bone where the goose beaks penetrate the supposed skin of the constructs!”

“I’m on it, my lady!” one of the men with bows called, seeing a beak and aiming for where he knew there would be a goose breast. With a twang, his arrow flew straight; and a goose fell onto the plain before the city, the foul beast seeming to surround it just disappearing!

“Good man!” shouted Kaz. It would help the others as she battled against time to undo the illusion magic, and reveal what was truly inside the flying monsters! It was like finding a thread at the end of a cloth; once you had it, a good pull would ravel the whole cloth. Finding that single thread to pull was the trick... Kaz absently parried at the lead beast’s attack run as she found the magic thread.... and pulled.

The men shouted and cheered.

Goose was on the menu.