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.

 

Destiny's Queen 20

 

Chapter 20

 

Selen summoned all her surviving pantheon, including the hapless and somewhat ravaged Thanus. The two primary gods were Klerus, god of traders, son and apostate of Merkedes, and Librax, god of knowledge, apostate of Polos. In addition was Hippona, horse whisperer of the plains, called Blackmane, the greatest traitor, who brought the great horses who were used as heavy cavalry, from the breeding experiments of her own tribe; and Errilaz, daughter of Tor, who had betrayed her kin when rebelling against her father’s strictures. She had brought the knowledge of animating the dead, which Selen had worked on with Aima.

“You murdered toróg for nothing,” said Errilaz.

“I wasn’t to know there was a stinking goddess of trógling, now,” said Selen. “And why haven’t you been backing the bloodsuckers? You know about undead.”

“I know about animating dead bodies, but not about the way Aima animated them,” said Errilaz.

“Well, in that case, you’ve outlived your usefulness,” said Selen. She hurled rocks at Errilaz, who dodged most of them, but was hit on the head and fell off the moonsphere.

The other Selenite gods shuffled, nervously.

“What?” said Selen. “It’s an object lesson; don’t fail me. Thanus is also learning not to fail me whilst he recovers a body. Librax!  I need all your priests alerted; any prophecy about trógling, and about me, and... well, anything useful!”

“Yes, fair lady,” said Librax, with a bow.

“Klerus! Any prophecy your people can trade or steal!” said Selen.

“Yes, fair lady,” said Klerus.

“Hippona! More horses!”

“That cannot happen overnight; the barbarians ate my horses,” said Hippona, sorrowfully.

“I don’t want excuses! I want results!” screeched Selen.

 

oOoOo

 

Alethos felt a powerful soul on the brink of death, and called his sister, Latrika, to go with him to see what was happening. Kaz went too.

At the gates of dawn, the mighty body of the demi-goddess high toróg lay battered.

“Errilaz!” said Alethos.

“She has annoyed her mistress, the red moon,” said Latrika. “I can heal her, but it will be long that she lies in a coma.”

“Take her to Mesolimnos,” said Alethos. “I will speak with Tor.”

 

Tor had sensed his daughter’s soul wavering within its body, but he was too proud to seek her out. He felt the mental call of Alethos and steeled himself; he would contest Selen for his own daughter’s soul.

“Is she dead?” he asked, harshly.

“No, my sister is working on her,” said Alethos. “As far as we can determine, she annoyed the red bitch and was thrown to earth. She’s grievously hurt but I had her taken to Mesolimnos.”

“That’s a human city!”

“Yes, but a lot of powerful people are there who can protect her; including a heroine of Rogaz,” said Alethos.

“Why?”

“We have had many differences and grievances; and I don’t like even shells of bodies being used, but in light of what Selen and Aima did, I think I owe you an apology for assuming you intentionally bound souls.”

“I don’t bind souls at all!”

“Yet my people have reported souls released when your Nekrosti were killed.”

“The hell you say! That should not happen!”

“I think it was in the way Selen twisted the ritual which rebounded on you,” said Alethos. “Now Aima is dead, it may stop; and certainly will when Selen is dead.”

“When?”

“By prophesy it should be soon. No, you’re not involved and neither am I, not directly. It’s an all female affair.”

Tor grunted. Such was the way of his people.

“I... please keep me up to date on my daughter.”

“I will,” said Alethos. “My wife is with her.”

 

oOoOo

 

Errilaz groaned.

“Take it easy; you had a nasty fall,” said a soft voice. “You almost died. And it seems a shame to give the red moon so easy a victory.”

“She wanted me to take Aima’s place!” said Errilaz. “As if the rituals had not been tampered with enough!”

“You can atone by helping us understand the dynamics of Selen’s court.”

“I... yes. Wait! You are nothing but a trógling; how can you speak with apparent understanding?”

“Some trógling are mentally stunted but not all,” said Kaz. “And as a heroine of Alethos and newly goddess of trógling, we are equals, so don’t even think of getting sniffy about it. I didn’t have to help heal you, I chose to do so.”

“You are proud!”

“And why not? I have worked hard to be where I am.” Kaz stood tall. “I will ease you back into a healing coma, and you will be guarded day and night. I suggest you sacrifice in prayer to either your father or to Rogaz, in case you manage to die; you aren’t out of danger.”

Errilaz muttered a ritual prayer to Rogaz; she was not yet ready to face her father.

 

oOoOo

 

“What has happened to Errilaz?” demanded Selen. “I threw her to the earth but I have not been summoned to the place of souls for her. I was going to repudiate her soul, of course, but I cannot do so if I am not called. Can she have recanted and returned to worship of her father?”

“He’s too stubborn to accept her,” said Daze. “Perhaps Alethos took her? It could be taken that killing her meant that you repudiate her automatically.”

“Find out!” Selen demanded.

 

oOoOo

 

The battered and broken goddess would take time to heal, and remained unconscious, to allow her bruised brain a chance to repair itself. The large high toróg male who visited glared defensively at everyone.

He was confronted by a high toróg female with a trógling.

“Before I permit you to visit the patient, I need your word you mean her no harm,” said Hraazaz, crisply.

“Why would I mean her any harm?” the visitor demanded, truculently. 

“Because someone has already tried to kill her once,” said Hraazaz. “Please don’t be evasive but answer the question honestly.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“You’re the fellow going to be thrown out of the hospital if you won’t let me do my job to protect the patient,” growled Hraazaz.

“I mean her no harm,” Tor growled back.

“He speaks truth,” said the trógling.

“Then you may be permitted to sit with her for a while,” said Hraazaz. “Latrika says that it is likely that she can hear even if she cannot respond and recommends chatting about things that will not cause her stress. Or reciting poetry or singing if you can think of nothing else.”

“Girl, have you ever heard me sing?”

“No, but even if it sounds like goats farting through a drainpipe, if it’s familiar to her, the rest of us will put up with it,” said Hraazaz, with an austere smile. “I assume you are her father; is there a mother?”

“She was a mortal,” said Tor. “She’s with Rogaz.”

“Ah,” said Hraazaz. “Well, I am sure Rogaz will let her know, if she is interested.”

“She dumped Errilaz in one of my temples,” grumped Tor.

“Oh,” said Hraazaz. “No wonder she was seeking attention and turned to Selen during a bad moment.”

“I could not believe it,” said Tor.

“You know, you don’t have to be afraid to admit to loving her,” said Hraazaz, waspishly. “Alethos admits to love; what are you, a sunling?”

“You are offensive!” he leaped up.

“Sit down and don’t shout in front of the patient,” said Hraazaz. “And thank you for the compliment.”

“You’re a pert chit of a girl,” he grumbled.

“And you’re grumpy.”

“Aren’t you even nervous of me?”

“No, of course not. Why should I be?”

“Most people find me fearsome.”

Hraazaz shrugged.

“When you’ve seen Alethos covered in porridge smeared on him by his daughter, you get a little blasé around gods,” she said. “His wife and I are close friends. Her friend has been truth checking visitors to Errilaz for me. I’ve learned to stop seeing humans, trógling, darklings, high toróg or gods and see people. I’m learning healing from Latrika because I’ll have a role helping to heal Rogaz and reforge the blue moon. By prophesy, I’ll be there. I might die on the mission, but I will be there, and nobody will stop that.”

“Can it really be done? Heal her, and heal our people?”

“Yes, it can. I believe it, and I believe in Kaz, the Daykaz, to do it. We have our tasks to perform, and we will perform them.”

“It’s a lot of faith to have in a trógling.”

“She’s not a trógling. She’s Kaz. And I’ve learned to put my trust in her. She put me into and got me out of the cocoon which brought out the high toróg within me. She rescued me from the Selenites. She does what she sets out to do.”

“And what does she set out to do with my daughter?”

“There’s a prophesy which suggests Errilaz might be going with us. ‘The daughter of destruction will ease the way,’ it says. Alethos is referred to as death.”

“Huh,” said Tor.

 

oOoOo

 

“She’s alive,” said Daze.

“Who’s alive?” asked Selen, hoping he meant Aima.

“Errilaz,” said Daze. “I got one of mine into Mesolimnos as a merchant; and there’s a big high toróg woman in the houses of healing that they have been guarding.”

“Send someone to kill her,” said Selen. “She knows too much about me; kill her as quickly as you can.”

“I’ll send one of my assassins,” said Daze. “Don’t worry. It will be done.”

“You said that about getting power from the sacrifice, too,” said Selen.

“Trust me,” said Daze.

“I’m not that besotted, brother dear,” said Selen.

 

oOoOo

 

Skulos knew he was one of the best. If not the best. He had studied people and he knew how they behaved. And confidence was the key. Skulking around was what got most assassins and spies caught; however tempting it was to lurk, striding out confidently was paradoxically more invisible.  He had to admire the pair of saboteurs named Fadabius and Aquilix, who had dismantled the bureaucracy of Selenopolis from within whilst being dismissed by all as a pair of more than usually outrageously camp secret police. Everyone looked in horror on their sartorial solecisms, and missed them building an army of rebels and quietly inserting impossible orders and work programs into the day-to-day running of the Imperial City. They might be enemies, but to Skulos, they were true professionals whose exploits were legendary, and should be written into any future manual for spies.  It was not in Skulos’s nature to hide in such flamboyance, but he appreciated it, and filed it away for possible use. He could pass as any one of a number of government officials or employees, from drain clearer to governor’s personal secretary; from argumentative guild member to quietly competent librarian.

This time, Skulos was being a high-ranking initiate of Latrika, a competent doctor who walked into the houses of healing in the distinctive red and white striped tunic of an accredited healer, nodding austerely to lay members, a bow across the room to a priest, making his way confidently to the room where he was to use his little cursed knife of cutting, whose wounds could not be healed, to open the veins of the unconscious toróg woman, and settle them on absorbant pads so nobody realised until it was too late.

A trógling was sitting with the female; presumably her slave, watching for any life-signs.

“You can go,” he said, giving the peremptory order to it.

“I beg your pardon?” said the slave.

“I said, get out, slave, and let me tend to my patient,” said Skulos.

The creature got up, and Skulos smirked.

He was not smirking when she cold-cocked him.

Kaz was infuriated.

And there was something wrong if he assumed her to be a slave in the free city of Mesolimnos. And her enemy sense was a little confused, although it gave her some idea that he was an enemy of Errilaz. Skulos was so very much the professional that he suborned his assassin’s nature under the part he was playing, which fooled many an Alethosi able to sense enemies until it was too late. Even so, he charged more, if Alethosi were involved. They had a nasty habit of seeing through him and being ridiculously fast to act and with extreme violence.

Kaz called for backup, and Skulos disappeared into a cell for later questioning. His cursed knife was discovered and sent to curse breakers to destroy, and he was stripped of a number of weapons.

Kaz told the unconscious Errilaz all about it.

She was relieved by Hraazaz, who seemed to take the watch before Tor, who had, to do him credit, turned up daily.

Kaz returned to the temple to see if her catch had regained consciousness.  He had; and was in a cell, dressed in a simple peasant’s tunic without a waist tie, as he had been found to have a wire in his own waist tie, his shoulder clasp was a shallow box  containing pills which were being analysed, and he had gold coins sewn into his seams.

 

Kaz swept into the room.

“Oh, you are in so much trouble, slave, when your mistress finds out you will be severely beaten,” said Skulos, hoping that the slave had acted under its own initiative.

“Don’t pretend to be stupid, it doesn’t become you,” said Kaz, crisply. “You know fine well that you are in the free city of Mesolimnos, where slavery is outlawed, and so pretending ignorance is no defence. Your method of avoiding the sensing of enemies we Alethosi use is almost effective, however, I suppose you immerse yourself in your role.”

“I don’t understand,” said Skulos.

Kaz partly drew her sword.

“Perhaps you understand what using iron means?” she said. “And oh, look, I can cast magic to fold you in your blanket as you are looking aggressive. Now, have we established that I’m powerful and you are currently helpless, perhaps we can begin your interrogation.”

“But... but you can’t be a glyph level! Troglings are slaves!”

“Trógling, you barbarian. And nobody stops free people from achieving glyph status if they have the willpower. This is why Mesolimnos has several heroes, and why the whole empire only ever had one, and she left. You are some kind of assassin sent to kill Tor’s daughter, Errilaz, but you can’t be very good if you don’t do your research beforehand.”

“I’m the best! One of the best, anyway! I study people, I know how to blend in!”

Kaz laughed.

“If you’re the best there must be a lot of truly inept assassins sneaking around the Empire,” she said, in genuine amusement. “And you did not study people nor blend in.”

“I... I did not know I was out of the Empire! I was moved by godly magic to the city, and told to kill the toróg woman in the houses of healing! What do you mean, Errilaz, daughter of Tor? She’s one of our pantheon. Lord Daze wouldn’t want me to kill her.”

“Oho, that’s the way of it, is it? And you’re caught in the middle of your pantheon trying to kill each other. Does that make you damned whatever you do?”

Skulos had never been so confused or terrified since before the terrifying but comforting certainty of Daze’s riddles had come over him. He felt trapped in a conundrum of the kind he found before his enlightenment.

“It cannot be Errilaz,” he said. “It must be someone pretending to be Errilaz, and the Lord Daze wants an imposter killed.”

“On my honour as a worshipper of Alethos, she is Errilaz. As I have sworn, so let it be seen as truth,” said Kaz, drawing an iron knife to cut her hand, and grasp the truth glyph she wore as a necklace alongside that of death. Both were made of iron, and Skulos knew that she had to be telling the truth. Otherwise she would be burned by the magical nature of the glyph.

He fell back in shock.