Orphans of Chaos

1.

The Soldier, Lord Mavors, his expression once again under his control, now stepped up to the seat opposite the Lady Cyprian. At once the arrangement of the table became clear to me. Half the table was for the Lady and her entourage, her robots and ladies and foxes, her tree-man, her goat-man, and men with extra eyes or extra limbs or a man missing a head. The other half of the table was reserved for the Soldier. He had no one.

He held up the javelin a moment, and dipped it toward the Lady, saying, “Ma’am.”

Cyprian acknowledged the salute by wiggling in her chair, and darted a heavy-lidded look at him. “Don’t you want to sit next to me?” She patted the chair to her side. Then she said to her handmaidens: “I bet he won’t! He’s toying with me! He’s so mean! Look at how cute he is!” Then, to him again: “You never write!”

I would have felt embarrassed for her, except that she seemed so cheerful, so obviously sure of herself, that she did not seem to notice the other people around her, listening.

And everyone (except the golems, whose masks were immobile, and the man with his head on a plate, whose expression was composed) were looking nervous, agog, or annoyed. The Satyr wore a look of naked fear. Even the foxes had both opened their fans to hide their muzzles, despite that their faces could not show expressions.

But no one looked surprised.

The Soldier spun the heavy javelin lightly in his fingers, and drove it point-downward into the floorboards (bang!) so that it trembled upright next to him. He slung the shield over the arm of the chair, to keep it at hand, pulled the katana, scabbard and all, from his web-belt, and laid the sheathed blade on the table before him. Then he sat down.

He said to the Lady Cyprian, “You have to write letters to get letters, ma’am.”

“I think my husband rips them up!”

“Ah… yes ma’am. Can’t blame him. Seeing as how you humiliate him in public, and all.” The Soldier folded his hands on the table. “Any word from the boy?” he asked curtly.

“Which boy?”

“Our son.”

“Nope! Still missing! I hope he’s OK. Don’t you hope he’s OK?”

“I hope for your husband’s sake, that he is, ma’am.”

“You don’t really think Mulciber killed him, do you? I’d hate to have you think that. Please don’t kill my husband. I like him very much. And he makes me things.”

The Soldier said nothing, but turned his head to give Headmaster Boggin a cool stare.

Boggin took that as an excuse to step forward and nod politely toward both sides of the table. “Your Ladyship, Your Lordship, honored Visitors and Governors, please take your seats. Perhaps we can begin.”

Her Ladyship said, “I love beginnings. Beginnings are always the times of magic, of unknown delight, full of promise and expectation. Consummations are also much to be desired. Maybe we can have a dance after, or something.” She waved her hands at the people, things, and animals on her side of the table. “Sit! Sit!”

The metal men held the chairs for the ladies, and the Satyr held a chair for one of the nude women, but he must have goosed her, because she turned and slapped him. The metal men did not sit down, but kept their empty, smiling masks turned toward the Soldier, their dead lenses trained on him.

Boggin took his position halfway between the Soldier and the Lady, with Mr. Sprat and Mr. ap Cymru standing to either side behind his chair.

The Soldier pointed with his finger at ap Cymru. “What’s that one doing here?”

Boggin said smoothly, “He is part of the staff, Your Lordship. Originally part of your Father’s staff, Your Lordship, may he rest in peace.”

“Amen,” said the Lady Cyprian, and everyone on her side of the table (except the golems) said “Amen,” in unison.

Quentin, who was still lying on his back with his eyes closed, put his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. He found the idea of ancient Greek gods saying “Amen” funny, for some reason.

The Soldier said, “Do you know what he is?”

Boggin said, “He comes very highly recommended, Your Lordship, and—to be frank—I was not sure if I had the authority to discharge him. The unfortunate passing away of your Father left certain affairs in disarray. I could make this an item on this evening’s agenda, if Your Lordship wishes…?”

The Soldier gave the slightest shake of his head, and turned to look back at the Lady. “Let’s stick to what we came to talk about. Time’s short.”

Cyprian, elbows on the table, was hunched behind her little mirror, with only her glittering eyes peeping over the edge. She was impishly aiming her mirror at him, tilting it this way and that, to send little triangles of light, reflected from the chandelier, floating over the Soldier’s lean cheeks, flashing in his eyes.

Cyprian said playfully, “We are all surprised to see you, dear. No one knew you were coming yourself. You didn’t send Fear or Panic?”

He squinted, and for a moment, looked so amused, and annoyed, and filled with masculine power, that I was sure he was going to get up, walk across the room, throw the Lady Cyprian over his shoulder, and carry her off right there and then. Or kiss her. Or both.

Instead he said drily, “Fear sometimes scares people.” Then he turned to Boggin and said, “Boreas, get on with it.”

Boggin said, “Well, then. Your Lordship, Your Ladyship, Visitors, Governors. We all know the tragic events in Heaven of recent history have left matters somewhat in, shall we say, flux. When the rebels, led by your Lordship’s brother, Dionysus…”

“Half-brother,” said the Soldier.

“…Your Lordship’s half-brother, were defeated at Phlegra, certain hostages were taken from the pits of Tartarus, as a pledge of good behavior for the Titans whom Lord Hermes Trismegistus, the Swift God, and the Lady of Wisdom, Tritogenia, had released…”

The Lady Cyprian said in a soft cooing voice: “Boreas, your speech is fine, and you are right to be proud of it. There is at least one girl who has heard your voice who entertains sweet thoughts of you. But, I pray you, enough. We need no reminding of what we already know.”

Her tone was much less playful when speaking to the Headmaster than when speaking to the Soldier. Her tone was still sweet and kindly, but it was clear she was addressing an underling.

I sensed, rather than heard, a disappointed noise from Quentin. He had been dying to hear what everyone already knew. He may have even been counting on Boggin to provide the background to what was going on. But now the Lady Cyprian had cut that off.

She continued: “These are the words of the Maker. This is what my husband says: on no account are the Children of Chaos to be killed. The Uranians would rise up from the Pit should that happen.”

The Soldier said, “I concur.”

And he put his hand on the table, stood, and picked up his sheathed sword to tuck it through his web-belt again.

2.

Headmaster Boggin said, “But Your Lordship, Your Ladyship!”

The Soldier was adjusting something on his belt, and spoke without looking up. “Don’t kill the children. Everyone agrees. Talk is over. What’s the problem?”

Boggin was speechless for a moment, and made a gobbling noise.

Quentin now, unable to resist, turned and opened his eyes, keeping a hand between himself and the Lady. Quentin grinned to see Boggin so discombobulated.

It was Mr. ap Cymru who spoke up. His voice had a nasal twang to it. “So the Butcher and the Tinker agree to keep the little wolf pups alive! No one makes a decision, and nothing gets done! Another year goes by, and the pups get a little older, and a little bigger. Hurrah for compromise! But one day the pups will turn into wolves, and eat the sun and the moon, and what do we do then?”

Headmaster Boggin said sternly, “Thank you for your considered opinions, Taffy, though this may not have been the proper, shall we say, venue, for airing them.”

The man with floating hair, whose robes were made of weightless blue, spoke up. “It is not wise to annoy the Great Ones, Laverna, or whatever you are calling yourself these days, now that you are a man.”

The Soldier was in the process of unsticking his javelin from the floorboards. He wiggled it back and forth once or twice. “Thank you, Corus, but some of the Great Ones don’t get in a snit one way or the other. Let him—her—it—whatever, talk.” With a pop, the javelin came loose from the floorboards. To ap Cymru, he said, “So talk, Laverna. What’s eating you?”

Ap Cymru said, “Milord Mavors, you know the situation is unstable. No one expected, when we forced the Uranians to assume the shape of human babies, that the impersonation would be so exact. So exact, that they did what human babies do, and grew up. The potions, the prayers, the spells we use to keep them under control were meant to control children, not grown adults.”

“You are not telling me anything I don’t know, Fraud. What’s your point?”

“Put someone on the Throne of Heaven. Anyone. I don’t care how you pick him. Throw lots, have a footrace, have a war.”

Lady Cyprian said softly, “Oh, did they finally decide to do it by the war method? I know who I’ll be betting on.” Her ladies-in-waiting tittered.

Mavors actually frowned at her. “There’s not going to be a war. Everyone loses in war, even the winners. The Uranians would rise up.”

She smiled at him, a sultry, mocking smile, and her eyes danced. “Then auction off the throne. Whoever gives the bigger bribe wins!”

Of all people, it was the Satyr who said, “Or hold a ballot.”

The ladies-in-waiting put their fingers to their mouths and laughed. The one with the dove on her wrist said, “That really comes out to the same thing in the end, doesn’t it, Pherespondus?”

The one holding the bow and arrows said gaily, “ ’Twould be a foregone conclusion, my sisters Graces. Mavors on his meager soldier’s pay could not outbid the Lord of Goldsmiths.”

Ap Cymru made a slashing motion in the air with his hand. “Milord, milady, it does not matter how you get someone on the throne. Just get someone. Make peace between the factions, restore the army to full strength. The Uranians will then be afraid to attack us because of our strength. Then we can let these hostages go, and to hell with them.

“The Late High King wasn’t just Diospater, the Father of Gods, and he wasn’t just Iopater, the High Father. He was also called Terminus, the Lord of Boundaries. The boundaries around the estate are weakening as the children grow older. We need someone to restore them. Here, and elsewhere, too. There are places in the Twelve Worlds where tears are appearing in the fabric of reality. So just pick someone.”

Mavors said, “We do not have the authority just to pick someone. We don’t have the right. The law of succession is set by primogeniture. No one believes me, but I actually don’t want the job. But I’m the only one in line. Phoebus and Phoebe are bastards; Trismegistus and Dionysus are both traitors and bastards.”

The man in tan coveralls with the metal eye in his forehead, Brontes, spoke. It did not sound like a real voice; it sounded like the words were made by machine. “Hephaestus is the son of Queen Hera and the All-Father Zeus. He is legitimate.”

Mavors shrugged. “Dad threw him out of Heaven. I don’t think Mulciber is any son of my father.”

“Do you think he is the son of Ixion?”

Mavors looked at him thoughtfully. “Be careful what you say about my mother. Pick your words very carefully. I’ll remember them to tell the stonecutter.”

“What stonecutter?”

“The one making your headstone.”

“Are you threatening me? Who will forge the thunderbolts if the Cyclopes are slain? There is no other weapon to drive back the Uranians.”

The headless man’s head, speaking from his plate, said, “That may not protect you, Brontes. Athena Tritogenia was one of the rebels, remember? And Zeus is dead. Who else can wield the lightning bolt? Dionysus is said to have learned the secret. But he was one of the rebels, too.”

Mavors said in a quiet voice, “I never threaten anyone. I don’t need to. But you could still work at the forge if I broke your kneecap. Your boss the Gimp does it.”

He paused to let that sink in.

Then he said, “So don’t talk about my mother. When she stood up to Dad and his philandering, everyone called her a bitch. When she was quiet about it, everyone called her a doormat. Well, I’m tired of it. No one makes fun of High Queen Basilissa. Are we clear?”

Lady Cyprian said, “Now, you leave my husband’s people alone, Ares. You’re the one who said Mulciber wasn’t Terminus’ son. But we all know he was Acraea’s son. You don’t really think it was a virgin birth, do you? How could it be? Your mother was married. Married people aren’t virgins. Not after a while, anyway. It’s just a dumb story. I think you’re the one who made it up.”

Mavors said to her, “If Dad can make Lady Wisdom pop out of his head, Mom can do the same sort of thing. And it makes me laugh, doll, to hear you, of all people, saying what’s possible and impossible when it comes to being born.

“Anyway. We’re not here to discuss paternity issues. We’re sort of off the topic. We’re all in a bind because no one is in charge. We’re divided and weak. We can’t kill the hostages because the Uranians will attack. We can’t let them go. Same reason. And we can’t keep waiting around, because Boreas and his crew here can’t keep the children from growing up, like he was supposed to.”

Headmaster Boggin puffed up. “Milord, the implication is most unfair. Most unfair! There are four boundaries to the estate, four places where the four versions of the universe touch this world. Had we moved the hostages in the early days, when the unfixed ylem in their bodies had not yet learned how to copy human organs, moving them too far away from a boundary would have killed them. Even now, I do not know what harm might befall them if we move them too far away. But this famous spot where the four boundaries touch, is also on a world entirely overrun with humans. The local laws of nature have their sway here. The local law commands children to grow. Your own son, Milord, after centuries of being a baby, grew up to manhood because of the time he spent on this world, with Psyche.”

Lady Cyprian frowned and rolled her eyes. “Pul-lease don’t remind me. Talk about marrying the help!”

“Milord, Milady, all I mean to say is that there were no other options,” said Boggin. “There are few, very few places where all four versions of reality intersect. His Imperial Majesty Lord Terminus stabilized this area, cast a Fate over it. We could not move the children away from this spot, because it might have harmed them. I asked the Imperator Cupid to wipe out mankind living in these islands, but he would not.

“Now that they are older, we might be able to move the Uranians to another location, but I am certain Your Lordship would wish this to be done under the supervision of someone you trust for the same reason Lord Mulciber would insist on it.”

Mavors gave a small and bitter grin, and said, “Because Mulciber knows that if he had Uranians on his side, he could stand a chance of winning. Same goes for Anacreon and the Maiden, and even Pelagaeus the Earthshaker, or whoever else thinks they have a claim on the throne. Same goes for me.”

Boggin bowed slightly. “I had been hoping, in fact, to make that the main topic of conversation at this meeting. If any child finds the boundary to his or her home, their powers will stir. The spells, the psionics, the manipulations of the geometry of space-time, the potions we use to keep them from changing shape or waking the chaos around them, are hindered by the fact that this estate is on a planet of humans, basically part of the materialistic paradigm of Aetna.”

Mavors picked up his shield. “I am not sure there is much to discuss. This estate belonged to Dad. We all know it is his land, and none of us has much influence here. Where else are we going to put these kids? One of my places? Mulciber wouldn’t agree. One of Mulciber’s places?”

Lady Cyprian said, “Which are kind of, you know, hot and, well, volcanic. Not the best place for kids.”

Mavors finished with a shrug. “If we throw them in the ocean, Pelagaeus gets them. You see?”

Ap Cymru said, “Hell. Put them in the Asphodel Fields.”

3.

Mavors looked at the headless man.

The headless man said, “Everyone here knows what the power of the Unseen One is. You know he could take Olympus if he wanted to, and neither the machines of Vulcan nor the dragons of Mars could stand against him. If he wanted Uranians to serve him, he has the keys to Tartarus in any case.”

Mavors said, “If the Unseen One will publicly repudiate the claim of his wife, the Maiden, to the throne of Heaven, I’d agree. I trust him. I don’t necessarily trust her.”

Lady Cyprian said, “I’ll consult with my husband. But I am sure Mulciber will agree. He and Hades have always been on the best of terms. Sort of an underground, live in a land of fire and lava kind of thing. Get the best-looking wives. You know. Like a club.”

“Well, look at that,” said Mavors, hoisting his shield to his shoulder. “We settled something after all.”

The Lady Cyprian half-rose from her seat. “Ares! You’re not leaving yet, are you? You must stay for the dance!”

“I’d love to, ma’am, but I cannot. The Titans are stirring in the Pontic Sea, and their brothers are swimming in the magma below the Earth’s crust. Other Titans have been seen in the spheres above the Moon, like bats as large as caravels; or lying on the sands of Libya by night, like mountains.

“They seem to be gathering. Deimos thinks they are all heading toward the Citadel of Dreams in Cimmeria. Without the lightning bolt, we will have no way to drive them back, if they come out of the Sunless Land again, and storm Olympus. That’s why I could not spare any of my people for this little gathering, here. Fairest of goddesses, adieu. You ladies can dance. The men have work to do.”

Mavors tucked his finger under his coif, and pulled it over his crew cut.

4.

“Just a moment, my Lord!” said a new voice. This was the dark-haired man with gills, the one who wore a jacket of blue, green, and white scales.

Boggin said, “What is it, Governor Mestor?”

“Before my Lord departs, there is another point the princes of Atlantis would like to bring up.”

Mavors said, “Spit it out.”

“Lord, we are not certain the growth and maturity of the four Uranians is a natural effect, as has been previously assumed. Four boundaries to four versions of Chaos border the estate. Our own access from our worlds is through the Sending Vessel. Correct? So why are the laws of nature of the human world working here?”

Headmaster Boggin said, “What are you implying?”

“In your report to the Board of last year, you explained that more of the influence of Chaos is coming through here. Strange events had occurred. Young Master Triumph was seen levitating a fork. Claw prints on the ceiling above the bed of young Master Nemo. Hollywood starlets answering love letters written by Master mac FirBolg. And it was clear that their people in the Abyss were trying to send dreams and reminders.”

Mavors said, “Make it snappy. I have other fires to put out.”

“Dread Lord of Battle, the princes of Atlantis are convinced that the boundaries around this estate are being pried open. These children are not growing old because of the operation of any law of nature. What does the concept of a law of nature have any meaning when dealing with a chaoticist? We suspect deliberate stratagem. Slow, yes, but deliberate. The Prince of the Night may be sending his influences in. He is shape-changing them by his magic to make them into adult Uranians.”

“So? What’s to be done?”

“There is only one child among the five who has the power to open boundaries, or to find the secret paths that run to other worlds. She will not perish when she is taken from a place next to the boundaries, because she is not a chaoticist. Nausicaa, the daughter of Alcinuous, who in this place goes by the ridiculous name of Vanity Fair, must be taken to Atlantis and put into the custody of the loyal sons of Neptune. Four Uranians might well alter the balance of power between the various factions contending for the throne. One Phaeacian girl will not. Once she is gone, the boundaries will resume their old strength, and the influences from Chaos here will diminish. Then there will be no need to move any of the other children anywhere.”

Mavors looked at Lady Cyprian. “Wouldn’t make much difference to me.”

Lady Cyprian blinked her enormous brown eyes. “I’ll see what my husband has to say about it. He may not like the idea of putting the daughter of the King of Phaeacia into the hands of Pelagaeus’ faction. Why have the Atlantians and Phaeacians on the same side?”

Mavors snorted. “Arete runs Phaeacia, not Alcinuous. She knows what side of the bread her butter is on, daughter or no daughter. There will be Phaeacian sea captains, pirates, and smugglers volunteering to serve any faction that is winning, no matter which side Alcinuous himself is on. And we all know he really, actually, backs Anacreon the Vine-God no matter what he says. That’s why Dad took his daughter in the first place.”

Mr. Sprat leaned in and said to Boggin, “If Miss Fair were out of sight and out of mind, sir, we might not have trouble with Grendel. We have heard that Grendel’s mother has already bought a wedding dress and fashioned a coffin for the girl.”

Mavors looked over. “Who is Grendel?”

Lady Cyprian laughed. “Oh, my dearest, you really should have your spies talk to my spies! Grendel is the groundskeeper here. He goes by the name of Glum. He’s one of Pelagaeus’ people.”

“Hmm.” Mavors turned to Boggin. “Tell your groundskeeper that whoever kills any of the children here, dies. No argument, no excuses, no phone calls from the Governor, no time to pray, just a pilum up their fundament. Got it?”

To Lady Cyprian, he said, “Ask your husband two things. First, is it acceptable to him to move the hostages to the Asphodel Fields? Second, is it acceptable to remove Nausicaa to Atlantis for safe-keeping, if it turns out that she is the one making the boundaries weak?”

“I’ll tell him if you kiss me. Otherwise, I’ll tell him you kissed me, and called him a crippled unmanly coward.”

“Well. Some people don’t think much of a man who lets himself get cuckolded and doesn’t stand up straight and do something about it. Of course, it’s not his fault he can’t stand up straight. But I never called him a coward. Maybe Brontes here will tell him the message, if you don’t.”

“So you’re not going to kiss me? I think about your kisses every night, when I am alone in bed…”

Mavors took a few brusque steps about the table toward her, but then, when he was about where the headless man was sitting, he slowed, and leaned on his javelin, and regained his composure. “Ah, no ma’am. I don’t think it would be seemly, considering. But you can tell your husband three things from me.

“One. There is not going to be a war unless he starts it.

“Two. If he moves troops or taloi in the vicinity of Mount Olympus, dons purple, dons a coronet, or attempts to wield the lightning, or claims the throne in any other way, that will start the war.

“Three. He will lose any war he fights with me. Do you understand the message?”

Her voice was demure. “Yes, my Lord, I understand.” I moved my head so I could see her again. She had lowered her eyelashes, and turned her head to one side, so that she looked dream-caught, breathtakingly lovely. There was a blush rising in her cheeks.

I knew what she was thinking, which I don’t think any guy, listening to her, would have known: she liked having Mavors give her orders.

Mavors was staring at her profile, trying to keep his face a mask. But I could see, even from here, the wonder in his eyes. He was dumbstruck at her beauty.

He squinted, and spoke again. “You can tell him one other thing. The Uranians are not going to wait forever. I am not going to wait forever. All he has to do is foreswear his claim to the throne, and vow fealty to me. I get the world; he gets you. I think it’s an even trade. You tell him that.”

He turned and, with a swirl and flap of his long coat, strode from the room.