Working God's Mischief

9. Realm of the Gods: Twilight of the World

Gray smoke boiled out of the face of the Great Sky Fortress. A fierce rumble descended upon Piper Hecht and his companions, followed by a hailstorm of debris. Two smaller explosions followed that.

“What the hell?” Heris demanded. “What was that?”

“Somebody tripped my booby trap,” Hecht replied.

“Who could?” Anna asked. “Everybody is out.”

Debris kept falling. The stench of burnt firepowder arrived.

Hecht watched Eavijne. The explosion had so startled her that she had lost her hold on Heartsplitter, then her footing. She snatched at Geistrier but snagged it with just one finger. She lost her sack of apples, then her grip when she tried to save the fruit.

She commenced the long fall. Knife-edged basalt awaited two thousand feet below.

The ascendant changed shape, violently and painfully. He screamed as he plunged after Eavijne, a giant eagle driving itself downward faster than the goddess fell.

That was drama enough to halt all progress down the road to the harbor.

Heris asked, “Did you include godshot in your booby trap, Piper?”

“I did. Everything I could find, including two falcons. Whoever set it off has to be one of the devils.”

“That’s probably good thinking.”

The eagle caught the falling goddess. The pair passed out of sight.

Heris said, “How about we get on down, too? Before somebody gets into mischief down there.”

Hecht grunted. He was watching the rent in the Great Sky Fortress.

Heris suggested, “We might cobble up a couple more infernal devices.” She helped Hecht stare.

The breeze dispersed the smoke.

Hecht said, “Didn’t do damage enough.”

A black stain like heavy treacle flowed out of the breach and down the face of the fortress. Its boundaries were defined. It left no trail.

“The Trickster,” Hecht said. “He broke out.”

“The violent vibrations of the hammer mill must have weakened some of the seals. We didn’t notice.”

“That would explain why we felt his emotions toward the end. We should have been suspicious.”

“Stuff happens when you get in a hurry. The bucket is turned over now. Let’s get down there. I have the tools to deal with this.”

Hecht was amazed. Heris remained unconcerned. The escape of a seriously wicked Instrumentality was just a piece of business to be handled.

While the old folks fussed the girls ran to the edge of the gap to see what happened to Asgrimmur and Eavijne. Lila said, “Can’t see them. But they’ll be the first ones down.”

The girls considered the creeping stain on the face of the fortress. They considered the bridge, then the gap beneath. They whispered. Then Vali darted across the bridge.

Hecht bit down on a potentially distracting bellow. Asgrimmur was not there to catch another falling girl.

Anna held her tongue, too.

Pella said, “I love her, but that girl is a freak.”

Hard to argue, watching her fearless dash across colorful air.

Vali whipped Geistrier off the brass post and headed back, coiling as she came. She plucked Heartsplitter out of the fabric of the bridge, then managed it and the rope both as she came on.

Anna said, “You’d almost think she was one of them.”

“Yes.” For the first time in a long time Hecht wondered about Vali Dumaine.

She came straight to him, handed him the spear. “Can you believe it’s that light?”

Hecht exchanged looks with Anna while the others watched Geistrier shorten to its original length.

Vali tied the coil to her belt. “Where did that hammer end up? I bet we could break the bridge with it.”

The creeping treacle had vanished behind the curtain wall surrounding the Great Sky Fortress.

Hecht responded, “That could be. But it’s not here. Girl, we need to talk about you taking risks.” From the corner of his eye he caught Lila pulling a face at Vali, then smirking.

Heris said, “Save the lecture, Piper. We’re going to be last down the mountain as it is.”

“Let’s get hiking.”

Anna quipped, “This should be easier than coming up.”

“Kids. No running.”

* * *

The black stain flowed into Eavijne’s garden. It possessed just enough energy to keep moving. Saturated with silver dust, it suffered abiding agony. Already diminished by its struggle to break through compromised seals, it had not been alert enough to smell the silver powder trap.

It lived, but with little power or strength, little ability to reason, and little sense of identity. Instinct took it to the orchard where it found just one overlooked, shriveled green apple that did little to restore it.

It did what no rational god would have done. It engulfed the only living tree. It understood the enormity of its action only after it finished.

That was the last tree. There might be no more golden fruit. Starved for life and restored immortality, the Trickster might have written the deaths of all the Old Ones.

Hatred and rage so possessed him that he did not care for long.

He took the shape of a slim youth of middle height, his hair a mixture of streaks and shades of ginger that made it look like his head was on fire. He had a hatchet face, flushed because of his emotional state.

He stepped through the broken orchard wall, headed for the rainbow bridge. He thought he was moving brisk and businesslike. An observer might have suspected intoxication or mental defect.

He started across.

Once again hunger trumped reason.

He swallowed some of the magic holding the bridge together. It was Aelen Kofer magic. He did not gain much from it. He would need massive draughts to benefit, like a man surviving by eating grass and river mud.

The rainbow unraveled.

He cried out once, startled, as he began his fall.

He had stolen just enough magic to change into a generic-looking gliding thing that, nevertheless, could do no more than slow its descent enough to choose a place to smack down.

The harbor extended a siren call but it was in the open. He would be seen.

He did not want his escape to be known. There was revenge to pursue.

He passed over the Aelen Kofer town, toward the scrubby wilderness beyond. One wing tip brushed a stunted treetop. He spun. He hit the ground hard. Pain became his universe.

Even gods, if incautious or inattentive, must suffer the laws of physics.

* * *

Gods, goddesses, and middle-world folk crowded the Aelen Kofer tavern. Vast quantities of ale disappeared. The dwarves had been kind enough to leave many barrels.

Ferris Renfrow and Cloven Februaren dragged themselves well under the weather. Asgrimmur tried but no longer had the knack. He was trapped in eagle form. Eavijne was not there to celebrate with or for him. The instant she set her feet on solid ground she rushed off to recover her dropped nubbins. Anna became tipsy. The children became incensed because they were allowed neither to celebrate nor to wander out of sight. Pella, especially, thought he could be helping Eavijne.

Hecht whispered to Heris, “I thought you were hot to get down here and suck up some of Iron Eyes’s finest.”

“I was. I am. But I can’t let my hair down till I have everything tied up. I don’t.”

“Uhm?”

“You saw what came off the mountain behind us.”

“The Trickster, I presume.”

“No one else. So what I’m going to do is get some sleep, then I’ll get out there and do something about him.”

Hecht had questions. He let them slide. What Heris hoped to accomplish remained an enigma. It did seem obvious that the Trickster had to be eliminated from the process.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Piper…”

“Knock it off, Heris. You know…”

“By Aaron’s Hairy Balls, Piper! Are we two of a kind, or what?”

“Or what, as Pinkus would say. You’re right. Neither of us can help thinking we know better than the whole damned rest of the world. Lucky for me, I’m right.”

“The folk of Santerin have a word for what’s coming out of your mouth. That word, rendered in my finest Church Brothen, is bullshit!”

A snicker interrupted them.

Cloven Februaren had appeared, quietly. “You kids want to do some god-hunting, you’d better round up all the allies you can. The Trickster is a first-ranker. He won’t go quietly.”

Hecht admitted, “He’s got a point.”

Heris nodded. “He does. You volunteering, Double Great?”

“After I sleep it off. Though I’d say volunteerism isn’t relevant. The Trickster has to be dealt with if the rest of us want to get out of here. So, tame him or kill him. Soon. Because we’re locked up till Iron Eyes knows that letting us out won’t be a disaster for the Nine Worlds.”

“Right,” Heris admitted. “So get your sleep. We’ll start early.”

“Where are you going?” Hecht asked.

“To the smithy. To find out what tools and options the Aelen Kofer left. Then I’ll put me away for the night, too.”

* * *

Februaren asked, “How many friends does Lucke have amongst our Old Ones?”

“Luck?” Hecht asked, looking past the old man at the Instrumentalities joining the hunt.

“The Trickster. He’s like Ordnan. His name is seldom spoken. It has a lot of regional variants. Luke. Lucke. Luche. Luck. And others.”

“Oh. Right. Where’s Heris?”

“Here,” from behind him.

Februaren said, “He’s out there. He’s badly hurt. On the surface it looks like he has no friends and no way of regaining any strength. Eavijne got her fruit back-with Pella’s devoted assistance.”

Ferris Renfrow, ragged and hung over, arrived. He grumbled, “So let’s do this. So I can go back to bed.”

Hecht exchanged glances with Heris. They had been killing gods long enough to know that the Trickster still had options, especially if he was up for a little divine cannibalism.

The myths did not define his limits or boundaries.

Heris asked, “Double Great, do you or your cronies have any idea where he is? Or how strong he is?”

“He’s weak as a baby. As gods go. Weaker than Kharoulke was. And getting weaker because there is no magic to tap. I can’t tell you where he is. I do know the right direction.”

“Thank you.” Heris exchanged looks with Hecht.

Hecht asked, “What resources do we have now that we didn’t have on top of the mountain?” He had seen the gap in the rainbow bridge.

“Lots of iron. Aelen Kofer love iron. And some silver. That surprised me. I thought for sure they’d take every grain. And there’s a partial keg of firepowder but nothing to use it in except a couple of old hand-helds.”

“We won’t need to shoot him if he isn’t agile. We can scatter coins and iron filings on him and watch him melt.”

Heris said, “There aren’t any coins. The dwarves took those. Unless you have some in your pocket.”

“A few pennies. I’ll ask Anna and the kids. They’ll have a few in their shoes or up their sleeves.”

* * *

Hecht, Heris, Februaren, the Bastard, and the ascendant formed the advance party. Asgrimmur flapped around overhead, scouting. He was hard to understand when he shouted down. A half-dozen Old Ones followed at a distance.

The Trickster was not hard to find. He was a straight walk out through uncomfortable terrain, still where he had fallen, two miles from the Aelen Kofer town.

He was a disappointment. A once major Instrumentality had become a semitransparent blob pulsating slowly amongst the rocks and debris of the woodland floor. That blob inspired neither fear, nor awe, nor dread. Dirt and broken leaves covered it. It leaked. In the middle world it would have been the focus of a storm of insects.

Hecht said, “Let’s kill it and go.” He pointed his hand-held at a purple-brown kidney shape inside the blob.

Which began a feeble flow into the shadow under a rock overhang. Before Hecht fired, Februaren asked, “Why not try to make contact? We could have the cleverest god ever managing our dirty tricks for us.”

Asgrimmur waddled close. He tried biting the blob. Hecht suspected the ghosts he harbored wanted some vengeance of their own.

Heris said, “Or we can kill him and never have to watch our backs.”

She and Hecht fired their hand-helds. Hecht followed up with silver coins. Heris scattered iron filings from the smithy.

A divine psychic shriek followed, freighted with despair and disbelief, the death cry of an entity long convinced that its end was a mystic impossibility.

The blob began to liquefy and melt into the soil.

Heris observed, “I’d say this is anticlimactic.”

“But useful in the extreme.” Hecht nodded toward the posse of gods watching. “Look at them. Appalled. Crushed. The shiftiest one of all got rubbed out by a couple of middle-world mortals. Let’s hope they keep that in mind.”

Renfrow, Februaren, and Asgrimmur all made noises of indeterminate meaning. Renfrow added, “And the Gray Walker did nothing to keep that from happening.”

Asgrimmur croaked, “Patience ran out.”

In myth Ordnan had tolerated mischief, wickedness, and outright betrayal. In myth Lucke was supposed to bring on the fall of the Old Ones. His children would be great monsters on the plain of final combat, fighting against the Old Ones.

Hecht said, “This kind of changes all that, doesn’t it?”

Februaren said, “All that changed at al-Khazen.”

Renfrow said, “Or al-Khazen could have been the Twilight struggle beginning. The myths could just be an interpretation.”

Hecht did not want to hear that hypothesis.

The last of the liquefied Instrumentality sank into the earth.

Heris said, “Suggestions? Anyone? Let him be? Dig all this up and burn it? Scatter it? Mix in poison, like iron ore that will kill him if he tries to pull himself back together?”

Renfrow said, “How about all of the above? Heating this earth in a smelter with the iron ore.” He showed a thin smirk.

Heris eyed him suspiciously.

He said, “When you’ve been around as long as me it gets easy to infer plans from actions. You’ve been especially interested in the smithy.”

Februaren asked, “Where’s the egg? There ought to be a big one. Right?”

Heris said, “So Renfrow sees what I’ve been thinking. We’ll need every able body, though. Renfrow. One last time. Would anyone here try to help the Trickster get through this?”

“No.” But, then, “Not on the surface. Secretly, maybe. The motives of the Night…”

“Mysterious ways. Asgrimmur, flap back there and tell those folks what we’re going to do.”

The eagle gave a raptor shriek, clumsily took to the air.

Watching his short flight, Hecht said, “I think he likes the eagle shape.”

Februaren responded, “He’d better. He’ll be stuck in it if we don’t get out of here.”

Asgrimmur returned, settled heavily onto a boulder. He spoke slowly and carefully. “We do not have much time. The world is dying. What used to be … the distance is all fog and gray.” He flew away again.

“Isn’t that special news?” Heris said.

Februaren said, “Worth keeping in mind.”

Rattled, Renfrow asked, “You do have a plan for getting out, don’t you?”

Heris growled, “We would’ve been gone already if this asswipe hadn’t gotten loose.” She kicked the ground.

People and divinities brought tools and buckets. Heris took a shovel, turned over some earth, told them, “I need all the dirt that looks like it’s soaked with oil. Haul it back to the smithy.”

She filled two buckets and headed out.

* * *

Heris had paid attention when Khor-ben Jarneyn had waxed eloquent about dwarfish industrial techniques.

“The girl is like that,” Cloven Februaren grumbled. “Iron Eyes bored the socks off the rest of us. The more excited he got, the more boring he was. But Heris ate it up. You want to talk dirty to that girl, talk the metallurgy of the Night.”

“You’re in a fine mood, Double Great,” Heris said, breaking dirt up and feeding it to the smithy furnace, burning just warm enough to cook the moisture out and hot enough to kill anything living in the soil that the Trickster could use as a condensation point. That done, she increased the heat, created several hundred pounds of grossly impure glass. The liquid went into ceramic molds once used to cast ingots. It cooled. And at the center of one lay a glowing soul egg that looked like it contained living fire.

“Look at this, Piper! Am I a genius, or what?”

“When it comes to doing nasty unto the Night, you are the queen.”

Heris sweet-talked the one male god into showing off by demonstrating how far out into the harbor he could chuck the glass ingots. But the one containing the fiery egg she took to the tavern, where it went on display.

Asking Ferris Renfrow, Cloven Februaren, and Asgrimmur to be attentive to potential reservations and possible loopholes, Heris treated the Old Ones to a fresh round of oath bindings. She then told Hecht, “Finally! I can settle down and have a beer.” And, then, “If I get too drunk don’t any of you bastards take advantage of me.” Then she broached her own small keg of dark ale.

* * *

Piper Hecht had a hangover, his first ever. He did not enjoy it. Nor did the fact that so many others suffered equally improve his mood. Anna and the children had avoided the curse by going to bed before the celebration got rowdy.

“I didn’t do anything but take a few sips,” Hecht complained to Asgrimmur. He got no sympathy. The ascendant had been unable to do the kind of drinking he would have liked. Drinking had been a manly art in the culture of his youth.

Hecht had nursed one mug all evening, shaking his head at the Old Ones. They, like their original worshippers, thought a good time was to get stinking drunk and start a fight.

They had done some serious damage to the tavern.

Anna brought Hecht a breakfast of ham slices and cheese chunks. Both were old and smoked and required determined chewing. “Piper, tell Heris we really need to get out of here. The Instrumentalities are devouring everything. We’ll be down to nothing but beer tomorrow.”

Hecht grunted. He rubbed the heels of his hands against his temples. That did not help. “Are we out of bread?”

“Yes. And most of the ingredients for baking it. We have a little cured meat and hard cheese. Even the dried fruit is gone.”

Vali materialized. “I found some onions, Dad. Must be two hundred pounds.”

Onions sounded better than desiccated ham.

“None of us will mind onions before long. Now what?” The Old Ones had just jumped as though collectively goosed. They began murmuring.

“Get Heris.” Hecht produced his handheld firepowder weapon. It clunked against the tabletop.

He had no match handy but doubted that would matter. The Old Ones did not understand the weapons. They had trouble with most things mechanical. That was Aelen Kofer stuff.

He chewed tough meat and watched. Heris joined him. She chewed tough meat, watched, and said nothing, either.

Cloven Februaren arrived. Ferris Renfrow followed. Both were suffering.

Februaren moaned, “In a sane world an accomplished sorcerer could banish a hangover in seconds.”

Renfrow grunted and growled, “In a world with color and magic.”

There was no color in the tavern whatsoever, which Hecht took to indicate a total lack of magic.

He felt his left wrist. His amulet was there.

Februaren noted the movement. Weakly, he said, “No magic at all.”

Two Old Ones left their crowd. Male and female, they looked like healthy humans about forty years of age. Hourlr and Hourli. They were twins. And not originally Shining Ones. They were Raneul, gods the Old Ones had defeated in the War of the Gods. Some of the defeated had left their world for the Realm of the Gods after that war’s end.

The curious character inside Piper Hecht wanted to ask questions until he ferreted out details of that conflict.

The twins faced him. Their manner was respectful. The female said, “It is plain that you do not trust us, despite the oaths and assurances you have extracted.”

“Talk to Heris.” He indicated his sister. “She decides here.” A nod.

“As you wish.” Hourli nodded.

The male god spoke to her. “You judge us all by the example of Lucke. You believe that his behavior is what can be expected of us all. That is not the way it will be.”

Hecht was inclined to observe that only one rogue Instrumentality was needed to bring on the pain. He kept silent.

Heris said, “Most knowledge of you has vanished from the middle world. You live on only in the folk stories of peasants and Asgrimmur’s recollections from the Great Sky Fortress. And in the Bastard’s mind. None of those sources offer any reason to trust the Shining Ones.”

“Perhaps. The mortal perspective must, of necessity, be different. However, mortality is being taken into account. We are investing in our own survival. We must immigrate to the middle world for the power. While we are there, during your time, we will cleave to our promises. Without trickery. Without treachery. Without legalistic mumbo jumbo being used to evade understood obligations. We face extinction. That is no sweet prospect.”

The female divinity continued, speaking to Hecht. “It used to be thought best for us to be seen as clever and tricky-though that reputation came more from muddled, delusional mortal thinking than from deliberate divine mischief.”

Hecht was not sure he understood, but that sounded good.

* * *

Korban Iron Eyes burst into the tavern, stumbled, nearly fell. Audacious but inauspicious. A dozen short, wide, hairy, ferocious-looking dwarves followed. All wore armor and an arsenal of sharps.

The Aelen Kofer.

Every dwarf had a slow match sputtering atop his or her helmet. Every dwarf’s personal weaponry included at least two handheld falcons.

Hecht muttered to Heris, “I didn’t think it would be long before they started playing with firepowder toys.”

“Good news, them turning up, though.”

The return of the dwarves meant a way out of the Realm of the Gods. If Iron Eyes decided to let them go.

None of the Old Ones bullied the Aelen Kofer. Wise, considering survival was at stake.

The crown prince of the dwarves strutted around, eyeballing each Old One and middle-worlder. He got the cold eye from Piper Hecht, then a snicker.

“Something amusing you?”

“Your hair is on fire.”

“Yikes!” Smoldering because of a rogue slow match, Khor-ben Jarneyn was less intimidating than he hoped.

Jarneyn’s son dumped water on his father’s head. The indignity wrung the tension out of the moment.

Iron Eyes pretended amusement. “Heris. Girl. You’ve exceeded my expectations. You winkled them out and you tamed them. What were the odds?”

Copper said, “I knew you’d do it.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Nothing of the sort had been in the younger dwarf’s mind. He sputtered like the match atop his helmet.

“Just messing with you. Iron Eyes, stop pretending to be some serious badass and help us get out of this dump before we starve.”

“Living on onions and beer? Sounds like paradise to me.”

“You’ve been listening at keyholes.”

Hecht was startled. That was daring. Iron Eyes had a real capacity to make her miserable. “Heris.”

“I know. I’ll stop, now.”

Iron Eyes said, “I apologize. I really didn’t think you’d get it under control.”

“We’re all set. Agreements are in place. In exchange for freedom the Shining Ones will help Piper. And, once they have their strength back, they’ll help with Kharoulke’s extended family. So. Talk to me about how to get home.”

“It’s pretty basic, my love. Same as when we opened the way for your elderly relative, before. Pack your bags and strap on your sea legs.”

“All right.” Heris started to rise.

“Let me look around first. Just to make sure everything is what it seems.”

“You’re the judge. You get to do whatever you want. That was our deal.”

“Such a mixture of temptation. Letting everything just fade away is huge. The Aelen Kofer would feel that some balance had been achieved. But we did make promises. Though we reserved the right to be flexible concerning our own survival.”

“But not so worried that somebody might recognize you as major bullshitters. Come on, Iron Eyes! I’ve seen you in action. I know what you’re up to.”

“You are a marvel, Heris. I do wish you had been born Aelen Kofer. I’d add you to my harem.”

“Pity, that.” As one of the squat and hairies delivered a solid punch to the crown prince’s left bicep. “But I’d insist on exclusive rights. So, we’re going sailing.”

“Rowing. It’s the only way.”

“A half truth but why cavil about paths through the world of the Aelen Kofer? I want to go home. Though I do have something to do before we go.” She left briskly. Iron Eyes exchanged interrogatory glances with the men around the table, then shrugged.

Heris came back with the soul eggs of the Trickster, Red Hammer, and Zyr. She fumbled them onto a table facing the Shining Ones, indicated which was which. “It’s possible I could restore these three. I’m the only one who can. I’ll hear arguments, for and against. I’ll keep in mind the characters of the individuals.” Not so subtly saying she was disinclined to hear support for the Trickster.

The gods had opinions. They expressed those, loudly.

“Stop!” Heris barked. “I don’t want a debate. We’ll vote. And I claim a vote for myself. First, Lucke. I vote for no mercy. The son of a bitch stays here.”

Six Old Ones agreed. Sprenghul and Fastthal dithered, then reluctantly agreed with the others.

Little patience was accorded them. They were the least of the rescued Instrumentalities.

“All right. Excellent. The Trickster stays.” She indicated the soul egg of the war god. “I have no opinion. I know nothing about him. I’ll vote only if there’s a tie.”

A tiebreaker was not needed. The quiet, no longer well-known Zyr was universally respected. His peers seemed to think he should take over as top deity. He was the eldest and wisest.

“Which leaves Red Hammer, no thinker or planner, which is why he ended up this way. I’ve heard the arguments about him. They don’t make me think that he won’t do something else deadly stupid if I restore him.”

The Old Ones voted. Three were in favor of restoration. Two were against it. Hourli and Hourlr abstained, as did Red Hammer’s stepdaughter, Aldi.

The rest did not care, one way or another.

Heris said, “I’ll stand with the nays. For now. Meaning we have a three way tie. Iron Eyes. Take care of Lucke and Red Hammer. Lucke to be left here. Red Hammer can go home with you and be preserved. And why do I see a gleam in your beady little eyes, all of a sudden?”

“Lucke at the mercy of the Aelen Kofer? When he has done so much evil to us? Priceless.”

“You can’t take revenge on him, Iron Eyes.”

“But…”

“To do that you’d need to restore him. That can’t happen. Avoiding any chance of a comeback is why I want to leave him here. If he leaves this world, sooner or later he’ll come into contact with people like those in the Connec who wanted to resurrect those Old Ones there.”

Iron Eyes gave these Old Ones an ugly look. “So you’ll lay it all off on me?”

“For now. One day when Red Hammer isn’t a danger anymore I’ll bring him back.”

Sheaf protested.

Heris told her, “Not for a while. I don’t want him coming out swinging again. Understand?”

Piper Hecht caught Februaren’s eye. His ancestor seemed astounded by the modern Heris, too.

* * *

A ship lay against the quay in the harbor. The derelict was a permanent fixture. It barely remained afloat. When the magic was strong, though, it became the golden barge of the gods.

Dwarf oarsmen drove the barge across the harbor till it encountered an invisible barrier. From the quay the view to seaward ended in fog. At the barrier, though, a good hard squint let a viewer see the middle world beyond: choppy, dark gray, frigid waters scattered with random chunks of ice calved not far to the north. This corner of the middle world had forsaken summer.

Iron Eyes told the Old Ones, “Brace yourselves. The middle-world magic isn’t strong anymore but what remains will bite sharper than anything you’ve tasted in years. Don’t lose yourselves when it hits you.”

Asgrimmur had assumed a solitary station aft. Hecht asked Heris, “Is he sulking?”

“He’s scared. He doesn’t want to walk the Construct again. Last time he nearly didn’t make it out the other end.”

“I know that terror.” His experiences had been soul-crushing. “Though it wasn’t so bad doing it in a big family glob. Tell him to fly. He’s got wings.”

“Good idea. Though he’d really like to get his human shape back.”

Iron Eyes and his crew worked on the gate to the middle world. Everyone recognized the instant the first gap opened.

The gods gasped. Several shrieked. Faint though it was, the magic tasted delicious.

“Easy!” Iron Eyes bellowed. “Don’t make me knock heads!”

The gods became restless but rationality survived. Iron Eyes went around reminding them that only patience would assure survival. The way had to be opened so the barge could pass through.

Threads of color raced through the harbor water. Golden light sparked on decomposing wood.

“And here we go,” Iron Eyes soon said. “Discipline couldn’t last.”

Several Old Ones abandoned human form to become gray mists that tangled and struggled to get to the magic.

“They’ll spread some terror round the islands where the mer live,” Februaren said.

The hunger overpowered several more. Heris said, “Let’s hope they remember their obligations.”

The opening of the way continued. Iron Eyes proceeded cautiously. Hecht asked, “You expecting trouble?”

“After what Heris did to Kharoulke? With the obvious assistance of the Aelen Kofer? Why would I be careful sliding into his world? His ilk will want to make sure that never happens to them.”

“Can’t stop it now. The knowledge is loose. Not even God Himself can make it go away.”

Blasphemy! God could do anything. There were no limits on Him.

Hecht wanted to believe that. He could not. Not anymore.

“That truth won’t keep the primal Instrumentalities from trying, Commander of the Righteous.”

No doubt.

Asgrimmur came up to check the size of the opening as the last two Old Ones surrendered to their hunger. He raised a wing some, let it relax. “Almost time. Heris. Be careful making your transition.” He hopped onto the rail, balanced precariously, flung himself forward. He came within inches of ending up wet. He did dip each wing tip once before gaining altitude.

Hecht asked Heris, “There something going on between you two?”

“Not yet.”

“Heris!”

“I didn’t mean that the way you’re thinking. Though it wouldn’t be any of your damned business if I did.”

“Heris!” He tried out his boss male voice.

“Butt out, little brother. Or look forward to a long walk home. Shouldn’t take you more than three months if you survive the swim to Friesland.”

Februaren and Renfrow were amused but kept quiet.

Heris grumbled, “For thirty-eight years men told me what I could and couldn’t do. And I was miserable. That’s done. I’ll make my own misery, now, thank you very much.”

Februaren made a small gesture, out of her sight, suggesting that Hecht shut the hell up.

“As you will,” Hecht said, conceding her personal sovereignty, but confused by her desire.

Each time he thought he had adapted his new world smacked him with something else.

Iron Eyes shouted in the Aelen Kofer tongue. The oars backed water. The barge rotated, then surged through the gateway.

Even Piper Hecht felt the difference when the barge crossed over.

Renfrow was gone in seconds, by whatever means he used. That left only Piper Hecht and his hodgepodge family.

Heris asked, “Double Great, are you going with the rest of us? Or are you up to something of your own?”

Februaren’s answer seemed more calculated than it should have been. So Hecht thought.

“I have my own chores to attend. I’ll see you at the townhouse.” He vanished with an audible pop.

Heris told the others, “Get in here close, around Piper. Anna, you and Pella need to be in the middle, too. Lila and Vali, same as before. Piper, hang on to this.” She handed him the soul egg of Zyr, wrapped in Aelen Kofer cheesecloth.

He was startled by the weight. It was as heavy as iron. “What?”

“Just hang on to it. Going through. I’ll need my hands free. You drop it in transit, we’ll all end up sorry. Maybe. I can’t say for sure. I just know that I can’t take you home and mess with that at the same time. Pella. Come.”

The boy was admiring the cold Andorayan Sea and cliffs of ice to the north. His aunt had destroyed the Windwalker up there just a way.

Hecht shoved the egg inside his shirt, adjusting it securely.

Korban Iron Eyes shouted at his rowers to turn the barge. He meant to head right back into the Realm of the Gods.

The family Hecht clumped up. Iron Eyes said, “In a few hours there’ll be no more Nine Worlds. We’ll seal the Realm and let it die. Heris. Caution your ancestor against jumping in there again. He’ll die. There will be nothing left but the Trickster’s soul egg.”

“I’ll tell him, though I can’t imagine him wanting to go back.”

“It’s been a joy knowing you, Heris. Recall the Aelen Kofer well, with an occasional much of ale, if you can.”

Hecht grasped what Heris did not. Iron Eyes was saying goodbye forever. He meant to have no congress with the middle world henceforth. For him this was a chapter writ complete.

Hecht felt the soul egg. It now felt as heavy as a dozen bricks, and warm, but it was secure. He wrapped arms around Anna and Pella, who did the same to him. Heris and the girls squished in hard against the core threesome, holding onto one another as well.

The light went out for Piper Hecht.