Glen Cook - Working God's Mischief

“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.”