Glen Cook - Petty Pewter Gods

"But you are a problem. Of the worst sort. You threaten our existence. You cannot possibly expect us to overlook that."

I swallowed about three times. The guy in the chair projected a furious temper, restrained only with great effort. I must have some power in the situation, though I couldn't catch a whiff. "How am I a threat?"

"You have been enlisted by the Godoroth to find the Temple Key. That simple name doesn't tell you that the group who fails to take possession of it will perish."

"I think you got the wrong guy. I don't know anything about any Temple Key."

A whispering filled the air. Ice formed on my tailbone and crawled northward.

"Curious, Mr. Garrett. Torbit says you are only partially lying. But." He rambled through an eyewitness review of my visit with the Godoroth. Maybe he was Imar in a good mood.

I searched the crowd, trying to get a good picture of faces. The Dead Man would want every detail—if ever we met again.

I said, "You got all the details, then you know I didn't agree to do anything. I just slid on out of there."

"There was an implication. You did not refuse."

"Won't stand up in court. Duress and coercion." Which got me a blank look. Duress and coercion? Wasn't that what being a god was all about? You could make people do what you wanted? Weren't mortals toys?

He took it his own way. "Granted, you did not swear allegiance to the Godoroth. That is good. But why, then, were you on the Street of the Gods asking questions? Why were you visiting temples?"

"I was pretty sure it was a con of some kind. Those Godoroth characters didn't convince me that they were real gods. They just told me that they were. They hadn't shown me anything a clever conjurer couldn't manage." If you overlooked my magic rope. "I figured somebody wanted to set me up."

My audience stirred. Most probably didn't understand me. The guy in the chair had to mull it over before he got it. Give him that. He could step out of his own viewpoint. Not that he credited the mortal viewpoint with much value.

That chill whisper filled the air momentarily.

"It appears that, once again, you are telling most of the truth. Very well. I believe you understand the situation. Foreign gods have come to TunFaire. They have been awarded a place on the Street of the Gods. This means great inconvenience and dislocation for many gods, but for us and the Godoroth it means one group or the other has to go. For my part, I do not care to fall into oblivion."

"Me neither."

"You still believe you are being hoodwinked?"

"It's starting to look like the real thing."

"I want that key, Mr. Garrett."

"I'll say a prayer for you."

Teensy thunderbolts crackled at his temples. Maybe it was something I said. He regained control. "You fled from my friends. If you are not in the service of the Godoroth, why run?"

"Give them an eye, chief. Most of them look like nightmares come true."

More teensy thunderbolts flickered. I wasn't doing too good here. I looked around. Things moving in and out of the light might have lurked under my bed when I was a kid. This was a much bigger crowd than the Godoroth. And not real friendly. Bad cess to the infidel, I guess.

"Where will you look for the key?"

"I'm not interested in any key. I just don't want to be between gangs of divine sociopaths who have no interest whatsoever in my welfare."

Crackly whisper in the air. Stir in the crowd, which seemed larger every time I checked. They were not all nightmares, either. This pantheon was well supplied with attractive goddesses, not one of whom had trouble with her hair and all of whom had normal teeth and the usual complement of limbs.

I didn't need the whispers translated. Torbit the Strayer—whatever he, she, or it was—had reported the truth of my lack of interest. No grail quest for me. Forget that Temple Key. Garrett has no desire to save any holy bacon. I said, "I have friends in the beer business who do care and who do need my help. I'd rather be solving their problems."

"There is little time, Mr. Garrett. We need a mortal to rescue us. Our remaining worshippers are few and of little value because of their age. Belief is not a requirement. Free will is. I see no more likely candidate than yourself. You work for hire. We have resources beyond your imagining."

Yeah. Everything but loving followers eager to bail your asses out.

I'm sure I didn't say that out loud. Must have been my body language. Dumb, to be twitching and aggravating the gods like that.

The head guy growled, "Put him into the lockup room. Some time with his thoughts should help him develop a new perspective."

I liked my old one fine, but several unpleasant fellows disagreed. I had seen them on their day jobs as gargoyles. And not only did they have heads like rocks, they had muscles of stone as well. We took a vote. The majority elected to go along with Lang's plan for an attitude adjustment. They lugged me through the house, up various flights of stairs, past a scattering of antique humans who had no trouble seeing us and who kowtowed to anything that moved. My companions chucked me into a large closet containing one ragged stolen army blanket (I knew it was stolen; otherwise it would still be in the army), one feeble fat candle, and two quart jars, one full and one empty. I presumed I was to be the middleman between jars.

The door closed. I gathered I was supposed to ruminate and quickly conclude that signing on with the Shayir was preferable to the alternatives. At the moment it looked like that could be true. I might have gone with that option had I not become distracted.

The dust hadn't settled when the door popped open and the owl girls invited themselves in. They hadn't bothered finding fresh clothing. They had mischief in their golden eyes, and "Uh-oh!" was all I got to say before they piled onto me.

They weren't great conversationalists. In fact, I didn't get anything out of them but giggles. I did my best to remain stern and fatherly and aloof, but they just took that as a challenge. I am nothing if not determined in my pursuit of information, so I continued to ask questions while I endured the inevitable.

After a while I began to fear the interrogation would never end. Those two only looked like girls.

Then they were gone and I was collapsing into exhausted sleep while trying to figure out what that had been all about. They hadn't tried to worm anything out of me or to get me to promise a thing. They were very direct, very focused, and very demanding.

The door opened. The woman who had gotten me into this mess stepped inside. She was in her redhead phase, and a very desirable redhead she was. She sniffed. "I see Lila and Dimna have been here." Her observation was as neutral as a remark about the weather.

"I don't know what they wanted .. ."

"What they wanted is what they got. They are direct and simple."

"Direct, anyway."

"Simple." She tapped her temple. "You find this form attractive?"

"I'll howl at the moon." Though she made no effort, she exuded sensuality. "But that won't get you anything."

"You're sated."

"Got nothing to do with it. I'm being pushed and bullied. I don't take to that much. I get stubborn."

"You have to understand something. If the Shayir don't get what they want, neither do you."

"And the Godoroth will think the same, so I can't win. But I can stay stubborn and take everybody with me." Damn. I didn't like the sound of the slop gushing out of my yap. I don't know if I believed it. I hoped that Torbit thing wasn't listening.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"To be left alone."

"That isn't going to happen. And you know it. A sensible man would cut himself a deal."

"I've already referred to the fatal flaw that renders that idea specious. Based on the record, it's only reasonable to assume that you all will fail to keep your half of any deal. Promise the fool mortal all the gold and girls he can handle, tell him he gets to be ruler of the world and several provinces in hell as soon as he delivers this nifty key that will save some divine butts." Speaking of divinity of the foundation, she knew the nature of perfection. "When we're done we'll turn his mortal ass into a catfish or something."