Tamora Pierce - The Realms of the Gods

‘Petition the Great Gods, for all the good it will do.’ Weiryn’s reply could be heard by all. ‘They are too busy fighting Uusoae to ferry mortals back home. They won’t even reply to mind calls from us lesser gods.’

Numair looked at Gainel. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘but our friends are hard pressed. Might you send us home? You are one of the Great Gods, and you don’t look as if you are locked in combat with the Queen of Chaos.’

Gainel smiled, shadowed eyes flickering, and shook his head.

‘He says you forget your myths,’ Sarra told them. ‘Of the Great Gods, the Dream King alone cannot enter the Mortal Realms. He can only send his creatures to do his work there.’

‘Forgive me,’ Numair said politely. ‘I had forgotten.’

On Daine’s foot, caught in a beam of light that fell between her and Numair, something moved. Reshaping her eyes to those of a cat, she looked harder. An inky shadow had thrown a tentacle over her bare foot. Was it the darking that Weiryn had shot?

‘Pass the cheese?’ asked Broad Foot, nudging her with his head. She obliged, forking slices onto his plate. As the duckmole happily mashed cheese in his bill, she glanced at her companions. Queenclaw mildly batted a piece of bread to and fro. Her mother seemed to be conversing with Gainel, while Numair tried to learn from Weiryn if a human mage might have better luck in approaching the rulers of the Divine Realms.

‘I don’t see why you fuss about it so,’ Weiryn snapped. ‘Come the autumn equinox, you at least will be dragged back to your wars, and I wish you joy of them!’

‘They don’t give me joy, and I didn’t ask for them,’ Numair said, voice tight. ‘Would you prefer we let Ozorne and his allies roll over us?’

Daine palmed some cheese. Breaking off a piece, she let her hand drop to hang beside her leg, and offered the tidbit to the creature. Tentacles grabbed the cheese and pulled it into the shadow. Daine offered another morsel. The darking made that vanish, too.

‘By the way,’ Sarra told Gainel, ‘I think one of your servants might have escaped somehow and wandered here. It called itself a darking.’

Daine flinched. The shadow flinched, too, and slipped off her foot to hide in the darkness under the table.

The woman fumbled with her apron, then sighed, exasperated. ‘Look at this.’ She lifted her hand. Her fingers stuck out of the hole in the pocket. ‘It got away.’

The pale god covered Sarra’s pocket with one hand. White light shimmered, and an image of the darking appeared. Immediately the Dream King shook his head.

‘He’s never seen its like,’ Weiryn told the humans. Gainel’s light faded; he withdrew his hand from Sarra’s apron.

‘I told them you are strict with your subjects,’ said Queenclaw, grooming her tail.

Rising to his feet, Gainel nodded to them all, and vanished.

‘He’s terrible at good-byes,’ remarked Broad Foot. ‘Worse than a cat that way.’

‘I prefer to think he’s as good as a cat,’ retorted Queenclaw.

Sarra got to her feet. ‘Well, no amount of wondering and chatter will see that the dishes are done. Let’s get started, Daine.’

The girl looked up at her mother, surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had told her to assist with cleanup. She wanted to say that she was tired, but if she did, her mother would fuss, and no doubt feed her nasty-tasting potions. With a sigh, the girl rose. Accepting a stack of plates from Sarra, she bore them inside. A washtub sat on a table in the common room, steaming faintly.

Daine set her burden next to it and turned. Sarra blocked the garden door, a bottle in one hand, a cup in the other. The girl winced – so much for fooling her ma.

‘You overdid today, and you know it.’ She poured dark liquid into the cup. ‘Drink this, and off to bed with you.’

Daine took the cup, but didn’t drink. ‘Ma, why am I so weak? Are you sure it’s because I’m half mortal, or might it be something worse?’

Sarra shook her golden head. ‘You came here long before it was time,’ she said firmly. ‘The balance between your mortal and divine blood is delicate – a crossing like yours usually causes problems. They’re only temporary, I promise you. Now, drink, miss.’

It tasted as vile as she had feared. She kissed her mother’s cheek, went into her room, and closed the door.

A dull hiss filled Daine’s ears. Darkness covered her eyes.

Light dawned far ahead. It was impossible to tell if the scene that she now saw moved towards her, or if she flew to it. Within moments she was close enough to see two-leggers standing in a ring, arms overlapping, hands clasping their neighbours’ shoulders. In the middle of their circle a lump of material shifted and pulsed in the same colours as the Chaos vent had done. Daine turned her face away.

‘It’s all right.’ Rattail appeared beside her. ‘You can look. You must look.’

Daine obeyed.

At first the ring of men and women, and the thing at the hub, stood on black, empty space. One by one stars winked into being around them. With the added light, she could see the faces of those who formed the circle. Their names sprang into her mind as if she’d always known their true appearance: the Black God in his deep cowl and long robe, the Great Mother Goddess. Daine identified Kidunka, the world snake, lord of the Banjiku tribes, and even the K’miri gods of storms and fire. The large, powerful-looking black man in gold armour was Mithros himself. Looking from face to face, she saw that all of the Great Gods but one formed the ring.

The lump in their centre began to rise, changing colour swiftly. When it halted, a person stood there, bent nearly double. The hunched figure straightened. At first it was a gold-skinned woman with stormy grey hair and a simple grey dress. Within a breath, she changed. Her skin went yellow, her hair became twigs, her body sprouted a mass of tentacles. That, too, lasted briefly. She never kept one shape for long, but shifted constantly from patchwork to patchwork in combinations of things that lived and things that did not. Pincers grew on a cheetah’s forequarters; a cow’s head and a man’s legs were attached. Just to look at the changing thing made Daine’s stomach roll.

The creature lurched to the side, diving for the opening between the Wave Walker and the Black God; white fire appeared, to form a dome between gods and their captive. Half lion, half crone, she dropped and crawled for the gap between the Thief and the Smith, only to retreat howling after she touched the barrier.

‘Why don’t they kill her?’ Daine asked. ‘They just wear themselves out holding her in their circle, and she doesn’t seem to weaken at all.’

‘They are forbidden to, as she is forbidden to slay them,’ Rattail explained. ‘They can imprison and enslave each other, but Father Universe and Mother Flame, who made them all, will not let their children murder a sibling.’

The scene rippled like pond water and dissolved before her. Daine was flying backwards now, over a broad, perfectly flat plain. Looking around, wondering what had happened to the circle and the shifting monster, she discovered a long figure, Gainel. A gale whipped his shirt and breeches. He reached one hand out to her. A balance hung from his white fingers.

A crack opened under the Dream King’s feet. His left foot rested on that flat and barren floor. His right was planted to the ankle in grey-green muck that boiled and twisted.

Gainel vanished when Daine opened her eyes.

‘I have such peculiar dreams here,’ she complained to the ceiling. ‘Seemingly the Dream King wants me to know something, but why? Given my druthers, I’d druther have a good sleep.’ She sighed and rolled out of bed, to hit the floor with a bang. The floor was comfortingly solid.