Enchanter (Book 7) (45 page)

“I don’t know a lick of Cormeeran,” I warned him.

“It means ‘the Remorseful’.  It’s the avatar he embodied after the failed attempt to increase Perwyn’s landmass.  The Cormeerans believe that Avital survived, made it to the shores of Cormeer, and spent a lifetime repenting of his folly with one mad invention after another.”

“Well that sounds depressing as five hells!” I snorted.

“That’s why I like to get out of town, after a civilization falls,” he chuckled, tipsily.  “You just have to understand the Cormeeran perspective on such things, I suppose.  Hopelessly fatalistic, yet brilliantly celebratory of such failures.  They make it work.  But Avital Damatuko manifests with some regularity, according to my sources, and could be summoned if you do it right.”

“If I do it right?  Shouldn’t I get a theurge, or one of his own priests?”

“We’ll likely need at least one of his high priests, certainly,” Herus nodded.  “But as to the rest, well, let me arrange for the details.  It’s going to be a delicate matter, I think, and require a certain timing.  Not really the sort of work I’m used to.”

“Get Briga’s help,” I suggested.  “She’s great at meticulous stuff.  When?”

“That’s the thing,” he shrugged, again.  “It’s a matter of timing.  When the right moment arises, I think we can coax him into existence long enough to make him an offer.  And believe me, he’s just the god you need, Min, if you want to keep experimenting with the Snowflake.  Magic and science, engineering and math . . . he’s one of the better embodiments of human learning still lingering around.”

“Fair enough,” I nodded.  “Anyone else?”

“Two others, neither one terribly useful on the first step, but they might be boon companions.  The first is Falassa, Mother of Healthful Herbs.”

“I’ve heard of her.  Popular in the Wilderlands,” I nodded.

“That’s where I found her.  She’s a seasonal goddess, and not particularly powerful but she’s around, if you want her.  And then there’s Bova.”

That got my attention, quickly.

“Bova?  The
Cow
Goddess?”

“The very same,” he said, wincing.  “Found her masquerading as a milk maid at the largest dairy estate in Castal.  Nice goddess.  Not real bright.”

“What else does she do?” I asked.  Most of the Narasi pantheon had multiple spheres of power, from what I understood. 

“As a craft goddess, besides milking, calving, cheesemaking, leatherwork – touchy subject – and butter churning, she takes an occasionally foray as a psychopomp.  But she’s a protective divinity, first and foremost, Watcher of the Herds.  Culturally she’s associated with plenty, prosperity, bounty, fertility—”

“Oh, excellent!” I complained, sarcastically, “that is just what I need right now!”

“—wholesome beauty,” he continued, ignoring me, “perfume, good manners, nurturing motherhood, oaths, patience . . . oh, and she knows how to make magical dairy products.  Milk that can turn any man into a hulking warrior, cream to turn any woman into a personification of fecund wholesome beauty, a cheese that can bestow wisdom, and she does something with curds and menstruation—”

“Enough,” I said, holding up my hand.  “Would she be an asset?  An ally?”

“It was Boval Vale that was the start of this,” Herus sighed.  “A vale named for her, but never consecrated to her.  She’s a little pissed off about it”

I couldn’t help but snort.  “And that’s useful to us?”

“It is when she manifests in her bellicose aspect,” he said.  “Ever see a mother cow protect her calf?  She’s not the best warrior goddess, but she’s
committed.
  And where she goes, her sisters often come along.  Goddesses of chickens, turkeys, goats, and their mean sister, the Sow Goddess.  Beastly woman.”

“What about Falassa?”

“She’s of debatable value.   A minor folksy crone goddess of healing and wisdom.  Good heart, simple aspect, makes a hell of a cup of tea.  A favorite of hedgewitches and herbalists, of course, and – unlikely enough – a patroness of poisoners.  Like Peras, without all the pretentiousness.  Not much of an asset, but hardly a liability.”

“I don’t really see Sheruel sipping poisoned tea,” I agreed.  “Still, one never knows which of you minor divinities is going to prove useful.”

“Ouch!” he said, with false indignity.  “Keep it up, Wizard.  You’ll have bunions before you know it.”

“You know what I mean.  Why haven’t we considered pursuing Orvatas?  Or Duin?”

“Because the Lord of the Skies usually only manifests in the middle of major storms, and the Lord of War is just not the sort of divinity you want to hold continuity, in most of his manifestations.  But he would be a challenge to Ishi.  The two are known to have a long-standing affair.”

“Do we really want the God of War stomping around Vorone, in pursuit of the Goddess of Love?” I proposed. 

“It doesn’t sound like a very stable environment,” he conceded.  “Look, Min, I’ve only been at this a couple of months – the novelty of still being me when I wake up is still at play.  I’ll find more candidates, but we have to be careful that we only invite the right sort of gods to this party.  That’s the sort of thing that takes human wisdom, not divine.  Which is why we need a great and powerful wizard.  But you’ll do, until one comes along.”

It was better than bunions.

One would think that communing with the gods personally like that might give one insight into the nature of the divine.  But traveling with Brother Hotfoot on such an easy mission meant that the monk was far more easily distracted by the wonders of the road than he had been in Alshar.  His appreciation of his own permanence was also a distraction, as he ran across things that inspired memories from earlier incarnations. 

We met with the Woolbrothers, local yeomen, and Lord Arkid at Maddarch Tower, as arranged, and it was agreed that Heeth the Butler would be installed there as the domain’s Spellward and warmage, available to castle and abbey alike.  The monks were impressed with Heeth’s scholarly bearing, while Sire Arkid was equally impressed at the military eye he cast on the tower.  Not only was it agreed to support him in his new seat, but both parties were cautiously optimistic about the benefits of having a warmage around. 

Fistan Abbey was also very receptive to the invitation to the Sevendori Ecumenical Council, to be held in Sevendor Town at High Summer, at the Feast of Luin, that Brother Hotfoot presented them.  The monks were interested, he revealed later that night, more because they feared the other temples would attempt to use their combined weight against them than because of a spirit of ecumenical cooperation.  Sister Bemia was respected, though her temple and Fistan Abbey were somehow rivals.  I wondered how Landfather Miton felt about that.

That night while I enjoyed Heeth’s hospitality at his installation, I received a call, mind-to-mind, from Pentandra.

Min, we’ve got problems
, she began, without so much as asking about my day.

What kind of problems?
I asked, my mind whirling with the possibilities
.  Alka Alon?  Royal?  Ducal?  Military? Cultural? Economic?

Take your pick,
she sighed, moodily. 
But those aren’t the problems I need help with.  Those are real problems, that can be solved by real people doing real work.  Our problem has big boobs and the meanest perspective on human mating I’ve ever seen.

Ishi.

Yes Ishi.  Or Lady Pleasure, as she’s calling herself.  Which is the tackiest pseudonym I’ve ever heard.  You’re certain she’s a goddess?

I’ve recently gotten confirmation.  That’s her.

First, I want to know how you know that. The way she said it told me that there was no room for dissembling . . . and the price of dishonesty would be high.

Pen, I have to be honest – there are some things I can’t be transparent about.  For your safety, among others.  All I can say is that yes, I have had divine encounters in the past that have aided our various causes.  Some of these bore amazing fruit.  Some produced . . . well, ‘Lady Allure’.  Believe it or not, it’s not my fault.

You’re consorting with gods, and it’s not your fault . . . you think?  Minalan, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to mix magic and religion?
she demanded
.  Shall I list all the horrible, horrible ways it can go wrong from history?  Shall we start with the collapse of the Magocracy, or shall we confine our discussion to early Perwyni history?

Pentandra, I told you it wasn’t my fault!  A lot has happened, since you went to Alshar, and I’m doing my best to manage it without complicating your life.  That doesn’t mean I’m trying to keep secrets, it’s just a bit . . . awkward, at the moment,
I finished, lamely.

It had to be Ishi.  Very well, then, since you unleashed this beast on me, you can help me contain it.  Duke Anguin is holding a masque in a few weeks, and half of Lady Pleasure’s enchanted minions will be slobbering around the palace.  I know you aren’t supposed to be away from your estates, but I think you should take the chance to slip away and come see what I’ve been dealing with.

Is it really that bad?
I asked, fearful of her response.

Of course it’s that bad!  She’s got every woman in town tartted up and every man following them!  The cosmetics makers and the dressmakers are among our most prosperous businesses, now!  The inns and taverns have enjoyed an explosion of business, because of all the courting, and . . . and . . ..

It doesn’t sound like much of a problem,
Penny, I said, gently.

That’s because you aren’t
here, she complained
.  If you come and see it, you’ll see what I mean.  How can the Duke make policy when a flick of a skirt will change it?  How can a woman keep her husband happy at home when every maiden inside the walls believes herself to be breathtakingly beautiful?  Things are under strain, Min, in ways I never thought I’d see, because of that selfish bitch!

All right, all right, I’ll come!
I agreed, finally. 
But you realize, after my last encounter I’m not particularly eager to face her?

I can see why, Min,
she said, in all seriousness.  She didn’t even joke about it.  That’s when I knew how bad it was.  The day Penny misses a chance for a dirty joke is a bad day
.  She’s utterly intimidating, to man or woman.  That’s why I need you here.

What about Arborn?

Keep him out of this!
she said, almost shrilly, in my mind. 
I have him doing . . . other things, things better suited to his talents.  Things that will keep him out of that bitch’s claws.  Cleaning up the underworld here, for one thing.  I may have turned him into a murderous assassin, she said, more to herself than me, but I’ve kept him away from her and her nasty little—

What does Duke Anguin think about all of this?
I asked, cautiously.

Anguin?  He thinks it’s great, of course!  Within months of his return to the summer capital, everyone is getting laid and making money.  As far as what the people think, they see him as a savior.  And now whatever it is she’s done has spread to him . . . he’s got mistresses falling all over the place.  Which is all very well and good for the lad’s disposition – don’t get me wrong – but in a generation that’s going to play havoc with the succession!  That’s part of the problem – everything Ishi is doing seems perfectly reasonable and rational, on the face of it, but it’s starting to have dramatic consequences that those fools at court can’t see!  I need your perspective, Min, and whatever leverage you can bring to bear on her.

I’ve got to go to the Chepstan Fair next week, I informed her, and thanks to Arathanial’s little war, I’m obligated to go.  But I can attend this masque, in honor of my good friend, Duke Anguin.  I’ll risk my own duke’s wrath, for that.  If he’s even paying attention to me,
I added, a little more gloomily than I realized.

You just need to get out in the world for a night or two,
she promised. 
Bring Alya, make up a costume, bring a few gifts, be your charming self . . . and get this damned love goddess out of my hair for me so I can
do my godsdamned job!

I will, I will, I soothed.  I promise.  I’m not sure how, yet, but I’ll at least study the situation. 

Whatever you can do, Min.

That night, just before I retired, I got another call mind to mind, this time from Dranus.

Baron, I believe you need to cut your inspection tour short and return to Sevendor,
my Court Wizard advised in his calm, measured tones. 
Two reasons: firstly, Sirs Tyndal and Rondal have returned from their errand in the west, and would have words with you, as has Master Lorcus.  And news has arrived by messenger from the Temple of Trygg in the westlands.  They report an attack, my lord, and smoke on the horizon.

My heart sank.   It looked I was going to war, after all.

Which of the new domains got attacked?
I asked, sternly.

Actually, Excellency, none of the new clients were the target of the raid.  Your existing estate of Amel Wood was.  The village was sacked and burned.  Dozens were killed. A few survivors made it to the Abbey and found sanctuary.  The raiders effectively wiped the settlement out.