Lucian: Dark God's Homecoming (9 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Good dentistry. Now that is a thing we gods have never taken for granted. Certainly we can direct a sufficient amount of the Power into any trouble spots that might occur with regard to our teeth and gums, and over time all will heal. Unfortunately, such a process tends to be long, unpleasant, and generally annoying. Therefore one thing I had a feeling I was going to miss, if I no longer dwelled among the human worlds, was good dentistry. It felt like at least two of my teeth had been loosened, between going a handful of rounds with Baranak and then taking the surprise shot from Turmborne. Idly I wondered if our wrestler-god, Fuaren, had survived. If he had, it seemed inevitable my chin would encounter his fist soon enough, too.

Coming back to my senses, I looked around and tried to take in the situation.

I sat, my back to a tree, within a small clearing in a dense forest. Judging by the substantial amount of light reaching through the thick, overhanging branches, it had to be near midday. To my right, beyond a stack of barrels and crates, the three humans were imprisoned within what looked to be a hastily constructed cage made of stout limbs bound by rope. Across from me sat Turmborne.

Turmborne, our lumberjack god. Our outdoorsman. Green of eye, red of hair, broad of jaw. He of the flannel and the beard and the broad axe. The only one of us all that might survive an extended brawl with Baranak--if he had ever shown any interest in such a thing. He had not, of course. During my time in the City, before the exile, I had scarcely seen him about. He had not even taken part in the battle in the City Square, so far as I knew. He lived for his woodlands and his hunt and his sport. I probably knew less of him than of any of the others, save perhaps Vodina--and, prior to my revolt, I had made it my business to know everything that could be known about all of them. My ignorance in regard to him irked me, and his assault on me irked me further. Plus, I remembered then, he had insulted my intelligence.

Turmborne, I felt strongly, had an ass-whipping coming.

He just sat there, watching me.

I started to rise.

“No, no,” he said then, his voice deep and resonant. He motioned me back down. “Let us converse, you and I, Lucian,” he continued. “The day is young yet. We have nothing but time.”

“Actually, I do not,” I said. “In fact, you are keeping me from important business—“

“You are being inconvenienced, then?” he boomed. “How unfortunate.” His glare beat at me like a physical blow, and I settled back to the ground once more. “But I’m afraid you are not the only one being inconvenienced, these days. I have been extremely inconvenienced recently, in fact.” His eyes narrowed, though he continued to glare at me. “Murder can do that. Mass murder, especially.”

“It was not me,” I said, growing tired of being seen as public enemy number one. “I was in exile. I was on the human worlds.” I sighed tiredly, shaking my head. “What is so hard for everyone to grasp about that?”

A small smile played about that thin-lipped mouth. He nodded.

“I anticipated you would have a sparkling alibi,” he said with a chuckle. “And it might even be true—though it would go against your nature.”

“What do you know of my nature?” I demanded, suddenly fed up with all the prejudice I felt from my fellow gods. Few of them were squeaky clean—how dare they judge me so? “You don’t know me! I don’t even know you.”

“I know you better than you might think,” he said.

I gritted my teeth, angry that this big oaf already had gotten the better of me.

“What do you know, then?”

He crossed his thick arms and regarded me, his head tilted slightly to one side. I was reminded of a dog I had owned once, on Mysentia, that had looked at me that way now and then—usually when it felt that dinner was late, or that I had not fed it enough. I tried to shove that image out of my head.

“I know this,” he said. “I know that the Power can be stored up. That objects can be—what was the word he used?—imbued with quantities of it.” Turmborne’s eyes narrowed as he peered at me. “I also know that
you
can do this.”

I shrugged. “And?”

“And it strikes me that this would be useful… if the Fountain were to stop flowing.” He smiled a thin smile. “In fact, if that happened, anybody storing up a reserve of the Power would enjoy a big advantage over all the others.” He leaned closer towards me, jabbing a meaty finger into my chest. “And it did.”

I will admit I had not yet considered this angle. But it begged another question, one I needed answered.

“The gods who were killed—“

“Murdered!” he growled.

“Murdered, fine. Were they all in the City when they died?”

He looked upon me with utter contempt.

“As if you don’t know this.”

“Humor me.”

He nodded, his face registering disgust.

“Some were in the City. Many were not. Many were in their private domains, and some were among the humans.”

Not what I had wanted to hear. This made his case stronger, with regard to the stored energies, though I was not certain he realized it yet. The killer had to have been able to travel among the planes without the Fountain to provide power. This also meant the perpetrator must have retained his or her abilities even as the victims had been rendered powerless. I winced. It must have been a slaughter.

This suggested another possibility, however. “Has anyone considered yet that it might not have been one of us?” I asked. “That it might have been someone not dependent upon the Fountain at all? Are we so mutually suspicious—or at least so suspicious of me—that such a possibility never even crossed anyone’s mind?”

He stared at me for a moment, then leaned back, stroking his beard.

“Excellent,” he laughed. “I knew the master of lies wouldn’t let me down.” Then, after a few seconds, “Fine. I will humor you. I suppose you have someone in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I growled, “though hardly anyone has been willing to listen to me about it.”

I described the Dark Man with whom I’d had a running battle on the Road to the City, as well as the two we had seen in the bog near Malachek’s place.

“The humans saw them, too,” I noted.

Turmborne glanced over at them curiously, pursed his lips, and looked back at me.

“That proves nothing,” he said. “I have seen many strange things on the Road. Fought with plenty of them, too. Nothing like that has ever killed a god before. Much less six dozen of them.”

“It proves there are other, powerful players about,” I said. “It proves that way too many of us are entirely too eager to charge me with everything from murder to bad fashion sense, when there are other suspects to consider.”

Turmborne laughed at that, his laughter a deep, rumbling thing that seemed to begin somewhere near his toes before spilling over his lips. I would have sworn the ground vibrated from it.

“I have to admit you’re right about that,” he said finally. “Not the fashion sense—though I’m hardly the best one to judge—but about your culpability for… everything… in the eyes of the others. It’s true. But it’s true for a reason.

“Let me be honest with you, Lucian,” he said then, hunkering forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was low but deep and full. “I did not know many of the dead gods well, if at all. I have never spent much time in the City. I had no interest in their perpetual parties and gatherings and ceremonies and so forth. I love my woods, and here I dwell. Sure, in principal, I’m outraged about it all. And I’ll admit that there’s a selfish motive for me, too—I’m pretty tough, but, given my preferences, I’d rather not have to worry about becoming a victim of some kind of clever sneak attack, myself, one day.” His eyes narrowed. “And that’s what it would have to be, you know. A sneak attack. A good one.

“All of that aside, though,” he continued, “the main thing, as I told you before, is inconvenience. The murders have Baranak and his bunch all stirred up, and he has all but declared martial law, sealing off the City. I wouldn’t go there right now if I could. I gather from some of the others it’s not what you would call a very hospitable place at the moment.

“And this I blame on you,” he concluded. “I really, really do not like my life to be complicated. And you’ve gone and complicated it.”

“Well,” I said. “Your honesty is… refreshing, if nothing else.”

He snorted.

“And now, how about some from you?” He cocked his head in that odd way again. “You did it, didn’t you? Just admit it. You killed them.”

“No.”

He sighed—a big, powerful sound that went on a surprisingly long time—and leaned back, resting against a particularly large tree trunk. He sat that way for several minutes, seemingly deep in thought. I let him be.

What little of the sun that could be seen in this forest dropped lower, off to my right. The temperature cooled. The insect sounds grew louder.

Finally Turmborne climbed to his feet and walked over to the cage holding the humans. He squinted at them, then looked back at me.

“What’s this bunch all about?” he asked. “Why are you dragging them along on your prison break?” He grinned. “Decoys? Strange medical experiments?” He cocked an eye at Evelyn. “Don’t tell me you like the girl.”

The humans glared at him but, to their credit, said nothing. I knew they had to be as angry and frustrated as ever. They did not much care for me, and certainly did not trust me—yet every other god they had encountered thus far, with the exception of Malachek, seemed intent on doing them harm, or at least handing them over to Baranak. They had no better option than to stick with me, and they knew it, and they were not happy about it. For my part, I was still not sure why I had not simply abandoned them already. I assumed that if the answer ever presented itself, I would be sufficiently amazed, because it made little sense to me at the moment. Beyond that, I decided to let it alone.

“Baranak had them,” I said. “That seemed reason enough to free them.” Hell, it sounded as good as anything else I might have said. Maybe it would shut him up about them.

“Now that I can relate to,” Turmborne said, laughing. “I’ve little enough love for the Golden God. But he does seem to be calling the shots, for now. If you wanted him out of the way, your efforts backfired. All your killing spree has done is to put him more securely in power.”

“I would think that would serve as further evidence of my innocence,” I replied. “Why would I do anything to boost his popularity? The others must be living in fear, right now,” I said. “Of course they would turn to the strongman, and give him all the power and influence he claims he needs, to keep them and the City safe.”

Turmborne strode about the clearing, hands like ham hocks clasped behind his back. Pausing, he scratched at his thick, red beard and eyed me curiously.

“Yeah, I’ll admit that part bothers me. We’ve never had a single supreme leader in control in the City… And I know you wouldn’t want to see anyone with that much power—other than yourself.”

I looked him straight in the eye, unblinking.

“You do realize there is at least as much evidence pointing to him as to me, don’t you?”

Turmborne said nothing, merely resumed pacing.

I kept quiet for a while, hoping I had sowed enough seeds of doubt at least to buy myself a little more time. I looked over at the humans from time to time; they sat in the cage, sullen but silent. Idly I wondered if Kim still thought this was all happening only in his mind.

Finally Turmborne stopped his pacing directly before me.

“I knew it was a mistake to talk this over with you. I should have done what I planned to do from the start—grab you and turn you over to Baranak and the others that minute.”