wreck of heaven

by Holly Lisle

  Pete stopped in his tracks. "You heard what?"

  Eric frowned. "That you got lucky. That after you and I finished dinner, you went over to Lauren's house and that your car was still there this morning. And when I called over to your place this morning, you didn't answer—which led me to believe what I'd heard."

  "I hate small towns," Pete muttered.

  Eric spread his arms, shrugged, and smiled.

  Pete handed him the note Lauren had left. "I'm watching her house for her for a few days," he said. "Her car isn't in the carport. Hasn't been in the carport. But the damned neighbors would assume the worst."

  Eric was staring at the note like someone had just dropped a water moccasin in his lap and the snake was eyeing his crotch. "Mayhem saw your car. Was on the way home from tomcatting around in the wee smalls and thought it was funny enough to wake me up for."

  "Mayhem's an asshole."

  "No argument there." Eric stood up. "She left? She just got up and left, and told us to take it to Vass if we need a gateweaver? Sweet jumping Jesus."

  "I suppose she figured things had calmed down a bit. She doesn't sound like she took off for fun."

  Eric studied him with steady eyes gone cold. "And do I care about that? Not two weeks ago this world was yea far from ending"—he held up thumb and forefinger, so close Pete barely saw light between them—"and this week she takes a vacation and doesn't even leave an emergency number. What if the Vass Sentinels need their gateweaver and we have an emergency? We show a massive increase in gate activity areawide over the last three days. It feels like old god movement. I have June Bug doing a pattern-and-time grid, and while I have to admit that this might be something benign, it doesn't seem likely."

  Pete sighed.

  "All our gates are in good shape right now, but if we get something moving through that crashes them again, we're going to be sitting here with our thumbs up our asses if we don't have a gateweaver to get us back into it again. What the hell was she thinking?"

  "I don't know. I'll tell her you're pissed off if she calls, if you want me to."

  "Do better than that. Tell her to get her ass back here. Fast. Before we find ourselves sitting helpless in the middle of a shitstorm."

  "I can try to find her if you'd like."

  Eric hooked his thumbs into his pockets and glowered at nothing.

  "Or not."

  Eric blew out a breath in a remarkably horselike start. "You fishing for a trip up to Charlotte?"

  Pete laughed. "Yep." Then he shrugged. "I figure I'm the most expendable person we have."

  "Bullshit. Calm under fire is never expendable. But you do have some experience finding people who don't want to be found, don't you?"

  "Some."

  Eric thought about it for a moment. Then he said, "People need their families, and as much as Lauren doesn't sound like she gives a good goddamn for her in-laws, I imagine Jake needs to get to know the only relatives he has. So…find her. Make sure you have a way to get in touch with her. But we won't let her know you were looking for her unless we run into trouble. Sound all right to you?"

  "I can do that," Pete said, and gave Eric an agreeable smile.

  So. He'd go to Charlotte, take care of his own business, which had been on hold during the Sentinels' fight with their traitors and the Carolina flu. And then he'd see what he could do to find Lauren, while keeping whatever she was really up to off the record.

  He had to wonder what she was up to.

  Copper House

  Molly diverted her contingent of guards on the way to the evening meal, taking them to the dining hall by way of Seolar's copper-free safe room; she had them wait only long enough for her to fashion two magical readers. She couldn't be certain they would work the way she hoped because she hadn't had time to make a side trip to the library, and had been under observation by her dressers in her room. She'd check the books she'd hidden in Lauren's room later, though, and if the reader didn't work, she would drag the guards down to the cellar behind her while she had another go at getting the magic right.

  But she liked the way her little readers looked. She had done them as sheets of what felt like plastic. Each sheet could be folded into quarters to fit into a pocket, then unfolded. She'd thrown in a bit of magic that made the fold lines disappear. They certainly looked like an elegant solution; she just hoped they worked.

  She wasn't even late getting to the dining hall. Lauren and Jake sat on one side of the table, and Seolar took the head. Molly saw her place at the foot. In between sat a cluster of five goroths. Lauren and Jake were engaged in conversation with them and didn't see Molly arrive until the goroths stood on their chairs and bowed to her.

  Ugly creatures, all of them. Enormous ears and wrinkled blue-green skin and enormous yellow eyes and that ubiquitous stripe of hair that ran from low, beetle-browed forehead over bald, lumpy skull and down the middle of the spine. Molly gave each of them a polite bow and took her place at the table.

  As the servants began bringing out dishes, she got caught up on what the goroths wanted.

  "As we were telling the Hunter," one of them said, "our Embar got murdered over that which has started—or if not, then over that which led up to what we're in now—and we think we have a place and a part in this. A place and a part, and our chance to fight. Everyone knows the goroths hold claim to a place of honor in the beginning of this—our Embar was the right hand of the Heroes."

  "The Heroes?" Molly asked Lauren.

  "Her sainted parents," the best-dressed of the goroths said, "and yours. Them who saw what needed to be done and died to get it done. We'll do our part."

  "Doggies," Jake said, pointing at them and smiling just a little.

  "You remember Embar?" Lauren asked him, and forced a smile that feigned enthusiasm, but not well. Molly studied her sister. Physically Lauren was fine—Molly knew that. But she had a wounded, haunted look in her eyes that echoed the way Molly felt.

  "Doggie," Jake said.

  "He liked Embar," Lauren explained to the goroths.

  "We are honored, Hunter," they said in a gaggle.

  They really wore very fine clothes, Molly thought. Beautifully woven and embroidered linen shirts with full, blousing sleeves, fine leather breeches, overstitched and decorated cobbled shoes. If they hadn't been such hideous little things, the clothes would even have been magnificent. On them, however…she shook her head. Grotesque little people—she couldn't quite take them seriously.

  "How could you help?" Seolar asked as servants placed covered silver platters in front of everyone. "I'm grateful to you for making the journey, and I understand your desire to help, but what could you do that my guards could not?"

  The leader of the goroths said, "The Heroes didn't ask that of Embar." He pointed at Lauren. "She didn't ask it of Embar. They knew that the goroths are honest, determined, unshakable, and brave. They knew that when others ran, a goroth would stand."

  "But standing and getting killed isn't of much use, either to us or to you," Seolar pointed out. "And you're neither big enough nor strong enough to fight."

  One of the smaller goroths said, "You know history, great Imallin. For all we are small and weak, goroths have ever stood to fight against the dark gods. We stand here now and offer ourselves again."

  Seolar took a bite, chewed it thoughtfully, took a sip of his drink, then leaned back in his chair. "I thank you—formally—as has every Imallin before me. Your offer of sacrifice and service is honorable, and appreciated. But it is unnecessary, and I would be remiss in putting into danger those who are so likely to die wasted."

  "You say no," the head of the goroths said. He turned to his quartet of comrades and said, "He says no."

  "We knew it." The smallest one hung his head. He looked crushed.

  "You can work with me," Lauren said.

  Molly cringed and glanced at Seolar, who looked decidedly unhappy.

  "Lauren…" she said, but Lauren looked her in the eyes and arched an eyebrow in direct c
hallenge.

  "Embar was my friend," she said. "He was my friend when I was a little kid like Jake, and he was my friend when I found my way back to who I was. He died helping me. I can never make that up to him, any more than I can make up the fact that I would never have met you or discovered what I was supposed to be doing with my life if he hadn't helped me. They want to help. And if Seolar won't have them, I will."

  "It is not the nature of the veyâr to risk the lives of the lesser races," Seolar said stiffly.

  Lauren turned to him, and her voice dropped to a growl. "You and your people are on the edge of becoming extinct, if I remember correctly. You're just managing to hang on to a few little corners of what used to be your world. Maybe you ought to start accepting help when it's offered." She rose, clearly angry, and picked up Jake. "I'll take the rest of my meal in my suite," she told one of the servants, who bowed, nodded, and gave Seolar a frantic, panicked look behind Lauren's back.

  All five goroths rose, dropped to the floor from their chairs with little thuds, and said, "We accompany you, Mistress Hunter."

  "Call me Lauren," she said. "And he's Jake." She turned back to the servant. "Bring the rest of their food, too."

  And then she, the guards who were assigned to keep her safe, and the goroths were all gone, and Molly and Seolar were left facing each other from opposite ends of the long table.

  "They're worthless." Seolar was looking out the door after the retreating guests and Lauren. "They're stupid and weak and cowardly. If one of them helped her once, it was only because he got something out of the deal for himself; and if he died, it was because he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and not from any bent toward heroism on his part." Seolar turned back to face Molly, and she was startled by the expression of disgust on his face. "They eat food and use up firewood and arable land and other resources and they give back nothing. They breed and spread disease."

  Molly said, "But they came here offering to help."

  "Don't have anything to do with them, love. You'll bring shame to yourself; your sister is going to be marked by her association with such creatures. Not even old gods can be immune to the taint of those nasty subcreatures."

  Molly ate quietly and watched Seolar. She'd never in the time that she'd known him seen this facet of his personality, this prejudice. She wondered if all the veyâr shared it, or if this was something that belonged to him alone—and why his distaste for the goroths was so vehement and seemingly irrational.

  They seemed harmless. In fact, in a funny way, they sort of reminded her of the veyâr. Veyâr hit by the ugly stick, but veyâr nonetheless—the odd skin coloring, the large, gem-like, solid-colored eyes, the angles of bone and shapes of hands and fingers and ears and faces. If everything about them was an exaggeration, it had nonetheless come from the same template.

  Reminded her a bit of wolves and Chihuahuas—the one magnificent, the other something that ought to be stepped on at one's earliest convenience—but both sprang from the same lines.

  She decided, however, not to offer this observation to Seolar. He was in a foul mood—something she had never seen before—and some stroke of common sense suggested to her that he would not welcome any comments in favor of goroths.

  She ate, and watched him. "Birra and I went to the library today," she said.

  He shook off the look of irritation on his face and smiled. "Really? I'd be happy if you could find something to entertain you in your rest."

  "I didn't have him looking for entertainment," she said. "I was hoping to find out something about the previous Vodian, and about the rrôn. I wanted to see what the others like me had to go through."

  "And you looked for the rrôn because…?"

  "They're hunting me," she said, withholding the true cause of her interest. "I figure I need to know my enemy."

  Seolar shoved his plate away from him, even though he'd eaten less than half of what had been served. "Really," he said. "I would think you knew as much as you needed to in realizing that they were trying to kill you. And in being able to hear their thoughts."

  Molly said, "Could the other Vodian hear the thoughts of the rrôn? Maybe of the other dark gods? Old gods? If they could, why? If they couldn't, then why can I?" She rested her elbows on the table and said, "I'm not the same as I was, Seo. I feel…little blank spots in me. I can't think of a better way to describe it, but I have to understand it. I have to know who I am; I have to know what I have become." She looked down at her tall, slender body, at her inhumanly long-fingered hands, and spread her arms wide. "I'm not the person I was. Not by a long shot. So who the hell am I?"

  He looked a little pale as he asked her, "So what did you discover?"

  "Not a damned thing. Birra helped me find books, but he doesn't enjoy reading them. And I can't. I thought perhaps you could read them to me tonight."

  She watched his face and found on it the same relief, the same intent to deceive, that she'd seen with Birra. "Of course," he said. "I'm afraid the books are likely to be dull reading, but we'll go through as much as you'd like. Anything I can do to help you understand the…rrôn…and your role as a Vodi." His smile got a bit broader, and he pulled his plate back in front of himself and dug in.

  Molly studied him with interest. She wasn't dependent on him to read to her, but she was going to be very interested to see what he was willing to let her know as opposed to what she could find out on her own. And a dark little thrill started in her—a curiosity about how bound he was to his determination to lie, mixed with a feral hunger unlike anything she'd ever experienced before.

  Watching Seolar, she had a premonition that the evening was going to be interesting for both of them.

  CHAPTER 6

  Copper House

  LAUREN AND JAKE WATCHED, amazed, as the goroths swarmed through the suite.

  "Wall passageway here," one shouted.

  "She'll know about that," another one said.

  "Did you know about that?" the best-dressed of the goroths asked.

  "No."

  "Peephole here."

  "Decent hiding space between the walls back here—be sure to check it every time we come in."

  Lauren held Jake closer and asked the one goroth who wasn't zipping around like a caffeinated hummingbird, "What are they doing?"

  "Checking your rooms for weaknesses and escape routes. You haven't already done this?"

  "Well—I looked over the rooms," Lauren said. "But I didn't find anything out of the ordinary about them."

  The other goroths were coming back to their starting point now. "All done," one said. "Nothing else."

  The leader said, "That will be enough, then. Be inconspicuous."

  Lauren had seen a fair amount of magic by this time. The thing that unnerved her was knowing the goroths weren't using any magic. While she was watching them, they found spots around the room and faded out of sight into them, until after just a moment only she and Jake and the leader appeared to be left.

  "Hiding," Jake said. "Can I find the doggies?"

  "Not right now, monkey-boy," Lauren said. She dropped to a crouch so that she and the leader were nearly eye to eye, and asked, "Why did they do that?"

  "Mistress Hunter, we are not strong, and we are not fast, and we are not great warriors. But we are good at hiding, and listening, and making sure that nothing sneaks by us without our noticing it. We will make sure that within your rooms, nothing comes or goes without your knowledge. We will keep you and your little one safe to the best of our ability." He bowed to her—a deep bow, full of flourishes and passion—and said, "We ask only to serve against the great evil that would destroy us and everything we hold dear. You have allowed us to serve you, when in serving you we serve the greater cause; and you have given the goroths a place of honor among all the peoples. By your grace, we can erase the shame of being goroth. We are grateful; we will serve you in life and in death."

  Lauren reached out a hand to the goroth. "Embar was my friend," she said. "I don
't expect you to be servants, or invisible bodyguards, or whatever you seem to think you have to do. You can just be my friends." She shook her head. "I failed Embar. I didn't manage to protect him from some very bad men, and he died as a result." She gave the little goroth a crooked smile. "I don't want you to follow in his footsteps. If I'm lucky, you and the other fellows will still be around to keep Jake company when he's my age."

  Tears slipped down the goroth's wrinkled cheeks, and he whispered, "You honor us. Ah, Hunter, what an honor you do us. To be offered the friendship of one of the old gods…"

  Lauren heard snuffles from four hiding places. She wanted to tell them it was no big deal, but who was she to say that? She'd seen the way Seolar treated them. To them, being anyone's friend might be a very big deal indeed, and belittling that made no sense. Instead, she decided that she might as well be gracious.