Chapter 16
At the Bakery
“Get out of my kitchen!” Demara shouted at Greywind. “I thought I told you never to come back here!” Greywind cringed.
The kitchen was hot. Not just from its southerly location, but because the ovens were all fired and nearly ready for baking. Demara wore a flour dusted tunic and apron, her brown hair pulled into a tight bun with pins shaped like sheaves of wheat, the symbol of her goddess, Grania. A kerchief further kept stray hairs from distracting her from her work. She pounded dough on a work surface and glared meaningfully at Greywind.
“It's good to see you too”, said Greywind when she had finished. He perched on the corner of a table and watched her sling and weave dough into a complicated loaf. He hated to interrupt her while she was working. But he also knew she was probably less likely to beat him senseless when up to her elbows in dough. “You know, there are easier ways if you just want a muffin.” He fished out a small loaf from his shirt and began nibbling on it.”
She squinted her eyes at him. “Filched from the market? I'll tell Amaranth you owe her for that.” Greywind looked put out. Demara slapped the loafs onto a wide flat board, flung open the door to a roaring oven, shoved the board in, letting the loaves slide onto the heated stone, yanked the board out, then slammed the door closed again. “It’s a devotion”, she growled at him. “The work is an offering to my goddess. Assuming, of course, you haven't gone and offed her. Is that what you've come here to tell me? She's next on your hit list?”
Greywind shook his head quickly. “Oh, no. Not at all. I'd never even think of it.”
“Never think of telling me? Because I know your agenda is to get rid of them all.” She slung some of her tools into various washbasins.
“Well, you see, that's the complicated thing about agendas”, said Greywind, having another nibble from his muffin. “It's hard to get everyone to agree on one.”
“Which is why I'm here, and not there, and why I said I never wanted to see any of you lot again”, said Demara, pointedly.
Greywind shrugged. Her hands were free now. He had to hook her before she threw him out. “I really don't have much of an agenda at all.” He gestured theatrically, “I just want everyone to get along. It makes life so much easier.”
“So you can just keep filching what you fancy and taking responsibility for nothing.”
“Precisely!” said Greywind triumphantly. “But everyone's so serious these days. What with this condensed sleep, sobriety pills, and what-not there's hardly any vices left to enjoy at all.” He took another bite.
“That doesn't explain why you're here bothering me”, she said looking, with intent, at the shelves he was sitting in front of.
“I'm getting to that, I'm getting to that”, he said, standing up so she could reach past. It was a good sign if she was diving into her next 'devotion' rather than applying her foot to his backside. “It seems we're set to enter another brouhaha over reincarnation, divine servitude, or eternal life.”
“Working yourselves up to killing a few more gods?” she asked, shaking her head and pulling out some more ingredients.
“I think everyone's gone a bit far”, said Greywind. “Dev wanting to go back to the 'old ways', Moss wanting to make heaven on earth and just about everyone wanting to kill all the gods.”
“Sounds like nothing has changed”, quipped Demara. “So Devonshire sent you here to convince me, a conservative, to back her pushing some sort of metaphysical reset button.”
“Well... She didn't... Not exactly... I would never presume...” sputtered Greywind. “OK, Yes. Yes she did.”
Demara put her hands on her hips. “You know the answer is 'no', which is why you're blathering on about other stuff.”
Greywind looked put-out. When did Demara get as good as Elves at reading people? “Dev's heart is in the right place. But she hasn't got a killer argument, so she's not going to win that way.”
“So you're trying to convince me to go the other way to make her give up quickly?” asked Demara.
“No, no. I'm just, you know, wondering if we need to actually kill all those gods at all.” Demara raised her eyebrow. “Let's say we do things Moss's way, cure old age through magic, make heaven on earth, let people use the mana they can generate rather than letting some deity use it for them. It's not like we need the gods out of the way to do that.” Demara raised her other eyebrow. “Even better, we could do it all in collaboration with the gods. Get them to come forward. Embrace the agenda. Join us instead of fighting us. They can be seen as the primary agents for ringing in heaven on earth, et cetera.” He smiled winningly.
“I'm still not seeing where I come into this demented scheme”, said Demara.
“Well, such an agreement would have to be brokered. And, well, the gods aren't exactly in a talkative mood with most of us right now”, Greywind shrugged. “So it struck me that you are in the position of the perfect negotiator.”
Demara rolled her eyes. “Don't get me wrong”, she said, holding up her hands. “I'm a big fan of hubris. Where would all our great tragedies be without it? But don't you think this is going a bit far?”
“Well, as you keep repeating, we've already killed a few. The rest have disengaged.” He paused. “Given time, and if we ever come to an agreement, we can probably continue to pick them off as they get in the way. Now, we probably couldn't stand up to a unified onslaught of all the remaining gods working together against us.” He smiled at her. “But what do you think the chances of that are?”
Demara looked at him sourly. “Given they represent the best and worst of humanity, I wouldn't even give odds on whose dysfunctionality would triumph. Why me though? Surely you perceive yourself to be in a position of strength. Why not just strong arm them into it?”
“You know the gods better than any of us”, said Greywind. “You're on a first name basis with a number of them. Facilitated a few... engagements... in the past. You could get your foot in the door. Feed them a few of your famous crescent rolls. Get them in a listening mood.” She continued to look highly skeptical. “Besides, this is really just my own little agenda. I couldn't strong arm a fairy myself.”
“So let me get this right”, said Demara, emphasizing her points with a wooden spoon. “Dev sent you here to try to talk me into her agenda, so I could talk the others out of their agenda. But you're ignoring all of that because you've got a completely different agenda that you want me to spearhead all by myself.”
“Yes”, said Greywind, popping the last of the muffin in his mouth. “In a nutshell.”
Demara shook her head. “It's insane. It's all insane.”
“Well, at least you would get to pick your own form of insanity”, countered Greywind.
“All I ever wanted to be was a simple priestess”, she said wistfully.
“I just wanted to be a simple miscreant”, said Greywind. “Look at me now! Trying to save the world. My mother would weep.”
“Damn Scioni for starting all of this”, swore Demara.
“He's beyond either damnation or salvation now”, said Greywind somberly. “No magic in the multiverse can get him back.”
“More's the pity”, said Demara. “I'd be first in line to slap him for this.”
“Now that's the attitude I'd expect from the only person to talk back to a Grey Elf!” said Greywind.
Demara smiled wryly. “Not like there wasn't payback.”
“But it didn't stop you talking back to all and sundry, eh?”
“No it didn't” agreed Demara. “No, it didn't.”
“So you'll do it?” Greywind asked tentatively.
“Leave it with me”, said Demara, staring out over the kitchen.
Greywind leaned against the counter for a bit. “Sorry, one gets used to Elfish with eighteen different conjugations. Was that 'leave it with me' as in 'shut up and get out of my kitchen' or 'I'm on it' or...?”
Demara looked up at him sardonically, “That was 'leave it with me' as in '
leave it with me'. Go about your business. I'll think about it. I may do something. I may do nothing. Or I may pass it on to someone else who I think can do something. After all, if I'm the only one who can implement your agenda then it's all up to me anyway.”
“Touché”, said Greywind. He bent low, kissed her hand, palmed a crescent roll, and swept from the room.
Red Queen Page 16