The Younger Gods

by David Eddings

  1

  Sorgan Hook-Beak of the Land of Maag was sleeping in his imitation fort that night. He’d have much preferred sleeping on the Ascension out in the harbor, but it was fairly essential for him to keep up the pretense of the mock invasion of the bug-people, and sleeping on board a ship out in the harbor might just make Lady Aracia more than a little suspicious. Now that she’d come to her senses and ordered all of her fat, lazy priests to help build the defensive walls around her temple, staying on the good side of her was fairly important.

  It was just after midnight, as closely as Sorgan could determine, when cousin Torl came into Sorgan’s room, accompanied by Lady Zelana’s Dreamer, Eleria.

  “What are you two doing running around at night like this?” Sorgan demanded.

  “Lady Zelana told me to bring the little girl here so that she can tell you something that might be fairly important, cousin,” Torl replied.

  “What is it now?” Sorgan grumbled.

  Eleria gave him a little smirk. “The Beloved thought that you ought to know that the lady who hired you isn’t around anymore.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “That’s a little hard to say, Captain Hook-Big,” Eleria replied. “She broke one of the rules, and she went poof.”

  “Poof?”

  “That’s about as close as I can come to describing what happened. She came into Lillabeth’s room and commanded her to ‘be-no-more,’ but now she’s the one who no longer exists.”

  “Who did it? I mean, who ordered her to stop being alive?”

  “She did—all by herself. I think it’s built into the gods. They’re not allowed to kill things, so when one of them tries to do that, it comes back and hits them right in the face. Didn’t the Beloved explain that to you when you first came here to work for her?”

  Sorgan blinked as a horrid possibility crashed in on him. “My gold!” he exclaimed. “Did that all go ‘poof’ when she did?”

  “I sort of doubt that, Hook-Big,” Eleria replied. “The temple’s still there, so the gold probably is as well. You could go look, I suppose, but we’ve got something else to worry about now.”

  “What’s happening?” Sorgan demanded.

  “There are a lot of people in the temple who just lost their god. I don’t think it’s going to be much longer before a war breaks out. Now that Aracia isn’t around to tell them to behave, things are probably going to get a little messy in the temple. I think you’d better send somebody down there to keep an eye on things.”

  “And to find the storeroom where Aracia kept all her gold,” Sorgan muttered to himself. That could wait, though. He turned to look at cousin Torl. “Did that young Trogite Keselo leave the harbor yet?” he asked.

  “I doubt it,” Torl replied. “It was almost dark when he went out to the Ascension. He’ll probably go north again when daylight comes along.”

  “Good,” Sorgan said with a certain relief. “Go on out to the Ascension and tell Keselo what just happened here. We definitely want Narasan to know about it, so as soon as Keselo reaches Long-Pass, he’d better climb up on his horse and go up the pass to whatever fort Narasan’s holed up in and tell him that Lady Zelana’s sister isn’t around anymore.”

  “Sound thinking, cousin,” Torl agreed.

  “I’m glad you liked it. Then I want you to nose around in the temple and see what’s going on there—and see if you can locate the strong-room where Aracia kept all of her gold. She doesn’t need it anymore, but we do.”

  “I’ll see what I can find, cousin,” Torl replied. Then he took Eleria by the hand, and the two of them went back toward the main temple.

  Sorgan gave some thought to Eleria’s warning. The priests of the temple didn’t really pose much of a threat, but there was no point in taking any chances. He went to the chamber where Ox and Ham-Hand slept and woke them up.

  “What’s afoot, Cap’n?” Ox asked.

  “We just got a nasty surprise,” Sorgan told him. “It seems that Lady Aracia lost her grip on things again—probably because that little priestess—who’s really a bug—turned that smell loose on her the way she did before, and Lady Aracia went crazy. She rushed into the room where her Dreamer lived and ordered her to stop living. I guess that’s against all the rules, so Aracia’s not around anymore.”

  “She just fell over dead?” Ham-Hand asked.

  “From what Eleria said—and she was there—there wasn’t enough of Aracia left to fall over. Eleria used the word ‘poof’ to describe what happened. I guess Aracia’s body just faded away, and it was replaced by little speckles of light. Then the light went out, and there wasn’t anything called Aracia anymore. That probably sent all those fat, lazy priests right straight up the wall. When they come down, they’ll start scheming against each other, and the ‘holy temple’ is very likely to be ankle-deep in blood.”

  “What a shame,” Ox said.

  “Isn’t it, though?” Sorgan agreed. “We don’t want them out here, though, so take some sizeable parties of men along the corridors that lead to the main temple and block them off.”

  “We’ve already been paid, Cap’n,” Ham-Hand said. “Why don’t we just take that money and run?”

  “Because there’s probably a lot more money piled up somewhere in the main temple. I’m not about to just walk away and leave it behind. My cousin Torl’s in the main temple right now to see what’s really happening there, and in his spare time, he’s checking every room in that part of the temple for gold. Once he finds it, we’re all going to become very, very rich.”

  Torl came back out to the fort a couple days later, and he had a peculiar expression on his face when he entered Sorgan’s chamber.

  “Are we having a problem, cousin?” Sorgan asked him.

  “You wouldn’t believe what’s going on in that main temple, cousin,” Torl replied. “Those people have all gone crazy.”

  “Exactly what do you mean by ‘crazy,’ cousin?” Sorgan asked.

  “Right at first they were falling back on simple murders—all the usual ones like knife in the back, cutting throats, and bashing out brains with clubs or big rocks. They’ve been killing each other by the dozens. I’d say give it another day or so and there’ll be open war over there. There’s already a lot of blood splashed on the walls, but there’ll probably be an ocean of blood when they move on to a full-scale war.”

  “Were you able to locate Aracia’s gold-room?”

  “Not yet. I came back out here to warn you that things are very dangerous in that part of the temple.”

  “I appreciate that, Torl. I’ve already got men blocking off every corridor that leads to the main temple.”

  “Good thinking, Sorgan. Have you heard anything from Veltan yet?”

  “Not a word. I’d say that he’s got a family emergency on his hands right now. His older sister just vanished—or just stopped being anyplace anymore, and that might bring down a whole lot of trouble. Get on back to the main temple, cousin, but watch your back. We really want to find that gold storeroom. We’re nailed down here until we locate it.”

  2

  It was about mid-morning on the following day when the fat priest called Bersla came around the outer wall of the temple to Sorgan’s makeshift fort. Sorgan was just a bit surprised by the fact that Bersla was traveling alone. If the oarsman Platch had been right, Bersla never went anywhere all by himself.

  “Well, now,” Sorgan called from the outer wall of his makeshift fort, “if it isn’t Holy Takal Bersla. Does Lady Aracia want to talk with me about something?” He watched the Fat Man closely, and, as he’d more or less anticipated, Bersla’s face suddenly went very pale. Then he pulled himself together. “I speak for Holy Aracia in a matter of some urgency, mighty Sorgan. It would appear that the foul servants of That-Called-the-Vlagh have infiltrated the Holy Temple, and even as we speak, they are creeping about with murder only on their minds. Now, I, of course, would be more than willing to face the foul servants of the Vlagh alone, but Holy Ara
cia has commanded me to speak with you.”

  “I’ll be more than willing to listen, Takal Bersla,” Sorgan declared. “Let’s keep this sort of to ourselves, though. One of my men at the gate will show you the way to my quarters, and I’ll meet you there.”

  Sorgan was rubbing his hands together as he went down the narrow flight of stairs toward the central yard of his fort. If anybody in the whole temple would know exactly where Aracia’s gold was hidden, it would be Fat Bersla.

  He went into the room where he usually slept, and a few minutes later a burly Maag escorted the priest into Sorgan’s room. After the sailor had left, Sorgan squinted at the priest. “I hadn’t heard that the bug-people had managed to get inside the temple, and I’ve got men watching just about every square foot of the place. How did they manage to get past my people?”

  Bersla floundered for a moment, and then he said, “Tunnels, I’ve been told. As I understand it, these creatures can chew their way through solid rock.”

  “Indeed they can, Takal,” Sorgan replied. “During the first war off to the west in Lady Zelana’s Domain, thousands of bug-people came swarming up out of tunnels that’d taken them centuries to chew through solid rock. Tunnels are the most effective way to get under walls and buildings without being seen. Now, then, let’s get something out of the way right now. These sneaking bugs aren’t spiders, are they? If I even mention the word ‘spider,’ I’ll be lucky to have a dozen men left by morning.”

  Bersla looked a bit startled. “I’m sure they aren’t spider-bugs. Spiders have eight legs, don’t they?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told,” Sorgan replied.

  “We’re safe, then. The bugs crawling through the tunnels under the temple have six legs, not eight.”

  “That’s a relief. Now, then, how are we going to go about this? If I put several thousand men in the temple hallways, they should be able to push the bugs off balance.”

  “You are the warrior, mighty Sorgan,” Bersla replied. “I know little or nothing of such things.”

  “All right, then,” Sorgan said. “How much will you pay me to keep you alive?”

  “I know very little about money, brave Sorgan,” Bersla admitted. “I do, however, have access to many blocks of the yellow metal your people call gold.”

  “There’s the answer right there, Takal Bersla,” Sorgan said. “Each evening when you’re still alive, give one of those blocks to my cousin Torl. One is an easy number to remember, so neither one of us will be confused. Let’s start with a couple dozen of my men. If Torl thinks that won’t be enough, I’ll send more to guard you.”

  Bersla heaved a huge sigh of relief, and his hands almost stopped trembling.

  “I’ll send an escort with you back to the main temple, Takal,” Sorgan said. “You won’t have to go back outside the walls now. I’ve got men blocking off the corridors, but they’ll let you pass. After all, you and I are friends now, aren’t we?”

  “Indeed we are, mighty warrior,” Bersla declared. “Indeed we are.”

  Sorgan probably should not have been particularly surprised the next morning when the tiny priestess Alcevan came out to the fort with a request that was almost identical to the one Takal Bersla had made the previous afternoon. At least, unlike Bersla, she didn’t try to foist on Sorgan an absurdity about bug-people creeping through tunnels as Bersla had. “The Church of Divine Aracia is now divided, Captain Hook-Beak,” she declared. “The one who elevated himself to ‘High Priest’ believes that he alone can speak for Holy Aracia, and he has dispatched assassins to murder those of us who know full-well that his self-aggrandizement did not come from Holy Aracia. Since I live only to serve her, Bersla has commanded his henchmen to concentrate on me in advance of all others, for I am the true leader of the clergy in Aracia’s holy temple. I cannot permit him to usurp my position. So I must be protected from Bersla’s villains. I will pay you much to defend me. Name your price, and gladly will I pay.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Sorgan said. “How does one gold block a day sound to you?”

  “Most reasonable, Captain Hook-Beak. Should I send the gold here?”

  “Those corridors aren’t really safe, Priestess,” Sorgan replied. “My cousin Torl will be right there in the temple. Why don’t you just give him one of those gold blocks every morning? Torl loves gold, so he won’t let anything happen to the lady who gives him a gold block every morning at breakfast time.”

  “It shall be as you have requested, mighty Sorgan,” the tiny priestess agreed.

  It was all Sorgan could do to keep from laughing out loud. There were two people in the temple who hated each other with a passion, and now they were both paying Sorgan a block of gold every day to protect them from each other.

  It was about noon two days later when Torl came back out to Sorgan’s imitation fort with four blocks of gold. “I can’t for the life of me find out where the treasure-room is located, cousin,” he declared. “Bersla and Alcevan never leave that throne room but morning and evening, one of them hands me one of these gold blocks.”

  “The pay’s very good, cousin,” Sorgan said. “And the work’s not really very hard.” Then he frowned. “The only drawback is how long it’s likely to take us to empty out the treasure-rooms—assuming, of course, that they’re each filching these blocks from a different room. For all we know, they could both be taking the blocks out of the same room.”

  “If that’s the case, that room will get emptied eventually.”

  “That’s all right with me, Torl,” Sorgan said. “One day with no pay, and we’re out of here.”

  “They probably will kill each other as soon as we’re gone, cousin,” Torl said.

  “And we’ll both be terribly sad when that happens, won’t we?” Sorgan suggested with a wicked grin.

  “I don’t really think that’s going to break my heart, cousin,” Torl replied. “It might bend it just a little, but I’m fairly sure it won’t break.”

  “You do have a fairly strong heart, cousin,” Sorgan agreed.

  Then they both laughed.

  3

  It was later that same day when Veltan came crashing in on his pet thunderbolt. As usual, the loud crash shook Sorgan right down to his toenails. “Where have you been?” he demanded of Lady Zelana’s younger brother.

  “We did have a family emergency, Sorgan,” Veltan replied.

  “I know,” Sorgan said. “What are you doing about it?”

  “We haven’t really decided yet. Is anything unusual going on down here?”

  “I think it’s called ‘church politics,’ Veltan,” Sorgan replied, “which is a polite way of saying ‘open war.’ Takal Bersla and tiny little Alcevan are right on the verge of going all out. So far, all they’ve been doing is sending out murderers to kill off various members of the opposing side. Bersla and Alcevan both know that they’re in mortal danger, so they’ve both hired me to protect them. I’ve got men over in the main church keeping the churchies apart.” Then he grinned. “Actually, this upcoming war has turned into a golden—and I do mean ‘golden’—opportunity for me. A while back Takal Bersla hired me to protect him, and the next morning teenie-weenie Alcevan came by, and she also hired me. Each one of them pays me a gold block every day to keep them alive, so this is turning into a profitable little war for me. They hate each other all the way down to the ground, and I’m fairly sure that there are a couple of other things they’d like for me to do, and they are almost certain to make me even more interesting offers before too many days go by.”

  “You’re not really going to get involved at that level, are you?”

  “Of course not, Veltan. I will take the gold, though. Then I’ll just take the money and run.”

  “That’s terrible!” Veltan exclaimed.

  “I know,” Sorgan admitted. “Fun, though.”

  Torl came out to the fort a few days later to bring the loot to Sorgan. “I think you might want to take a fairly close look at these blocks, cousin,” he said.
“I think I’ve found the gold-block warehouse. If you look at the blocks, you’ll see that each one of them has quite a bit of sand ground in along one side.”

  “Why would anybody do that?” Sorgan demanded.

  “It’s a way to hide the gold, cousin. That coat of sand makes these gold blocks look like ordinary building blocks.”

  “Well, sort of, I suppose. What’s the point of doing that, though?”

  “It’s a way to hide the gold. I have found the place where Aracia kept all her gold.”

  “Well, finally!” Sorgan said. “Where is it?”

  “In her throne room, cousin. Actually, Holy Aracia’s throne room is walled in with solid gold that’s been disguised to make it look like ordinary bricks. I scraped a few places with my knife when nobody was watching, and sure enough, every brick I scraped was actually a gold block.”

  “That throne room is enormous!” Sorgan exclaimed.

  “It is indeed, cousin, and it’s walled in with solid gold. I’d say that one of Aracia’s priests—possibly Takal Bersla—came up with the idea even before Narasan’s Trogite army arrived here last autumn. We’ve spent days and days looking for the gold warehouse, and it’s been right there in front of us every time we went into the throne room. We’re going to need a lot of ships to carry our gold when we leave this place.”

  Sorgan began to tremble violently. “I think I’d better go over there and have a close look,” he said. “I don’t think we’ve got enough ships in the whole Land of Dhrall to carry that much gold, and I’m not going to just sail away and leave most of it behind.”

  “It’s safer here, cousin,” Torl declared. “They won’t know that we’re in this hidden corridor, and quite some time ago I pried out a couple of ordinary stone blocks so that I could see what they were doing in that silly throne room, as well as hear what they were saying to each other.” He paused for a moment. “If I’d just reached in through the holes I’d made in this wall, I could have gathered up several dozen of those gold bricks.”