“I’ll concede that it’s much, much prettier than the moon was when Mother Sea sent me there,” Veltan admitted. “Of course the moon lied to me when she told me that Mother Sea was still angry with me for tampering with her color.”
“You can’t really trust the moon, Uncle,” Vash said.
Dakas gently lowered Dahlaine onto the Land of Dreams, and old Grey-Beard, evidently still a bit irritated, glanced around. “We have something very important to attend to,” he told them all, “and looking at the imaginary scenery here is just a waste of time.”
“There’s no great rush, Uncle,” Dakas said. “Time doesn’t really exist here. When Balacenia and Vash brought us here last summer, it seemed like we’d been here for months and months, but that was only a dream. When we woke up again, we were all back home and only one night had passed. We can take our time making our decision because time doesn’t mean anything here. A century—or even an eon—can crawl past, and the world won’t be a day older.”
Omago and Ara were still caught up in the glory of the aurora, but Veltan, with a slightly worried look on his face, quietly approached them. “Just how are we going to create a god to replace sister Aracia?” he asked them.
“She’s already here, Veltan,” Omago replied. “All we have to do is persuade her to take up the position—if that’s the right term.”
Veltan looked around. “I don’t see any unfamiliar faces,” he said.
“Of course you don’t, dear Veltan,” Mother Ara said. “You’ve probably known her since she was a baby. You did visit Zelana in her grotto a few times after the children arrived, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—” Veltan stopped, and his eyes went wide as he stared at Eleria. “Are you saying that you’re going to pile two Domains on poor Balacenia’s shoulders?”
“We wouldn’t do that, dear Veltan,” Ara said. “Eleria and Balacenia were separated a long, long time ago.” She paused briefly. “That’s in baby-terms, of course. Eleria was too independent, and Balacenia enjoyed her company so much that she didn’t put any restrictions on her. It could be, I suppose, that Mother Sea and Father Earth knew that Aracia would destroy herself eventually, so they made Eleria very special.”
“Why is everybody always talking about me like that, Big-Me?” Eleria asked.
“Because you’re so special, Little-Me,” Balacenia replied. “Isn’t being special a lot of fun?”
“Not for me it isn’t,” Eleria said. “I’m not feeling the least bit goddish, so tell the others to go pick somebody else.”
“Who?” Balacenia replied. “There’s nobody else available. You spent your childhood playing with the pink dolphins, and that separated you and me so much that we’ll never be able to meld into a single person again. You already have as much power—or even more—than any of the rest of us—elder or younger—have. Like it or not, you will replace Aracia when Enalla starts feeling sleepy.”
“I don’t want it!” Eleria almost shouted, stamping her foot on the ground.
“‘Want’ has nothing to do with it, dear Little-Me,” Balacenia said rather bluntly. “Like it or not, you will be the goddess of the East when Enalla goes to sleep.”
Eleria was definitely sulky after Balacenia had harshly dropped the truth on her. Eleria had always been able to persuade various people to do what she wanted them to do, but Balacenia had just deliberately slammed that door in Eleria’s face. She gave her sweet little alternate some time to sulk before she moved on. “Stop pouting so much, Little-Me,” she said. “Zelana’s coming, so don’t get her all upset.” Then she paused. “You do know that we absolutely must replace Aracia—soon.”
“What do you mean by ‘soon,’ Big-Me?” Eleria demanded. “Enalla—or Lillabeth—will run things in the East for the next twenty-five eons, won’t she?”
“Yes, she will, and that gives you twenty-five eons to grow accustomed to the new Eleria.”
“No! No! No!” Eleria screamed, stamping her foot on the ground again.
“Don’t do that, Little-Me,” Balacenia scolded her. “You’re just being silly.” Then she paused and spoke more quietly. “You do realize, don’t you, that the real gods, Omago and Ara, will have to give you anything you want to persuade you to accept Aracia’s silly temple?”
“Anything?” Eleria replied, looking suddenly more interested.
“You name it, Little-Me, and they’ll have to give it to you.”
“Are you absolutely certain sure about that, Big-Me?”
“Tell them to kick down all the mountains or grab the moon and throw her away, and they’ll have to do what you tell them to do.”
“Well now,” Eleria replied. “Isn’t that interesting?”
2
Balacenia and Eleria went across the Land of Dreams to a nearby grassy hilltop where Ara was showing the aurora to her mate.
“It’s beautiful, dear heart,” he said to Ara. “It looks almost like the whole sky is suddenly in bloom.”
Ara smiled fondly. “You have always loved blossoms, dear heart, but I doubt that you’ve ever seen the sky in bloom before.”
“When Vash and I were constructing this land, we spent a lot of time making her pretty. The outside world way back then wasn’t really very attractive, so Vash and I concentrated on beauty,” Balacenia explained.
“And you did very, very well,” Omago said.
“Do you suppose we could get down to business here?” Eleria asked rather tartly.
“Mind your manners, Little-Me,” Balacenia chided.
“I’m being as polite as I can, Big-Me. I’m not the least bit interested in replacing that monster who destroyed herself trying to kill Lillabeth. I do not want a temple, and I do not want any part of a priesthood pretending to adore me. I’d much rather go back to the pink grotto so I can play with my dolphins and tend to the Beloved while she’s asleep. Why does there have to be an extra goddess in the East anyway? Just tear down that silly temple and tell the fat priests that their life of luxury is over. Let Lillabeth and Enalla take care of things there.”
“It won’t work that way,” Omago explained. “They will return to being one single identity, small one.”
“That’s ‘Little-Me,’” Eleria corrected.
“I didn’t quite follow that,” Omago conceded.
“Everybody knows that Balacenia is ‘Big-Me,’ and I’m ‘Little-Me,’” Eleria replied. Then she gave Omago an arch—and very familiar—look. “Now you owe me a hug,” she told him.
“I’d be just a little careful along about now, Omago,” Balacenia cautioned. “Eleria’s been hugging people into submission for years now. When she wants something, she’ll hug it out of you.”
“Tattle-tale,” Eleria accused her alternate. Then she looked back at Omago and Ara. “What’s so important about having two goddesses in the East?”
“Balance, Little-You,” Omago explained. “If there aren’t two divinities in each region, it will be out of balance, and it could very well irritate Mother Sea and Father Earth. You saw what happened when Yaltar—who’s really Vash—unleashed those volcanos at the head of the ravine above Lattash, and they were only toys compared to what Father Earth can do if he’s irritated. Let’s keep things safe, Little-You.”
“I like him,” Eleria said to Ara. “Does he hug good?”
Ara looked more than a little startled by that question. “As far as I can remember I’ve never had any reason to complain,” she replied, blushing slightly.
“Good. Hugs are very important, you know.”
Omago actually looked just a bit embarrassed, and Balacenia covered her mouth to conceal her grin.
“All right,” Eleria said. “All this talking is very nice, and now we know each other much better, so here comes the question you’ve been waiting for. What’s in this for me?”
“You’ll be a goddess, Little-You,” Ara replied.
“Why would I want anything that silly? If I asked my pink dolphins to adore me, they’d giggle m
e right out of the water and never let me go back in again. You’re going to have to come up with something better.”
“Such as what, Little-You?” Ara asked.
“Don’t rush me,” Eleria replied. “I’m working on it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I make my decision.” Then she turned and started on back down the hill again. “Are you coming, Big-Me?” she asked Balacenia.
They went on down the hill and paused in a grove of blossom-covered trees.
“You did very, very well, Little-Me,” Balacenia praised her little blonde alternate. “You were blunt enough to get their immediate attention, and then you left them both up in the air when you told them that you hadn’t yet decided what you really want.”
“That’s easy, Big-Me,” Eleria replied. “I want them to leave me alone.”
“They won’t do that, Little-Me. What’s your next choice? Make it as impossible as you can.”
“What I really don’t understand is why they want to drop this thing on me. If they wanted somebody who’d done more than anybody else to defeat the Vlagh, they’d have chosen Longbow. He’s the one who actually won the war against the bugs, you know. Not only that, he’s just about the best in the world when it comes to hugs.”
“Is that all you ever think about, Little-Me?” Balacenia demanded a bit peevishly.
“Hugs are important, Big-Me.” Then Eleria peered out through the blossom-covered tree-limbs. “Here comes the Beloved. Maybe she can solve this problem for us.”
“What are you two up to now?” Zelana asked rather shortly.
Balacenia shrugged. “Little-Me doesn’t want to be a goddess, and she definitely doesn’t want to replace crazy Aracia.”
“Be nice,” Zelana murmured absently.
“I was just telling Big-Me here that if Omago and Ara wanted to elevate somebody to godhood, they should talk with Longbow. If anybody in the world has earned immortality, it’s Longbow. If he hadn’t been there, all the outlanders—and the native people as well—would have been eaten by the bugs.”
Zelana sighed. “Even if Ara and Omago offered him the position, Longbow would turn them down. He doesn’t really want anything. His life has been totally empty since the death of Misty-Water.”
“That’s the answer then,” Balacenia declared.
“Revive Misty-Water, you mean,” Eleria said. “We may not look very much alike, Big-Me, but we think almost exactly the same—or hadn’t that come to you just yet?” Then she turned to Zelana. “Ara and Omago could do that, couldn’t they, Beloved?”
Zelana frowned. “It’s altogether possible, I think. They’d have to go back in time, but they do that all the time.”
“And then we’d have a happy Longbow instead of the gloomy one we all know and love. I’d say that it’s worth trying. If I tell Ara and Omago that Misty-Water is my price, they might decide to go pester somebody else.”
Balacenia had a strong feeling that she was missing something that might be extremely important, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
“It is theoretically possible, dear heart,” Ara told her mate after Eleria had laid her demand upon them.
“I know that, yes, dear,” Omago replied, “but won’t it disrupt many, many things that have already come to pass?”
“They won’t have come to pass way back then, will they?” Eleria disagreed.
Then several things clicked together for Balacenia, and it made everything so simple that she almost laughed. “As I understand it, you two can move events forward or backward in time, can’t you?”
“It’s not really all that difficult, child. In the past we’ve had to correct many mistakes. Worlds are not really as solid as they might appear to be,” Ara explained.
Then Balacenia looked at Omago. “You recently destroyed the Vlagh, didn’t you?”
“No. All I did was render all the incipient eggs she’d been bearing in her abdomen for eons and eons null and void. She might still be able to lay eggs, but they’ll never come to life.”
“You can move things backward or forward in time, can’t you? If you’d done that a long time back, the Vlagh wouldn’t have posed any threat to the Land of Dhrall, would she? And, if she wasn’t a threat, the elder gods wouldn’t have had any reason to go hire outlander armies to come here and fight a war, would they?”
“That’s brilliant, Balacenia!” Ara exclaimed. “The way things stand now, there will always be a danger that outlander gold-seekers will invade the Land of Dhrall. But if they don’t even know that it’s here, they’ll never even try to invade.”
“And Longbow will be mated with Misty-Water,” Eleria insisted, “and the world will be more beautiful.”
“And you will agree to accept the Domain of the East as its goddess with no more arguments, right?” Omago asked shrewdly.
“On only one condition,” Eleria answered.
“And what is that?”
“You’ll give me hugs whenever I need them,” Eleria insisted.
Omago smiled. “I think I can manage that, little one,” he replied.
“You see how easy things are when you do them right, Big-Me?” Eleria said to Balacenia.
3
There was never any question that the gods—both elder and younger—would attend the ceremony that would unite Longbow with Misty-Water, the daughter of Chief Old-Bear. One of the advantages of divinity was their ability to make themselves look familiar to the ordinary man-things of Old-Bear’s tribe.
Balacenia found the deerskin clothing worn by the natives quite attractive, actually.
The one thing that startled Balacenia—and all the other gods as well—was the appearance of the young Longbow. The more familiar elder Longbow almost never smiled and there seemed to be perpetual grief in his eyes. The young Longbow smiled almost continually, and the first time Balacenia saw the beautiful Misty-Water, she knew exactly why. Balacenia had seen many, many beautiful women in her almost endless life, but Misty-Water was far and away the most beautiful Balacenia had ever encountered. Her hair was black and glossy, but her skin was pale white. Her eyes were very large, and they were almost permanently locked on Longbow.
“She is a pretty one, isn’t she?” Zelana said between yawns. Had it not been for the upcoming ceremony that would join Longbow and Misty-Water, Zelana would almost certainly be sleeping by now.
Oddly, since this joining had been her idea, Eleria didn’t seem to like Misty-Water very much. “Could you maybe put a pimple on her nose, Beloved?” she asked Zelana as the day of the ceremony grew closer.
“Why in the world would I want to do something like that, dear child?” Zelana asked mildly.
“I hate to admit it, Beloved,” Balacenia said, “but I’m catching a few hints of jealousy in Little-Me’s behavior.”
“Does she have to be that pretty?” Eleria demanded. “Longbow’s always been mine, and now she’s stealing him right out from under me.” Then she looked at the young Longbow. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she demanded.
“I’m not sure if ‘gorgeous’ is customarily used to describe male humans,” Zelana replied. “He looks much nicer without that perpetual scowl on his face, though.”
It was about noon when the shaman of the tribe, One-Who-Heals, came out of his lodge at about the same time that Chief Old-Bear escorted Longbow, dressed in golden deerskin, and Misty-Water, garbed in white leather, out to the open area at the center of the village. Old-Bear spoke quite formally when he addressed his friend. “These two children would be mated, Wise Shaman, and I have therefore summoned you to determine if it might be so.”
“And does this union have the approval of their parents, mighty Chief?” One-Who-Heals formally replied.
“I am the parent in question, Wise Shaman,” Old-Bear replied, “and I do fully approve.”
“And is this your true wish, brave Longbow?” One-Who-Heals asked.
“With all my heart, Wise Shaman,” Longbow replied in a voice much richer than Balacenia had ever heard com
ing from him before.
“And is this also your true wish, fair Misty-Water?”
“I have no other wish, One-Who-Heals,” the beautiful young woman replied in a voice that was almost musical. “And know this, Wise Shaman. Should you refuse to join us, I will surely die before tomorrow’s dawn. Longbow will ever be my heart and my soul, and without him, my life will have no meaning.”
“I wouldn’t crowd that one,” Balacenia murmured to her relatives. “If One-Who-Heals is foolish enough to refuse her, he’ll probably be dead before the sun goes down.”
“I didn’t fully understand Longbow before,” Veltan admitted. “But everything just fell into place. I’m quite sure that when this ceremony is over, we’ll be looking at the two happiest people in the world.”
“And perhaps the saddest as well,” Balacenia added, pointing at Eleria, whose eyes were filled with tears.
“Does any member of the tribe object to this union?” One-Who-Heals asked.
“That wouldn’t really be a very good idea, would it?” Balacenia said quietly to the other gods. “If Longbow didn’t kill the objector, Misty-Water probably would.”
Then One-Who-Heals straightened and raised his hand. “Since none objects, it falls to me to declare that Longbow and Misty-Water are now joined, and never will they be parted.”
The members of the tribe all cheered—at least most of them did. There were a few young men, and several young women, who chose not to cheer. They were wise enough not to denounce the joining, though.
And then the celebration began. Quite nearly every member of the tribe spoke briefly with Longbow and Misty-Water, congratulating them on their joining. Balacenia was almost positive that One-Who-Heals was really redundant. The joining of Longbow and Misty-Water had long since taken place in their hearts and minds, and nothing would ever separate them.
The congratulations of the members of the tribe continued until almost evening, and then, to Balacenia’s astonishment, Zelana approached the happy couple. “Know ye both,” she said quite formally, “that your joining was decreed by the gods of the Land of Dhrall—both elder and younger—eons ago—for in your joining lies perfection. Love has now found a home, and she will stay with you forever.”
The Younger Gods Page 31