She made herself presentable, blew out an unsteady breath and then waved a hand over the sensor on the tiled wall. The door opened to reveal Finara stretched out on the bed, taut stomach on display. Grace’s techpad lay beside the fire goddess, apparently untouched, but the first thing Grace did after she navigated her way across the room was retrieve the device and slide it into a pocket. She then sat on the bed, facing away from Finara, and clicked her prosthesis back on.
Her mind raced. If the goddess had looked through the techpad, she would have seen Grace’s files, those old Webcasts, possibly even the one that —
‘I want to take you to dinner,’ Finara declared.
‘We just met,’ Grace reminded her. ‘I don’t know you well enough to have dinner with you, let alone allow you to do indecent things to me.’
‘That’s what the dinner’s for, to get to know me,’ Finara persisted.
Grace looked at the door. She wasn’t sure if she should make a run for it or try ordering the goddess to leave.
Finara sighed. ‘You don’t have to order me. You can just ask.’
‘So you can read my mind.’
‘Surface thoughts, mostly. I can go in deeper if I want, but it takes effort.’
‘Can all sub-level gods do this?’ Grace asked before she could stop herself. She shook her head, annoyed. She wasn’t a mediaist anymore, she wasn’t curious, she was just…
‘No,’ Finara answered, continuing to watch Grace with those fascinating flame-filled eyes. ‘Some of my brothers and sisters can; some can’t. Others are more powerful and have abilities like telekinesis and healing. Oh — and each of us has special individual powers that help us look after our assigned domains.’
Grace felt her palms itch from the need to grab her techpad and write down everything Finara was telling her. She crossed her arms, restraining the urge. ‘You shouldn’t be telling me this. I’m a mortal.’
‘And here I thought you were a mediaist,’ Finara said.
Grace flinched, a hand clasped to the bulge the techpad was making in her pocket.
‘Relax, I didn’t rifle through your things,’ Finara assured her. ‘I didn’t have time. But some of your Webcasts were flitting through your thoughts. You remember all of them — word for word. That must be handy. Well, don’t you want to interview me? Get a scoop? Gain viewers?’
‘I did not come here to revive my career,’ Grace snapped.
‘Then why did you come here, Ms Has-Been Mediaist?’
Grace feared the goddess had already seen it in her mind.
Finara shook her head. ‘No, you’re keeping that one pretty close to your chest.’
‘I came here to die,’ Grace told her. The next part was harder to say, for some undefinable reason. ‘Now get out. I don’t want to see you again.’
Grace didn’t dare look at the goddess’ face as it dissolved into flames.
• • •
As soon as the fiery vortex that had transported Finara to her destination fell away, the rainforest began assaulting her with cloying humidity. Grimacing, Finara strode down the path leading from the waterfall, where her brother always insisted she appear so he’d have some warning of her arrival, to the hidden abode belonging to the Rforine, the rainforest god. This world, Bagaran, was famous for having been the battleground of the first and last conflict between the Chippers and a sub-level god.
Since then, Kuja had managed to establish peace with GLEA — with the assistance of one Head General Zareth Sins, who was actually the former lover of the Rforine’s wife. Kuja had married Fei without telling her about his godhood and had begged Finara to help him hide his true identity. Fei had been justifiably pissed off when she’d found out what Kuja had been keeping from her (especially since he’d neglected to mention the fact that he’d made her immortal), but now she and Kuja shared a happy existence with their son, Micadei.
And Fei’s mortal mother, Berale Neron.
Berale stood at the entrance to the rainforest god’s residence, which seemed bigger than when Finara had last seen it, but she didn’t find this surprising. The hovel grew whenever extra space was required — the rainforest was always eager to help their god with his needs.
Eyeing the Firine, Berale said, ‘You just couldn’t help yourself. Had to go on the Webcasts and show off to the entire galaxy, didn’t you.’
Finara snorted and waved a hand towards the sky, where a GLEA vessel had once orbited, its weapons trained on the defenceless planet. ‘At least I didn’t almost start a war with the Chippers. Come on — hurry up and hug me before I change my mind.’
The mortal obliged her. Berale’s hair, shot through with grey, indicated that she was ageing, that she would die sooner rather than later, her blood and bones feeding the rainforest. Finara did not understand why the woman was at peace with this. Thanks to Kuja, Berale’s daughter and grandson would live eternally. They’d probably forget Berale, given enough time.
Finara had continued to visit Kuja in the hopes that she would learn how to make her followers love her, the way Kuja’s loved him. Though this had yet to work, Finara enjoyed the company of her brother’s family. There was something comforting about having somewhere she could retreat to, somewhere she didn’t have to be a god.
‘I need you to answer a question for me,’ Finara said, carefully extracting herself from Berale’s embrace.
‘No time for pleasantries, as usual,’ Berale noted, hands dropping onto her ample hips.
‘Why would a mortal want to die?’ Finara rushed out.
Berale stared at the goddess, then laughed and stood side on, opening up a space between herself and the doorway. ‘That’s a serious question! Come on in, dear. You look like you need a good feed.’
‘You know we sub-level gods don’t actually need to eat anything,’ Finara reminded her.
‘I spent a good two hours making this particular dish, so you will eat it and tell me it’s the most wonderful thing you have ever tasted in all your centuries,’ Berale said, her voice stern. The grin belied her threat.
Finara smirked in response. ‘I can tell you anything you want to hear. You’re the one who has to pretend I mean what I say.’
• • •
The eating area was larger than most spaces in Kuja’s hovel and one of the walls was more window than it was wood, offering an uninterrupted view of the nearby waterfall. Finara suppressed a shudder at the encompassing greenness of her brother’s domain, then turned back to her audience, which consisted of Berale, Kuja, Fei and Micadei (who was in his mother’s lap). Finara had just finished explaining her encounter with Grace. Her bowl lay untouched on the low table. So far Berale had not rebuked Finara for this transgression, but it was only a matter of time.
‘What did you say her name was?’ Fei asked. She sealed her hands over Micadei’s when he clapped too exuberantly, causing vines to shoot out of the floor. He was definitely his father’s son — and he was also why Kuja and Fei had needed to move out here, in case the mortals in the village where they had first lived became too suspicious.
‘Because I can ask Ton Tinel if he knows anything about her,’ Fei continued. ‘He keeps an eye on any up-and-coming mediaists he thinks might challenge him and poach his viewership.’
A frown was steadily growing on Kuja’s face. ‘I am not sure why you’re so concerned about this woman, Finara. You usually don’t spend more than one night with someone.’
Finara rolled her eyes. ‘Kuja, bro, this isn’t undying love or anything stupid like that. She’s an attractive woman, isn’t as annoying as most humans, and I’ve decided that I want her, if she’s any good at her job, to tell my story to the galaxy.’
‘You do not want that much attention,’ Kuja warned her. ‘Ever since the mediaists started mentioning me in their Webcasts, I’ve had to struggle to keep up with everyone who needs my help.’
‘That’s your fault for proclaiming yourself the god of casualties and lost causes,’ Finara told him with a snort. ‘A
nd you let everyone know you’d listen to them, no matter their faith — no wonder you’re struggling!’
Fei laid a hand on her husband’s arm. ‘Kuja, it’s her choice how she runs her domain and how she looks after her people. You said you’d help her with this, remember?’
Kuja dropped back down onto the earth-packed floor and re-crossed his legs. He didn’t seem to have realised that he’d been clambering to his feet until his wife had spoken to him.
‘Well? Any ideas?’ Finara demanded, glowering at each of them in turn — even Micadei, though her nephew just grinned at her in response. ‘Why would someone want to die? Mortals usually have a deep-rooted sense of entitlement. They think they’re owed everything, including life.’
‘Finara, why do you think I don’t want to be immortal?’ Berale asked, brown eyes gentle.
Finara shrugged. ‘Because you don’t want to have to put up with me forever?’
Berale chuckled and shook her head. ‘No, dear. Eternity is an unbearably long amount of time. I’d rather die before things got too boring.’
‘Life isn’t boring if you’re doing it right,’ Finara shot back.
Fei hummed to herself as she began swiping her fingers over the screen of her techpad. After a few moments, the device pinged and everyone looked expectantly at the rainforest god’s wife.
‘Ton Tinel responded,’ Fei announced.
‘Already?’ Kuja asked, lines creasing his forehead. ‘Is he being this helpful because he thinks he might get to speak me directly?’
Fei smiled sideways at him. ‘Don’t worry, Kuja, Ton doesn’t know who you are — he doesn’t even know I’m married! He just feels that he owes me for some of his good fortune. Ever since he covered the talks on Yalsa 5, he’s become even more wealthy and famous. If that’s possible.’
Holding in a growl of frustration, Finara marched over and snatched the techpad out of her sister-in-law’s hands. She immediately opened the vid attached to Ton Tinel’s message; it was a Webcast, featuring a very familiar mediaist.
‘…the escalating tension between the factions on Eransia has resulted in all-out war today,’ Grace Pendergast said, dressed in a high-waisted pantsuit. The scar across her left eyebrow was missing and she stood taller, prouder, though Finara suspected this wasn’t just because she had yet to wear a prosthetic leg. Behind Grace, in a valley, sat a semi-spherical forcefield that shimmered unsteadily, clearly in danger of collapsing at any moment. Most mediaists reported from the safety of their starships in orbit. Grace was actually on the frontline.
‘While the Loyalists have refused to talk to me regarding the future of the planet, the so-called Freedomists have agreed to meet with me and list their demands…’ Grace looked skyward. ‘What? What’s happening?’
Static abruptly washed over the techpad, but not before the mediaist began to scream.
Finara swallowed. ‘That’s when she lost the leg.’
‘There’s more,’ Fei said, leaning over to yank the techpad back from Finara’s limp grasp. ‘Ton says that Grace was small-time, trying to attract the attention of wealthy sponsors. She went planetside to get exclusive interviews, in an attempt to drum up more viewers, but in doing so she revealed the location of the Freedomists. The Loyalists attacked them the moment they saw her Webcast. As you probably saw, the shield could not take that kind of bombardment.’
‘Oh, that poor woman,’ Berale murmured.
‘Mediaists are supposed to report the news, not make it,’ Fei went on grimly. ‘Ton says he lambasted her for it in one of his Webcasts. He regrets it now because she’s fallen off everyone’s radar. He actually looked into her to make sure she was okay, but no one knows where she went after she emptied her bank account two Old Earth weeks ago.’
Silence reigned for several long moments, broken only when Micadei bounced in Fei’s lap and exclaimed, ‘Aunty Finfin! No frown!’
Finara knelt beside her nephew and met his emerald stare, twisting her lips until they formed the angle she was aiming for. ‘There. Big, big grin. Better?’
Micadei’s face wrinkled up. Evidently she’d failed to impress him.
‘Finara, you don’t need to do this to yourself, she’s not one of your people,’ Kuja said quietly.
Finara flung a scowl at him, ignoring Micadei’s renewed complaints. ‘You listen to the millions who’ve started calling your name — and I bet most of them aren’t even in your domain. And anyway, I’m not going to talk her out of her plan, shitty though it is. I have something else in mind.’
• • •
The sun, filtered through the hotel’s forcefield, did very little to darken her complexion. Grace was not prone to sunburn, but it was nice for the warmth on her skin to feel more like a caress than a continuous stream of lasbolts.
She had forgone the jacket of her suit today and had rolled the pants up to her thighs. A FizzWhizz, the neon-pink drink that was the hotel’s speciality, sat on the table beside her, a little too sweet but potent enough to dull the steady ache inside her. Occasionally water from the pool splashed up onto her slick black heels, the unruly waves sent by children who had been unleashed by their parents.
The hotel had filled up over the past day or so, the latest bookings no doubt fuelled by the appearance of the fire goddess. Grace had even spotted a cluster of purple-clad GLEA agents. She wasn’t surprised that the Chippers had arrived; they had been trying to make peace with the galaxy’s array of sub-level gods for the past three years, though it was difficult for them to find any gods, let alone speak to them. The fire goddess would be a top priority now.
A shadow fell over Grace, blocking her sunlight.
‘I have a scoop for you, Ms Pendergast,’ Finara’s voice declared.
Grace opened her eyes. ‘Ms Fire Goddess. You should extend your offer to one of the other mediaists in attendance. Or you could talk to the Chippers — they’re even more desperate than the mediaists. I heard they’re even offering a monetary reward to anyone who can set up a meeting with you. They don’t drop their coin-chips for just anyone. I’d feel flattered if I was you.’
‘I want to talk to you,’ Finara said, dropping into the closest deckchair.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Grace told her. ‘I’m killing myself in six days.’
‘But don’t you want to have one last big story, and all the notoriety that goes with it, before you die?’ Finara baited.
Grace gave her a baleful look. Finara was yet again clad in one of her revealing dancing outfits. It was very hard for Grace to keep her eyes on the goddess’ face. ‘I just want to relax and enjoy the rest of my time here. I have no unfinished business.’
‘Then why were you at a speed dating event? Hoping for one last fling before you take on a volcano?’
‘It’s not important,’ Grace said.
‘Ha, I disagree, your mind just got all churned up.’ Finara leaned over to swipe Grace’s drink from the table. She knocked it back in one gulp. ‘Eugh. Filth. How can anyone get drunk on that?’
Heads were now turning in their direction, eyes wide and mouths agape. The whispers had started and countless fingers were being pointed. The fire goddess waved at a few of the interested parties and loudly offered to sign autographs, but no one seemed to want to take her up on the offer.
‘I’m not going to kill any of you,’ Finara assured them, still waving. ‘That would defeat the purpose of trying to gain new followers, wouldn’t it?’
Grace grabbed her arm and held it still. ‘If you want to give a mediaist an exclusive, you shouldn’t be saying so much in public.’
‘Then let me give you an exclusive,’ Finara said.
‘Not happening. Forget it.’
The goddess pursed her lips for a moment, then grinned. ‘I won’t let you kill yourself until you do this for me. I can stop anything the volcano spits out before it touches you.’
‘There are other ways I can end my life!’ Grace hissed. She realised that she hadn’t let go of Finar
a’s arm and hastily did so.
‘I can stop you doing those too,’ Finara told her. ‘I’ll just teleport you into a padded room.’
‘You are manipulating me.’
Finara winked at Grace. ‘Yes, I am. And hey, I’ll even let you get something out of the deal. It’s clear you want a fling, right?’
‘I’m a virgin,’ Grace told her calmly. There was no point pretending it wasn’t on her mind. The goddess, with her abilities, would have seen it eventually.
Understanding lit the goddess’ face. ‘Ah! There we go. Your unfinished business. I’ll help you with that, make your name great like you were trying to do on Eransia before your leg got blown off, and then let you die. Easy.’
‘Easy,’ Grace repeated. ‘Do you know what really eats me up about Eransia?’
The goddess didn’t miss a beat. ‘Yeah, giving away the position of the people who trusted you enough to give you full access. That’d eat me up too, if I was mortal. At least, I think it would.’
Grace firmly rubbed her forehead, but the headache remained. ‘Is nothing safe in my mind? You are encroaching on my privacy. But no! It’s not just that. Eransia wasn’t the first time that people died because of — ’
Another set of shadows fell over Grace. She looked up at the handful of Chippers who had crept over to the deckchairs; they were viewing Finara with a mixture of fear and respect.
‘Goddess of fire?’ one of GLEA’s agents hazarded. ‘“Firine” being your official title?’
‘Correct, that’s me,’ Finara replied.
The Chipper in charge (he had many more gold strokes on the shoulders of his purple jumpsuit than his companions did) cleared his throat. ‘We have been sent by Head General Zareth Sins to open up a dialogue of peace with you.’
The Galactic Pantheon Novellas Page 2