by Garon Whited
“I think I see,” Flim agreed, nodding. Reth looked dubious.
“Good. Now, is there anything I can do to help you?”
“Everything you have said is all we could require, Your Majesty.”
“Wonderful. I wish I could take time to sit down at the drawing board with you; I’d love to see what other ideas you’ve had. The kinging business waits for no man, though.” I turned to Bronze and found her grazing on metallic bits in the workyard. I mounted up and we turned about. That’s when I spotted several faces looking out the windows at us. Three of them were in Flim’s house.
“Family?” I asked him. He nodded and hustled over to the house; Bronze followed him at a walk. I renewed acquaintance with Jessa, Flim’s wife, and met both Tessa, Zaren’s wife, and his son, Devert. Tessa was almost done building their second child, but it would be another few weeks before she finished. I didn’t get to meet the kid formally, but I did say hello. She kicked a little and pressed one hand against the inside of her mother’s belly, as though trying to touch mine.
“By the way, do you want to know if it’s a boy or girl?”
“It’s a girl,” Tessa said. “We already know.”
“In a city full of wizards, I should have expected that. Well, good to meet you all and a pleasure. Farewell.”
Bronze whisked me away to the Temple of Flame. As expected, Amber was still up and around. I’m not sure she sleeps any more than I do. We supernatural entities can be weird like that. I wonder if she ever regrets being a creature composed of quasi-solid flame and magic. I wonder… but I’ll never ask. I don’t think I could bear it if she told me she hated it.
I dismounted and entered the Temple. She was meditating in the flames, as usual. She opened her fiery eyes as I came in. She smiled, rising like a pile of leaves set aflame.
“Father!” she crackle-pop-roared. “It’s so good to see you again!” She held out her arms and I hugged her in that strange, not-quite-solid manner. Her hair flowed forward around me like a forest fire. She kissed me lightly, like a candle-flame.
“Hello, Amber. I was in Mochara and thought I’d stop in. How have you been?”
“Well enough. Tianna tells me you have been busy.”
“She’s not wrong.”
“Tell me all about it,” she encouraged, settling her fiery self into her fireplace-dais-stage-lounge. She almost vanished amid the sudden rustle of flames, but the small bonfire settled into coals again and she stood out perfectly, shimmering slightly in the waves of heat. I parked myself on the nearest bench and spent a goodly while explaining about magical carriages, shotguns, networks of magic mirrors, genies that listen and remember everything… basically, magical terminology for all the technological terrors mankind creates. While all of it was interesting to her, she really seemed to focus on my troubles with other vampires, various houses of magi, and the local problems with Lissette and Thomen and the Church of Light. I guess technology is just another collection of gadgets, really.
“So,” she said, when I finished, “you’ve managed to anger a bunch of lesser breeds of nightlords as well as family-tradition magicians?”
“Well… sort of. Yes. I suppose.”
“When are you going to deal with that?”
It was not the best thing she could have said. I didn’t take it as “Father, dear, please tell me you’ll keep yourself safe by dealing with these things immediately.” I should have; her tone, insofar as she had a perceptible tone, implied it. What I heard, though, was more like, “And you haven’t dealt with this yet, you lazy bum?”
I took a couple of pointless breaths and made sure my own tone was under control. She didn’t mean to poke the bear.
“First off, let me explain how angry I am. I’m trying to distract myself with my other problems until I can devote all my attention to Johann. I’m going to kill him eventually, but most important is the fact I’m going to hurt him. Killing him just sends him to the foot of the line in reincarnation terms. I want him to suffer. Then I’ll kill him.”
“I thought you didn’t like torture?”
“I abhor torture.”
“And yet…?”
“This isn’t torture. I don’t want anything out of him. I don’t intend to extract information. All I want is to punish him. I’m going to inflict pain! Lots of pain! I’ll break him, piece by piece, and set fire to the screaming pieces! I’m going to rip the son of a bitch apart and eat his heart before he dies!” I shut myself up and took a deep breath. “Excuse me. I’m not ready to get into that.”
“I see,” she said, faintly. Her eyes looked past me, behind me. I didn’t bother to turn around.
“My shadow is doing something creepy, violent, or both, right?”
“Yes!”
“Ignore it and it’ll settle down,” I advised.
“All right.” She returned her attention to me. “While I accept your reasons as valid reasons—for you—I don’t completely agree.”
“Excuse me?”
“What I mean to say is, if it happened to me, I do not believe I would have the same reaction. I’m sorry, Father, but I wouldn’t.” She shrugged, a ripple of fire running all along her form. “I agree, however, you have to do this your way. It isn’t my place to say what’s right for you.”
“Huh. That’s… surprisingly fair.”
“You are my father. I don’t have to like whatever else you are, but I… am… I have been trying to understand you. It hasn’t been easy, but watching the Demon King…” she trailed off.
“It was a horrible experience?” I guessed.
“Yes. But the contrast was striking. From what I understand, all that he was also lives in you. Yet I do not see it. The comparison is… well, it has given me great respect for your nobler qualities.”
“I’m sorry about him.”
“Let’s talk about something else. We have an army and ships headed for Mochara?”
“Currently, yes. I think the army will turn back, which may cause the ships to return. If the ships come ahead by themselves, we need to be ready for them.”
“Will you be attacking from below?”
“No, I’m sure they’re ready for my keel-cracking trick. Will you be incinerating from above?”
“No, but if they make it over the walls, I’ll sweep them with fire. Do we need to do something with the Wizards’ Guild in Mochara?”
“Like what?”
“Arrest them?” she suggested.
“Why would—oh, damn. They may be loyal to their guildmaster, Thomen, rather than to me.”
“Did you really only think of it now?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a wonder you’ve survived this long.”
“I get by with a little help from my friends.”
“What will you do about this?”
“Probably invade their privacy and do something dreadful. This whole business—trying to get off the throne without making more of a mess of things—has been harder than dealing with a plateful of bad burritos.”
“I don’t think I understand. And, from what little I did understand, I’m probably happier in my ignorance than otherwise.”
“The whole thing stinks,” I simplified.
“Yes, I was correct. Please do not further damage my ignorance on this subject.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Guildhall still where it used to be?”
“Yes.”
“Then I need to bother them.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Aside from prepare to defend Mochara and most especially yourself? No, I don’t think so.”
“Very well. Before you go haring off to be heroic and noble and leader-ish, can you take a minute to sit down and listen?”
“Flapping my ears at you now,” I replied. “You want my attention? All you had to do was ask.”
“I’m about to be religious at you,” she warned.
“Noted.”
“Do you remember we were talking about Beryl?”
“Vividly. Do you want to know how I feel about it? Is that it?”
“No, I only want you to think back to it. How you feel about it—and about the Mother—is between the two of you. I was barely there.”
“For you, okay. I’m recalling it. I don’t like it, but I’m thinking about it.”
“You mentioned something about how the Mother tried to destroy you, and how you tried to kill Her, and so forth?”
“I recall something about it, yes. I’m not sure what I said, exactly.”
“You left me with the impression you thought you were actually a danger to Her.”
“I took a big, fat bite out of her, if that’s what you mean.”
Amber looked troubled. Her flames changed from reddish-orange to a more orangey-yellow.
“Dad, what I’m about to tell you is based on… well… I’m not really privy to what goes on in the Halls of the Gods. I hear things, obviously, when the Mother and I talk. She speaks through me and I… get flashes, images, ideas. Things like that.”
“Leakage.”
“That’s not a bad word for it, I suppose.”
“And what did you discover?”
“Dad, the Mother was never in any danger. What seemed like a huge bite to you was little more than an annoyance to Her. Your perspective on the matter was limited, mortal—mortal in the sense of being a limited, material entity. Later, when you ascended temporarily to Her plane of existence, your power was magnified, but still limited by your perceptions. Now, you’ve taken mortal form—excuse me, material form—again and become merely a Lord of Night.”
“Okay, so I didn’t do as much damage as I thought.” I shrugged. “I got my point across.”
“You did. But the Mother never intended to destroy you, not even when She blasted you with fire. It was intended to chastise you, not kill. As a nightlord, you would be hurt, severely wounded, but not destroyed. True, She did not expect you to defend against Her… spanking?… so effectively. And you certainly surprised Her by biting Her.”
“So she thinks of me as a child to be taken over her knee and swatted, but I’m one of those kids who kicks, screams, and bites.” I shrugged again. “Tough luck for her.”
“I suppose, in a manner of speaking, that is correct. More important is the fact you reached a plane of existence that mortal, material beings cannot reach. There is no material existence on Her plane… I think.”
“To boldly go where no one has gone before,” I quoted. “Why is this important?”
“You know you were… how they regarded you as one of their own?”
“I was a god? Temporarily, in a minor capacity, and unstable as hell, but a god? Yes, I know. I had a couple of conversations, walked around, saw the sights, got punched by Father Sky, that sort of thing. Good times. Then I stretched my skinsuit out a bit and squeezed my pudgy astral butt back into it.”
“Err… yes. I am not privy to the details.”
“They’re a bit fuzzy for me, too, but from my point of view, here’s what happened—”
“No, that’s quite all right,” she protested, holding up a fiery hand. “It’s not my business. What is my business—and yours, now—is a peculiarity of the laws of the gods. Or, perhaps, their pact. Perhaps their agreement, or covenant.”
“Oh?”
“They forbid violence done to each other. They forbid themselves to fight amongst themselves. Their followers may war across the face of the world, but the gods never attack each other.”
“Father Sky once punched me.”
“I don’t doubt it. I get the impression He has suffered for it, but I don’t know the specifics. I am certain He will not do so again.”
“So, I shouldn’t worry about being outside during a thunderstorm?”
“I suspect it goes further than that.”
“I mean, he’s not going to hit me with lightning because he’s still cheesed at me?”
“I mean that none of the gods will do anything to you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The Mother refuses to burn you. How else could you enter the flames to save me after the assassin’s blade found me?”
“Huh. I thought I was immune to divine fire after drinking her spirit.”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m dead sure about that, at least. Pact or no, She refuses to harm you. She also tells me you are not to be harmed in another sense. Many of the gods would be pleased to smite you if only they had a priest close enough to direct Their powers. Have you noticed such occasions with other gods? Followers of other gods attempting to bring the power of their faith to bear, and failing?”
I thought back to a few occasions when I felt the regard of some of the local deities, but no wrath.
“It’s possible.”
“When you became a god, you gained all the rights of one. They still debate the technicalities of the thing, or so I infer, but until they settle the matter among themselves, they will not touch you directly.”
“If so, that’s a relief. I was worried I might have some sort of deific smell or something. Don’t get me wrong; I like it when a Church of Light goon aims his medallion at me and nothing happens. I’m just as pleased, though, to find out it’s the so-called gods acting politely instead of some sort of some special demigod quality in myself. I’m weird enough as it is.
“You know,” I added, “I wish I’d known about this mutual amnesty-slash-immunity thing earlier. I could have milked it for all it was worth. A bunch of unpleasant religious types would have turned into proto-sausage and the world might be a better place for it. And I wouldn’t have had such a nasty case of anxiety about accidental religious incineration.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t begin to suspect until quite a while after my own change-of-state. By then, I didn’t feel the Demon King needed to know.”
“I’m not complaining.” I paused and thought about it. “On second thought, I suppose I am. I shouldn’t complain at you.”
“I wish I could help more. If I learn anything else, I’ll tell you as quickly as I can.”
“That’s… huh. Actually, that does kind of make me feel better. I don’t suppose I should push my luck by demanding an explanation from Spar—uh, from the Mother of Flame for the Zirafel incident?”
“She had Her reasons. I’m told you might not think they were good reasons, or sufficient, or something, but She had them. The ways of the gods are not the ways of men.”
“Hmm. I’ve just been told I have diplomatic immunity to the gods. You know what? I’m going to quit while I’m ahead. Compared to my other problems, why Sparky does anything is so far down the list I might never get to it.”
“Probably best, Father.”
“How about we talk about you, instead?”
“Certainly,” Amber replied, settling back and smiling. “What would you like to know?”
“I have no idea. I’m still a complete failure as a father.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You may not have been present for much of my life, but it means you did not fight with the Mother. Yet I felt your influence in many ways.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. You were all around me in this world, much as the Mother was all around me in the other. Your influence on the people around me was, by its very nature, an indirect influence on me. I can see now how I resented the lack of your physical presence, true… but I am older and wiser, and have had opportunity to know you, not merely your reputation.”
“I’m not sure that counts.”
“I am.”
“It doesn’t feel right to me.”
“Does your opinion on it matter as much as mine?”
I had to think about it for a minute.
“I disagree, but reluctantly concede your point.”
“Good. Is there anything else about which you feel insecure or inadequate?”
“That’s probably not a good question to ask any man, especially your father.”
“Also true. But we seem to have wandered back to talking about you, again.”
“I’ll shut up.”
“We’ll see.”
Amber did her best to tell me about her life. We talked until the small hours of the morning. Since it’s her life, it’s not my story to tell.
Monday, February 23rd
At least our return to Karvalen was fairly straightforward. Rather than take the secret tunnel, we headed along the main canal road. During the day, nobody camps on it; they’re trudging one direction or the other, leaving the center clear. We slowed slightly and did some lane changes as we passed horses towing canal barges, but otherwise had a straight, solid run.
In Karvalen, I finally got to see the new Kingsway.
The dragon’s head was formed of dark stone, possibly basalt. The eyes were definitely obsidian; they were black and glittery and seemed to follow you when you moved. Or maybe they really did follow. I don’t know how the mountain would do it, but I won’t say it’s impossible. The whole thing was wide and tall, a massive sculpture fit for gulping down a wagon—if you could get a wagon up the steep stairs. The lower jaw had steps formed into the dragon’s tongue, and the teeth reminded me of the time I looked a young dragon in the face, but bigger. Carnivore teeth. Sharp, tearing teeth. It made me leery of ever encountering a full-grown specimen.
I like it, Boss.
I’m not surprised.
Can you get it to breathe fire?
Probably. Everything else seems to.
Eh? What do you mean?
You breathe fire, Bronze breathes fire, Tamara, Amber, and Tianna breathe fire—there’s a lot fire around here.
It’s the way of the world, Boss. Everything is made of the five elements, and fire is the life inside it all.
Five elements? I repeated. Wait, Jon went over this with me. Earth, air, water, fire… what was the fifth?
Emptiness. Nothingness. That thing.
Right. It’s the hole in the center of a wheel that makes it useful, or something. Philosophical. But you say fire is the life inside everything?
I ought to know, Boss.
So you should. I accept your statement as a fundamental truth of this world. I’m still not sure how to get the Kingsway to breathe fire, though. A barrel of oil poured down from the top, maybe.