by Eileen Wilks
“Well. I don’t know if I should say. My lord wished me to answer some of your questions, but I’m not sure he wants . . .”
Malek’s voice faded. Everything faded. Her senses. Her body. She felt nothing, no sensation whatsoever. No sight, sound, no sense of her body, of space around her—and yet she experienced motion. Motion that went on and on and she would have screamed if she’d had a throat or lungs or—
THIRTY-EIGHT
KAI arrived standing, and promptly fell to her knees. Nausea roiled and her head pounded so much she didn’t know if she was going to throw up or pass out. Then she was sure she’d throw up . . . and then she wasn’t. The nausea seeped out. She swallowed.
The sky was black. Utterly black, without a speck of starlight. The ground was glowing. So was the man embracing Malek . . . and so were the thoughts woven into everything. Absolutely everything. She looked around, awed. Sparkly, shimmering thoughts—roils of darkness—lavender struts and lace twining through tall black trunks that weren’t really trees, but massed thought. Great pillars of thought thrusting down deep into the stuff of this place and up to what passed for sky.
Motionless thought. Frozen. Thought was always in motion, yet the black tree-thoughts were utterly still. Yet they weren’t compulsions or remnants. She didn’t know what they were, but they disturbed her deeply.
All this while, Malek and the man—no, the god, for surely that was Dyffaya, even if he was using a human body—had been greeting each other, hugging, exchanging a lover’s kiss. She dragged her attention away from the not-trees and dialed down her Gift.
Or tried to. It didn’t work. Panicked, she tried again, but her Gift was so damn stimulated by this place she couldn’t make it respond. Or maybe her own fascination was the problem. The thoughts were so large and strange—
“My dear friend.” Dyffaya spoke with a resonance that drew her attention. “My loyal and faithful Malek.” He looked as he had in the enormous projection he’d sent to inform San Diego residents that they were to start worshiping him. Human, in other words, though as beautiful as any elf. The god—or the embodied portion of him, that is; the thoughts she saw everywhere didn’t originate with that body, but many of them were anchored in it—kept one arm around the small, tidy man who’d helped him abduct her. He patted the beaming Malek on the cheek. “You deserve so much more than a quick embrace. We will take time to be together, but just now I am pressed.”
“I understand, my lord.” Though he looked crestfallen.
Dyffaya gave him a last hug and released him. “You have done well, Malek. Very well. I am pleased with you. You may remain here to watch the last of the games, and after, we’ll have that time together. Just the two of us.”
Malek brightened.
“Take the path.” Dyffaya gestured and a path of pale stones appeared. “It will lead you to the game-place. There’s a seat reserved for you, my faithful one, at my left side. Go now. When I finish here, the game will begin.”
Malek hurried away. And the god turned to look at her. “Kai.” He smiled. It was a beautiful smile, warm and welcoming.
She realized she was still on her knees and managed to shove to her feet, though she wobbled a bit. Her head wasn’t getting any better.
“Eharin hurt you. I’m sorry for that.”
“Did you see her bash me over the head? She was sure you weren’t using her eyes later, after I woke up.”
He ignored that. “You are not at all happy to be here, but I am so happy to have you.”
Her Gift was tugging at her. Not now, she told it. “So I understand. You want me to become a binder.”
“So direct,” he murmured. “It is a common quality in my new people. I have not grown accustomed to it. I will, with time.”
Don’t piss off the god, she warned herself. She might have to in the end, but courtesy cost little and was important to elves. And Dyffaya was elf, even if he wasn’t portraying himself that way at the moment. “I’ve been at court, but I’m not good at the courtesy practiced there. Forgive me if I err. I have questions. Is it okay to ask them?”
“You may ask.”
“Why are those thoughts frozen?”
His brows shot up in startlement. “What thoughts?”
“The ones shaped like trees.”
“They are trees. Not precisely the same as those you are used to, yet still trees.”
He said that quite reasonably. And . . . he meant it. No pus green coated the thoughts anchored in that elegant body. And he was wrong. How could he be wrong? How could he not know?
He moved closer, still smiling in that warm, intimate way that made her want to step back. She held herself still, but it was an effort. “You don’t believe you’ll accept my offer. I understand that. I understand you better than you believe. You think I’m your enemy, but I’m not. It’s true that I don’t share your fascination with ‘good’ and ‘evil.’” His voice shaded those words in such a way as to make them sound like intellectual abstractions, of importance only to those interested in a particularly esoteric topic. “Yet if you accept my offer, you’ll be able to influence me more toward ‘good.’ You’ll help so many people, Kai, if you . . .” He stopped. Frowned. “I am also not accustomed to people looking away when I speak to them.”
She’d been studying the way thoughts both anchored Dyffaya’s body and were anchored in it, and had suddenly realized that his “body” was nothing more than an extremely complex intention. Startled by that realization, she’d tried to trace that intention where it vanished in the glowing ground. She ought to be able to see into the ground-stuff if she dialed her Gift up high enough, but so far . . . she dragged her gaze back to him. “My apologies. I’ve never been inside thoughts before, and these are so vast and fascinating. It’s distracting.”
He was silent a moment, then said, more to himself than to her, “I had not given sufficient consideration to what your odd form of mindhealing would mean here.”
Instinctively, she knew she didn’t want him to think about that too much. “I don’t know how to address you. There are so many forms I might use. Not being sidhe, I don’t understand all the nuances. I hope I haven’t shown disrespect by failing to use your proper title.”
“Titles are a bore. You may call me Dyffaya, as you and the others have been. I hope you will call me lord one day, but you are not yet ready for such a commitment.”
Again he brought out that smile, a claiming sort of smile, as if they already knew each other. A sexual smile, and yet the thoughts she saw everywhere weren’t sexual. They were . . . yearning. Oh. Oh, gods. She turned slowly, staring at the not-trees—the yearning in them! Endless, frozen yearning—eons of it, unchanging, incapable of change, their blackness a lack, a loss so profound—
A familiar and beloved sensation broke in upon her preoccupation. She gasped with delight as an ecstatic Dell raced out of those not-trees toward her. A moment later Kai went to her knees again, but on purpose this time, so she could put her arms around her familiar.
Dell purred madly, an expression of love she didn’t use often. She licked Kai’s face with her too-rough tongue, making Kai laugh. Oh, it was good to be close again! Even as she purred frantically, Dell sent a chiding thought about Kai allowing herself to be injured and her intention of fixing that.
“She is certainly happy to see you.”
Dell immediately sent a sense of warning and a complex gestalt that included Dyffaya’s jealousy, his neediness, and his belief that he’d tied Dell to him. Kai straightened and looked at the chameleon instead of simply reveling in her nearness. The shiny lavender beguilement she saw shocked her into stillness—but it wasn’t anchored. It looked dense, as if a great deal of power had been used, but it slid through Dell’s thoughts like oil, not affecting them. Kai could dislodge it with a single soft—
No, Dell sent sternly. Fool him.
Of course.
Kai sat back on her heels. “What have you done to her? She’s glad to see me, but she’s thinking of you.” True enough, though not in the sense she wanted Dyffaya to take it.
Dell promptly went to Dyffaya and rubbed her body along his leg and hip. As she did, she sent Kai instructions in a complex gestalt. Kai frowned, unpacking them. “She . . . she wants me to tell you it’s good that you brought me here, and that the bond is much eased now, with me closer.”
Dyffaya caressed Dell’s head with one hand. “Your familiar and I have grown fond of each other. Does that surprise you? I don’t mind sharing her with you,” he said generously—and that was a whopper. He minded very much. “I hope you won’t feel badly about sharing her with me.”
“You’ve said you weren’t accustomed to some of my ways. I’m not used to—to Dell being attached to someone else. Some people amuse her, like Cullen, but . . . I’ll get used to it.” She let herself sound grumpy about it.
Dell had been right. Her grumpiness pleased Dyffaya because he took it as an acknowledgement of his bond with Dell. Did he not see a difference between beguilement and real affection? He gave the chameleon’s ears a last rub. “I don’t mind sharing,” he repeated, and it was still a lie, but less virulently so.
“Then maybe you’ll allow her to do something about my head. It hurts.”
“Of course.” He gave a gentle wave.
Dell came and sat in front of Kai. Again she sent a gestalt bundle, but this one was so dense and layered Kai couldn’t unpack it. She recognized the scent-sight-emotion blend that meant Nathan—who was alive and well. She got that much. She thought the blended sense of strong-male-blood-gift—which arrived with the flavor of the blood and a distinct scent—was Benedict, and Funny One was Cullen, both of whom were alive, thank God. But there was something about the male chameleons and . . . a plan? Something about the future, anyway. Those parts of the gestalt lacked scent, which was how Dell thought of the future. A time that hadn’t happened yet had no smell. But she couldn’t untangle things enough to be sure.
Dell huffed once and gave up. Dots him, she sent, along with a mingling that meant pride-not-earned and a familiar instruction. Dell wanted Kai to keep Dyffaya talking—bragging?—while she fixed Kai’s head.
Okay. Kai sat down with her back against Dell’s side. It didn’t matter where they touched, only that they did. “The male chameleons,” she said abruptly. “I wondered why I’d been able to break that link, but if it was Eharin controlling them instead of you . . . but Nettie was sure she sensed you.”
He shrugged and settled onto the ground with her, sitting cross-legged. “I used the link, but Eharin set it. Which is, as you say, why you were able to break it. She was never as good as she believed herself to be. She certainly lacked your power, and how she resented that, poor dear! She was so greedy for power. But also, though she would not have admitted this, she was not as good as you will become. More skillful than you are now, yes, but don’t worry. At this point, your raw power will serve me better than finicking delicacy.”
Kai’s head seemed to be vibrating. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it would get that way. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Why, make worshipers for me.” He smiled at her gently. “Nothing as terrible as you’d imagined, is it? You’ll be able to return to your world and live much as you like. Eventually you may not be needed. It depends on how long you live.”
“Ah . . . it does?”
“Once I can go there myself, I expect finding worshipers won’t be a problem.” The thoughts around him glowed brighter. That was a happy idea.
“I was told you couldn’t enter Earth.”
“Not now, no.” The glow dimmed. “Eventually, I will. It will take time. I haven’t yet managed to make the necessary adjustments to a mortal body. I suspect it will take just the right body, and when the time comes, I may need your assistance to . . . but that’s all well in the future. I hadn’t planned to go into it with you yet. Where was I? Oh, yes. Your duties won’t be onerous. You won’t have to handle any of the organizing—others will deal with that—only be present at services so you can influence the thoughts of those present. I’ll let you know which ones I want you to make into my worshipers.”
That’s all she had to do—remake people’s thoughts so they worshiped a mad god while he looked for “just the right body” to take over. That’s what he meant, wasn’t it? He hoped to find or make an avatar. Kai spoke through dry lips. “I thought you were only fed by true, heartfelt worship, such as Malek offers.”
“That’s the beauty of using a binder. It’s not like compulsion. After you’re through with them, the chosen ones will genuinely worship me. Your influence—that’s another ability of binders, dear Kai, though I’m sure Eharin didn’t teach it to you. You’ll catch on quickly, though, I’m sure. You can influence thoughts of those around you in a temporary way, as well as making permanent changes. Your influence will draw many to return to services until their hearts open to me, even without you altering them. Eharin had been doing this, but she had so little power. She could only influence a few at a time, and making even one genuine worshiper left her depleted for days. I could and did feed her power for other things, but for some reason she couldn’t use it to fuel her Gift. Odd, isn’t it?”
The vibrating was reaching a peak. “Yes. I don’t understand that.” Any of it.
“Still, she did her best. Had she remained faithful, she would have always had a place with me, even though she was never fully mine. But she wasn’t as stupid as my loyal Malek believes. She knew why I wanted you and, little though she might have admitted it, she knew you would become much more important to me than she was. She couldn’t stand that.” He sighed. “Poor thing. I’ll miss her.”
He meant it. Kai closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see how horrified she was. The vibration crescendoed and popped, much like the pop when a swimmer’s ears suddenly clear of water.
“You don’t like the idea.”
Her head felt fantastic. She sent Dell a wave of gratitude and reluctantly opened her eyes. “Making people worship you takes away their free will.”
Abruptly the thoughts around him darkened—a darkness that spiraled out, churning the air into ominous patterns, as foreboding as a thunderstorm about to hit. “We were wrong about that.”
“Uh—who was?”
He waved impatiently. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter. The point is, free will doesn’t matter as much as happiness. You have it in your Bill of Rights—that people are entitled to pursue happiness. My worshipers will be happy. They won’t have to pursue it because I will give it to them. I’m good at that.”
He would compel them to be happy. Beguile them into it.
He was insane.
Kai had known that. He was the god of insanity, after all, as well as the god of chaos. But now she saw it. The darker the patterns grew, the more clearly she saw their distortion, what should have been beauty twisted into grotesquery.
Her Gift tugged at her again. Tugged hard.
A sidhe phrase ran through her mind—behi’yeli absore né: the mad gods laughed. She understood that phrase with a new and terrible acuity. Her Gift wanted to heal the mad god. Heal a mind a thousand times more vast and complex and powerful than her own. A mind that her Gift insisted could not heal itself.
Dyffaya was speaking. Kai hadn’t heard a word he said. “I’m . . . please excuse me. I’m overwhelmed.” Deeply true.
“Also reluctant,” he said dryly. The darkness thinned. “Ah, well. I knew you would be.” This smile was sly. “You haven’t asked about Nathan.”
“Dell assured me he was alive and well.”
“She is right—at the moment.” He sprang to his feet. “Time to go. Take the path I created for Malek. When we meet again, I’ll show you why you’ll do as I wish, however reluctant you may feel now.”
The go
d vanished. His body did, anyway, as his intention was withdrawn, and most of the thoughts that had been anchored in it slipped away. After a moment’s hesitation—and a nudge from Dell—Kai did as she’d been told.
The pebbled path led through the tall trunks of the not-trees. On impulse, Kai stopped and laid one hand on what felt to her skin like smooth bark. She saw—but her Gift leaped up and swamped her before she could begin to process what she saw, nearly pulling her into fugue. She jerked her hand back and dialed down her Gift and the imperative died back . . . some. Not entirely.
Shaken, she proceeded slowly down the path. And as Dell walked beside her, she sent a sense of agreement and: No-blood-no-scent stuck. Broken. Bad-sad-stuck. Fix.
Kai looked at Dell, surprised. No-blood-no-scent was clearly Dyffaya. What startled her was Dell’s effort to use words—and the emotion accompanying them. That wasn’t pity as Kai experienced it, but it was similar, a strong and pungent emotion, and not one Dell felt often. Kai looked closely at her familiar’s thoughts, wondering if the beguilement was affecting her after all. It wasn’t.
You fix. Nathan kill.
Again she sent words, even using Nathan’s name. That effort meant this was important to Dell. Oddly, the fixing and killing were linked in Dell’s mind, not opposed. Kai sent a sense of questioning.
Dell replied with a dense gestalt. Parts of it were too alien to register properly; that was often the case when a lot of memories were involved. Kai had long since concluded that the chameleon experienced memory very differently than she did. But she had the sense that Dell had been expecting Kai’s arrival, with that expectation connected to Dell’s ability to fool No-blood-no-scent. Dell had—overheard? Yes. Apparently Dyffaya believed Dell wasn’t sentient, so he hadn’t guarded his words around her.
Kai did her best to assemble a thought-stream. It was nothing like the complex ones Dell sent, but closer to Dell’s “language” than words would be. She sent an impression of the vastness of the god’s mind, its complexity, and how much power would be involved in changing any of it.