Briefly, Adam wondered if these were true mother-father pairings, and shook his head. Loki, hours ago, had been amused because human conceptions of lineage were only tangentially important to the gods.
Mercury’s eyes had narrowed. And you mean to turn the messenger of Jupiter back against the hand that sent him?
Prometheus’ gaze remained steady. You do not like being used so, do you, nephew? You have been sent to do murder in Nahautl and Quecha, and then you were sent here, to Judea. What was your plan? Kill the mortal lover, and assume his guise, thinking that if Sigrun Stormborn could not see his spirit—as you disguised yourself and your essence—that she would see nothing amiss. He is, after all, bound to the god of Abraham, and a void to most eyes like ours.
Mercury’s eyes flicked towards Adam. That was my intention, he confirmed, and Adam’s hands tightened on Caliburn, hearing his own death so casually defined. And it might even have worked, but for Prometheus’ warning, he thought, grimly. Sig wouldn’t have told me she was an . . . entity. I’d have died. But Sigrun can see my spirit . . . when she uses her othersight, anyway.
Ah, but therein lies the problem with your plan, Loki said, apparently coalescing beside Adam. Stormborn sees her mortal lover very well, and always has. She would not have been deceived. And while I would have given much to have been a witness to that fight, it would be a waste of effort and power on all parts. We of Valhalla will not allow you to destroy our Naglfar. Loki shook his head. Or any of the rest of us. You may come at us again and again, but I can tell you now, that if you kill one of us, we will kill three of you. And then where will it end after that, but in the destruction of all of us?
Mercury’s eyes darted back and forth. I am listening, he finally replied, folding his arms across his chest. But I cannot conceive of anything that would induce me to strike out at Zeus or Jupiter. I love existence too much to embrace oblivion for your sakes. A sardonic smile curled up one side of his mouth.
He’s like Kanmi. Jaded by the failures of all those around him, Adam thought. He thinks that people—and gods!—should be better than they are. And they inevitably let him down.
Prometheus nodded. Striking directly at Jupiter would indeed be suicide, though you might have managed it while you still held the power of either Tohil or Xipe Totec. His tone was brutally honest. I calculate a sixty-three percent probability that you might have had the power to manage a coup when suffused with the power of either of these major gods. Though, naturally, the rest of Olympus would have united against you in that moment.
Mercury closed his eyes for a moment, and Adam couldn’t read the expression there—anguish, maybe, or frustration. Resignation, though, after the first flicker of emotion passed. Go on.
You cannot kill Jupiter alone. But you can kill Zeus. Easily. All his power is but a shadow of Jupiter’s now. He had but twenty, perhaps thirty million direct worshippers before the devastation of Hellas. Now? Fewer than that. Millions died when Baal-Hamon did. Many of those who have retained or regained their sanity have turned their worship to Saraid, the lady of the wilds. Prometheus’ tone was detached.
Loki snickered. Did you not boast of a billion worshippers when you came to Valhalla, messenger?
I said that Jupiter could count that many worshippers, not I. Mercury’s tone was cool.
And yet, you are one of the most beloved gods in the Roman pantheon, Prometheus said, quietly. Everyone who has a business meeting, or brokers a corporate merger, invokes you. Your statue stands in the lobby of every bank. If two sales associates go out to lunch, they toast each other in your name. You bridge the gaps between different faiths, Hermes. You are the merchant’s friend. You are the magician. The messenger. The trickster. The escort of the dead. And more than that.
Mercury shook his head, sharply. That all says that I could do it . . . but not why. Why would I do such a thing, Prometheus? Why would I kill my own father?
Adam was uneasy. They were discussing the slaying of a god—a planned, pre-meditated assassination—in his living room. This was probably not a good course of action. “It’s a fair question,” he put in, quietly. “My understanding was that we were going to talk to you about calling off the hit of Sig, and just taking refuge here in Judea.” He gave Prometheus and Loki dark looks. “This seems to be against the honor of Valhalla.”
Loki shook his head. Valhalla stays out of the politics of the Hellene pantheon, Steelsoul. This is between Prometheus and Mercury. He folded his arms across his chest. If we were to participate in such an activity, it would indeed be against the honor of Tyr, Thor, and Odin, not to mention Heimdall and Freyr. A cynical smile twisted the corners of his mouth. Why else do they keep me around, but to do the things that they cannot do, to think forbidden thoughts? We have been pushed to the brink of war by Jupiter. We never agreed to give up our right to defend our people, or our allies. And we will not sacrifice one of our own to save Rome’s face. His eyes glittered for a moment. Giving our support to an attack on Zeus would demonstrate that the alliance is at an end. It would be a final step, an irrevocable one, and would tell Rome that we will not permit our own to be attacked. And that such an attack will garner retaliation. He turned to Prometheus. Forgive me. Continue.
Prometheus’ smile was positively wicked as he turned back towards Mercury. Why should you commit patricide? For that most Hellene of reasons. To avenge your mother. And if not to avenge her, then to avenge yourself.
Adam was at sea in all of this, but he could see that the words hit Mercury like a slap. Prometheus glanced over at Adam. When the Olympians rose to power, most of the titans who surrendered, did so under their terms. They took seven sisters, known to humans as the Pleiades, as concubines. Distributed them, as human men did at the time, this woman to whichever soldier took a fancy to her. Maia was given to Zeus, not as a wife, but so that he could assert his right of conquest on one of our own. You laughed at civilization, Hermes. And this is why.
And did you object, Prometheus? You who fought for Zeus? For all you speak of kinship, you turned on your own kin, the titans, once upon a time. Mercury’s voice was surprisingly bitter.
You know that I spoke against it to Zeus, son of Maia. I supported his cause, because the Olympians were slightly more kindly than my titan kin. More in tune with the mortal realm. And Cronus had become a devourer, even as he touched the face of time. Prometheus looked away. But yes, I objected to seeing my nieces raped. Humans prettied the legend later, of course.
They always do. Loki’s tone was sardonic.
They said that Zeus was Maia’s lover, stealing into her cave where she hid, far from all the Olympians, and begot on her a child, so that Hera’s jealousy would not fall on her. Of course it wasn’t rape. Prometheus’ tone was mordant now.
Because a goddess who hides away from others must actually desire great Zeus’ seed. Loki’s voice matched Prometheus’. I have heard this tale too often.
And yet, Prometheus went on, what mortal speaks of her, once her son was born? Once the trickster who stole and sacrificed Apollo’s oxen and invented the lyre appears, she vanishes. For the mortals, her purpose had been served! Prometheus waved his hands, dismissively. Where is Maia now? She is not the Roman goddess of Spring. Where, oh where, is my poor niece?
Adam forced away an unpleasant flashback to Sigrun carrying Sophia’s ravaged body home after the centaur’s attack. “She died in childbirth? Can that happen to an . . . entity?”
Prometheus raised a finger. We can combine our essences. Split off a fraction of ourselves, and mingle it with a fraction of another. Zeus gave a piece of himself . . . and Maia, our bright and shining star, was so shamed at being forced, that she put all of herself into the offspring.
Adam struggled to do the mental math. “Hermes is Maia?” he finally said, stunned.
I am not! That was a roar in his mind as Mercury came off the wall, power crackling off of him almost tangibly. That was not me. I am not her. I am myself, and no other!
Of c
ourse you are, Loki said, leaning against a wall, the picture of insouciance. Fenris is Fenris, not me. You have your own identity. Your own memories . . . . Mercury turned his face aside, and Loki smiled. Ah. You have her memories, too, don’t you?
Mercury’s hand fell to his sword’s hilt again, power coruscating around him. The potential for violence was thick in the air, and Adam was desperately trying to keep up. Mercury was male. At least, as male as any spirit actually was, and he was having the essence of his identity challenged. They are not my memories, he finally answered, dully.
At least as one of Zeus’ sons, you were safer, in that regard, Prometheus said, compassionately. He raped his own daughter, Persephone, and begot children on her, before permitting her to be kidnapped and raped by Hades. But he allowed Artemis and Athena to remain free. But you couldn’t take the chance of being another Persephone, just to be taken, as mother-self had been, before you. And he gave you latitude, as a son, so long as you amused him. So you hid, and learned to hide even your thoughts. Zeus and Jupiter cannot hear you, I believe.
Zeus could never hear me. I believe Jupiter cannot, either. Mercury’s confirmation was sullen.
Avenge Maia, Prometheus urged. Avenge yourself. And free yourself from this vile compact.
Mercury slowly raised his eyes, and Adam could read humiliation there, and couldn’t even begin to fathom the depths of it. What would it be like, to be the child, born of a rape, but to have the memories of that conception, from the mother’s point of view? How could any child of that union not see the father as a monster? How could they not see the father without seeing him through the mother’s eyes, remembering the moment of violation as if it were their own? Adam wasn’t even sure if it would be worse for a male offspring, or a female. Either seemed . . . horrific.
If I were to do this thing, Mercury said, deliberately, would the probability of success—and by success, I mean ‘my own survival’—be increased by drawing Zeus away from Jupiter?
“How would you even do that?” Adam asked. The words sounded loud in the room, and he snapped his jaw shut in vexation.
I could tell Zeus that Stormborn is dead, and offer him her power, Mercury replied, remotely. Jupiter keeps him starveling, for all that he’s permitted to pursue his amours. He is wiser than Zeus by far. A flash of fear. Jupiter will pursue me forever. The Veil will be closed to me.
Not so. Valhalla will be open to you. Loki’s head tipped to the side. Odin authorizes me to make you an offer of asylum, should you choose to leave Olympus. He glanced at Prometheus. You and Hecate are also welcome to enter Valhalla, for as long as it stands.
It will stand forever, for once a thing exists in the Veil . . . it has always existed. And ever shall. But a day may come when it stands empty of all but your echoes and intimations. Prometheus looked at Mercury. The probability of success with such a subterfuge goes up dramatically; you will need to be very convincing, however. I would recommend fighting a mad godling, so that you are rife with power when you make your address to Zeus. Be a tempting target.
Adam cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I . . . really hate to be the one to point this out. But . . . aren’t we more or less setting him up to be a target for . . . .” He hesitated. He didn’t want to use the word rape. The term didn’t really pertain, and people tended to overuse it. But still, what they were suggesting here did sound like it had the potential for violation.
Yes. Loki’s tone was succinct. Exactly so. The eclipse-silver eyes were distant as he studied Mercury. There are places of refuge for you. There are ways to mitigate the risk of Jupiter’s awareness, or involvement. While I cannot intervene in such a Hellene matter, I might recommend arranging to meet with him on one of the Hellene islands. That nation is already heavily damaged anyway, with Sparta and Athens as the only large hold-out communities. Any spillover of Zeus’ power that you and the surrounding seawater are unable to contain will cause minimal disruption to people and landscape there.
Agreed, Prometheus said. Alternately, take with you someone whom you would trust to absorb that kind of power. One of your own god-born, perhaps.
You do not recommend yourselves, I see. Mercury’s tone was, again, cynical.
I would not necessarily object to an infusion of power, Loki replied, showing his teeth in a fox-like grin, But again, Valhalla does not interfere in the internal affairs of Olympus. He shrugged. Also, I am already suffused with more power than I expected, as the focus of this cult of the Sacrificed God. It has changed my nature already sufficiently that I sometimes do not recognize myself. I do not want any of Zeus’ power. I have no desire to begin hurling thunderbolts around, or making windy, pompous speeches from atop mountains. He made a flicking gesture, shooing the notion away. Aside from which, you would be right to distrust either of us there. No. Take Hecate. Loki’s eyes gleamed. She is a member of the Hellene pantheon, which keeps it internal. She suffered greatly defending your people, when all of Olympus stood aside. And she hates Zeus almost as much as you and Prometheus do.
Probability of success-with-survival-and-escape increases to almost eight-seven percent with the Lady of the Crossroads along with you, Prometheus agreed, his expression brightening. Between your speed and her portals, escape is much more likely.
Mercury hesitated, clearly revolving the notion around in his mind. I would require some assistance in obtaining the essence of one of the mad godlings, he said, cautiously. I attack from stealth. I am not a war-god.
You might have assistance in this, Loki replied. We will not permit you to be alone with either Fenris or Sigrun Stormborn, but Tyr and I could take you to where a godling has been spotted off the coast of Iceland. You may bring Hecate or Prometheus with you, for your surety. This godling is swollen with power, like a tick bloated with blood. Enough, I think, for you to siphon off, and make to look as if Sigrun died over the northern seas. He bared his teeth. She and Niðhoggr will make it look quite convincing, and I will arrange for any major illusions needed to deceive prying eyes, like the Graiae.
And yet you do not interfere with the internal politics of Olympus. Mercury’s tone was a lash.
I am creating the perception that a member of my pantheon, who is under threat of attack, is already dead. I do not interfere, so much as I protect my own. Loki’s fox-like grin reappeared. Hellenes are not the only sophists, you see? I excel at such.
Mercury looked down. I assume you will not allow me to leave, unless I agree. Still, hesitation.
I will require your binding oath, either to this cause, or to your silence, Prometheus agreed.
Adam wanted to ask how they could trust the trickster’s word, but Mercury had already looked back up again, a decision reached. I swear by the Styx, that I will kill Zeus. May I be unNamed and dissolved, cast out of all creation, if I am forsworn in this effort. I bind myself to you and this cause with the energies within me, and let them be severed from me if I betray it.
There was a surge of energy between the three of them, and then Mercury bowed his head . . . and vanished. Adam exhaled, and Caliburn returned to its more usual guise as a semi-automatic Vheva handgun. He looked at Prometheus and Loki, feeling a chill run through him. “This is not going to improve matters,” he told them. “This will turn Rome’s gods solidly against you.”
Prometheus shrugged. Rome’s gods were already against me, because the Hellene ones were. Or would be, if they realized I yet live. Zeus’ death will weaken Jupiter, but he could still stand and fight the mad gods, if he so chose. The question is, will he choose to do so? If everything remains as it is, currently, I do not see him leaving the Italian peninsula to fight, at all. This may rouse Olympus out of its torpor . . . though the probability that they will turn and fight Valhalla directly is solidly at forty-eight percent.
Which is why our hands must remain clean of this mess, Loki said. So that Odin may reply, with honor, that he did not arrange for the attack, but that he applauds Mercury for doing what every Goth may do: to refuse the order of a
bad king, and work to depose him. A smirk, but Loki’s heart clearly wasn’t in it. Rome has required us to bow and sacrifice, he went on, his tone grim. This is our reply: they may go and join Hel in the oblivion that my lost daughter has found. A note of fleeting sorrow and regret in his voice. We would have preferred to work alongside Rome to protect all our lands, but they would not permit it. No crossing into their borders. No risk that people might come to believe in us, more than in them. So we abandon the Alps. Let them protect their people from the ettin and the grendels. Let them protect their people from the mad godlings. We and Gaul will protect each other, and any others who would ally with us. And hope that it will be enough.
Adam closed his eyes. “Very well,” he replied, still feeling unaccountably as if he were covered in blood, and needed a shower. “So if you’re already damned, you may as well deserve it?”
Prometheus nodded. Precisely so.
On Iulius 4, 1993 AC, representatives among the Gothic refugees, and the elected officials of Germania, Gaul, Novo Gaul, and Nova Germania all voted and agreed to leave the Roman Empire. Persia hailed this as a landmark decision, and immediately extended diplomatic recognition to the new countries of Gaul, Iberia, Novo Gaul, Britannia, Caledonia, Germania, and Nova Germania. Qin was slower to extend similar recognition; the embattled Qin government was swamped by millions of internal refugees, being pushed here and there by mad god attacks. The Mongol Khanate and India, for their part, did not extend formal recognition, but very cautiously commended the new alliance of nations on their peaceful break from Rome.
The Goddess Embraced (The Saga of Edda-Earth Book 3) Page 68