"Then you are not all-powerful?" Kochanski asked softly.
"Who is?" Jartan replied.
Kochanski was stunned. Intellectually he pondered the sometimes illogical nature of his own religion. But with one comment Jartan had pulled out all the props, the mooring points which had been common to almost every belief he had ever encountered. No one was all-powerful; they were all in this game together, but no one was running it.
"You seem a little shaken." Jartan reached out and touched Kochanski on the arm.
"It's just... well, it's just that you've told me there is no father, no guide, no supreme arbitrator or judge."
"Your god claims that distinction?"
Kochanski nodded.
"Such things are what a child needs, Kochanski. A child needs to know that someone decides what's right or wrong, and will punish or reward. But when you become an adult your parents should no longer do that for you. If a parent does attempt to think for his child, then he is stealing life itself from him. Finally, a parent should be an advisor, not a judge, and so too with a god. I'm merely saying to you that in the realm of the universe, Kochanski, you are an adult."
Kochanski smiled weakly. It would take some getting used to.
"Then, what can a god do?" he asked.
"For one thing, I can not create or unmake you. You are as eternal as I, in your own way. You've heard my son speak of the Essence?"
Kochanski nodded.
"It's a crude word to describe what words cannot describe, but it is good enough. The Essence, or what some might call energy, is the fabric that holds everything together. It is the very fabric of time, forever coiling in upon itself, forever renewing."
"Our textbooks say that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but used again and again in some form or another."
"Exactly."
Kochanski settled back in his seat. He looked at his empty glass of Schaefer and gestured to Jartan. The god laughed, snapped his fingers, and as if pouring from an invisible pitcher of beer refilled the glass.
"If only the guys back at the club in Trenton could see that," Kochanski said, raising his glass again in a salute.
"There are questions that I wish to ask, as well," Jartan said, "so let us finish this. As I was saying, the Essence is the power. Quite simply, a god is someone who can control it completely. Thus it was that ages ago, I, along with those who became my brothers and sisters, eight of us in all, combined our Essence and broke through the barrier out of the Great Void and into this universe. When we mastered our powers, we chose this world and shaped it, made it into the Haven you see now. In the shaping of it, our own Essence became part of the very fabric of the world."
"In time, we brought others like you here, to play out the dramas of their existence. We as gods can thus interact with them. At times we have walked among them, played in their lives, fought their wars, loved, lived, hated, and even died."
"Died?"
"Yes, even a god may die. Oh, he is not destroyed, but his spirit goes back into the Sea of Chaos, the Great Void, to wander through the emptiness and begin again. Such partings are bitter," Jartan said sadly, "for loved ones are lost forever in this life, though if one tries they can be reunited in another reality, vaguely knowing that they have loved each other before." Jartan seemed lost in a melancholy darkness. At last he roused himself, looked down at his companion, and smiled.
"Even a god can know sadness and remorse."
"I've heard the War of the Gods mentioned several times," Kochanski asked quietly. "Am I allowed to ask about that?"
Jartan hesitated. "It's still painful, but yes, it is something you should know, since the repercussions are still being felt today. The god Horat was always the most driven of the Creators, and as eons went by, he became obsessed with ruling not just his region, but all of Haven."
"Finally, he met with our brother Bore over some border dispute. Bore was tricked and betrayed into lowering his defense." Jartan paused. "Horat then murdered and devoured our brother."
"Devoured?" gasped Kochanski.
"Not the flesh, but the Essence. He sent Bore back to the Great Void an empty husk."
"Of course all of the Creators knew instantly, for we felt Bore's agony."
Jartan was silent for a few moments.
"The rest of us banded together and made war on our insane brother. The conflict took years, killed untold millions, and sent most of his region back into the sea. The final confrontation cost my brother Danar his life as he saved mine. We finally were able to drain away Horat's Essence and send him back to Chaos."
"That was three thousand years ago, but the pain is still fresh, the hatreds are still just below the surface. Sarnak the Accursed fought in that war and was instrumental in Bore's betrayal. But in the settlement treaty Sarnak's life was spared in exchange for prisoners. Sarnak is a grandson of Horat, while Tor is the last surviving son. Those two have not forgotten, nor have I nor my kin."
Kochanski felt it best to leave that topic untouched for now. "Pina told us that you've placed a genetic block in humans against using the Essence. Why?"
"We brought humans into this reality eons ago for companionship and as subjects," Jartan said, his features relaxing with the change of topic. "At that time we thought it was heresy for mortals to dare to use our Essence, so we changed them. But over the years our children, and then their children, spread and interbred, and we decided to ignore it. My last census showed almost one in every milion will be a sorcerer, and that's up from just a thousand years ago."
Jartan could see Kochanski running figures through his mind, and continued, "From what I can gather it seems your god has left your reality and took most, if not all, of his Essence with him. Do you have sorcerers at all on your world?"
Kochanski reflected for a moment. "We have legends from our ancient times, and occasional unexplained phenomena, but no sorcerers."
"Precisely. Your god obviously took it with him when he left, or held all the Essence to himself in jealousy, and had no reason to change your ancestors."
"And when we came here we could naturally use the Essence," Kochanski finished, his aura glowing brightly. He was happy here, with powers that he could only have dreamed about before.
A moment later his aura dimmed to nothing. It had occurred to him that if they ever did find their way back to Earth, they would automatically lose their powers.
Jartan nodded. "The bitter with the sweet," he said softly, as be watched Kochanski staring gloomily at the floor and muttering to himself. Some of Kochanski's cursing is truly imaginative, he thought.
"You are depressing yourself over something that may never happen, Kochanski. Haven't you been listening? You have all eternity and life after life to live and enjoy."
"So in a way the Japanese are right after all."
"I don't know about that," Jartan said, "but if you've been taught that you only have one go around, then you have been misled."
Kochanski found himself laughing. The full implications of all that he had just heard were beyond comprehension.
Draining off his beer, Kochanski held up his glass for another, which was instantly produced. Why, this was even better than his kid brother fetching beers for him back home. Taking a sip, he settled back in his chair, looked up at Jartan, and smiled.
"Now it's my turn," Jartan said, smiling back. "Tell me about your god and his realm."
"Have I got a story for you," Kochanski said, trying to keep a straight face while debating whether he should provide the Catholic, Fundamentalist, or Jehovah's Witness version of reality.
* * * *
Mark felt like he had been on a roller coaster for hours. Storm was the most beautiful female he had ever seen, much less picked up! Only who had picked up whom? Back where he came from it was the guys who were supposed to be doing that. This independence of women was confusing him.
He felt a nudge at his elbow and turned to see Ikawa's admiring grin. "Brought you another drink, Mark. Althoug
h I never saw a man who needed one less. You look like a kid getting set to unwrap a present. I must say your behavior is almost adolescent."
Mark glanced at Storm again. "She is stunning, isn't she?"
Storm turned from Allic to stare directly into Mark's eyes and smile.
Again Mark felt a current running through his body, like an electric shock. If I don't get laid tonight, he thought wickedly, sensing that she might be tapping into his thoughts, I'm going to need a wheelbarrow to haul it around with tomorrow.
His musings were interrupted by Ikawa's chuckle, as he looked over towards Kochanski, who was coming up to join them.
"You Americans and your courtship rituals," Ikawa said.
"For the last couple of hours your captain and that young lady over there have been doing nothing but staring at each other, and thinking heaven knows what. I remember attending dances in your country where whole roomfuls of people would be engaged thus." And all three smiled, Mark a tad ruefully.
"Weren't you supposed to have a private meeting with Jartan?" Mark asked Kochanski.
"Yup. Just got back. You wouldn't believe me if I told you, so I'll just say it was incredible."
"Did you keep your mouth shut?"
"Hardly, Captain. I started the conversation off by telling him I couldn't believe he was a god."
"You're kidding me?" Mark groaned.
"Nope."
Mark and Ikawa darted glances at one another, not sure if they would kill him now or later.
"Not believing around here is very dangerous, Sergeant," Ikawa said, not wanting to cross too far into disciplining one of Mark's people. "Please refrain from such idiocy in my presence, as I will be sorry to see you go. But I would be even more upset if I was blasted because I was merely standing near you."
Kochanski smiled at him as if he was part of some wonderful private joke.
He's definitely cracked, Mark thought, but this isn't the place to kick his butt.
"How about we find a John," Mark temporized, as he put his empty glass on a passing servant's tray and grabbed a full one. As they moved away he smiled at Storm and got a glance that sent another shiver down his spine.
Kochanski rolled his eyes at Ikawa as they walked toward the door. "I think you're right. Reminds me of when I was in the eighth grade."
As the three offworlders walked back into the room ten minutes later, they paused once again at the magnificence of the vast domed chamber which soared half a thousand feet into the air. Mark looked for Storm but she was gone.
"Can you really believe that we're part of this?" Kochanski muttered. "My old man works in the Trenton gashouse. To him a high class night was knocking down beers at the Democratic Club, or when he got to dress up for the Knights of Columbus polka dance. And here his son hangs around with gods and has powers that would seem near godlike back on Earth."
"Considering all we've learned about the various power blocks, guilds, black sorcerers, and demons," Ikawa replied cautiously, "we're like innocent children in a Byzantine court, too ignorant to know our danger."
"Quite right, Captain Ikawa," Kochanski replied, still smiling, "but three months back any insurance agent would have said my life would be up after twenty missions. I bet the odds for your people fighting in China weren't much better. I can handle the odds here after that, and I'll be damn sure to be a fast learner."
"Anyway, Mark," Kochanski whispered, leaning closer, "tell me about Storm. Looks like you two have got something going!"
Mark shook his head. "God, I hope so. I've never been so horny in my life."
As he finished speaking, be noticed that one of the pillars of light around the walls of the chamber had suddenly shifted in intensity and was now coming straight towards them.
"Jesus Christ, it's Jartan," Kochanski said, his voice edged with fear.
Mark tried to stay calm as the column came rushing at them.
"He must have overheard us," Kochanski said, drawing back.
Mark could see a figure in the light as it drew closer, much too close for comfort. Jartan extended his arms and the pillar spread to include not only Mark but also Ikawa and Kochanski in the light, shutting out the rest of the room. By squinting, Mark could see a brightly glowing figure with luminous eyes, fluid and graceful as the wind.
A voice appeared in their minds. *I seek him who speaks with the intent to defile a demigoddess!*
It took all of Mark's self-control to keep from pointing at Kochanski and saying, Him, him, he's the one who made me say it.
A quick glance at Kochanski showed a person seemingly in shock, incapable of response. Mark mustered his courage and replied, "Great god Jartan, we are new to your world and have not adapted totally yet. Please understand."
The light grew immeasurably brighter, forcing their eyes shut, as a world-consuming voice shouted with laughter. Suddenly the light was gone, and they were in a comfortable drawing room with Allic and another being who was still in the column of light. Chuckling, Jartan let his form coalesce, so that Mark saw a brilliant humanlike pattern of light. Jartan settled into a chair next to a blazing fireplace.
"Very good, Kochanski," Jartan rumbled. "Your little prank went very well."
Mark and Ikawa looked at Kochanski, whose smirk vanished instantly.
"Come on, Captain. He said he wanted to talk to you guys. We both knew you were a little interested in Storm, and, well..."
"You're dead meat, Kochanski." And Ikawa snarled in agreement.
Jartan and Allic started laughing again.
"Come over and drink some of Kochanski's beer," Jartan said good-naturedly, pleased at the way his joke had turned out. "I want to get more information about your world, Mark. Kochanski tells me that you are the one to ask about why your sexual customs have evolved as they have."
Mark closed his eyes and vowed to get even with Kochanski if it killed him.
An hour and a half later Mark was watching in amazement as Kochanski downed his drink and launched a verbal attack on Jartan's last statement regarding government's role in society. How could anyone be that resilient?
One of Jartan's pet demons deftly refilled their glasses, then stirred and replenished the fire. The perfect butler, Mark thought, except he's the size of truck. Then, as Jartan smiled and prepared a crushing counter to Kochanski's latest sally, Mark sensed something on the fringe of his mind. He half raised his hand before remembering where he was. Jartan, ever-perceptive, nodded and snapped his fingers.
Storm appeared through a side door. With a cheerful nod she acknowledged Mark and then slipped over to a couch and reclined gracefully while accepting a glass of brandy from a bowing demon.
"How goes the party?" Jartan inquired.
"Frightfully boring," came the reply. "And ten days to go of this. I know it's important, but there are times when the petty arguments drive me near to distraction." She paused and looked at Mark.
"Well, Father," she said softly, "how well do you think the two of us are matched?"
Father and daughter turned to study Mark, their eyes glowing.
Damn it. Mark tried to control his thoughts. This was worse than any damned date where the father would give him that I-know-what-you-want-to-do-with-my-daughter look.
He felt anger growing. They were looking at him as though he was only the latest amusement to be examined.
For a moment Mark wrestled to control his mounting rage. The hell with it, he decided, and if she doesn't like it, the hell with her too.
Jartan nodded in acknowledgment and lowered his gaze.
"My apologies, Captain Phillips. Again you have shown me that you are a man of courage and pride. So often the men who approach my daughter conceal their true intent, which is only political advancement. You strike me as a man with too much pride for that type of concern."
Storm gave him a glowing smile, sensing his anger. "Will you walk with me this evening?" she asked, almost shyly.
Mark forced his gaze to the floor. He wanted to go with her
, but he'd be damned if he was going to be mesmerized, or probed again, or anything else that had to do with powers and magic.
"You two mind if I leave you guys for a while?" Mark asked, looking at Ikawa and Kochanski.
"Christ, I should be so lucky," Kochanski mumbled, nodding.
Mark stood and held his hand out to Storm. Turning, they left the room.
Jartan was quietly studying the reaction of the two friends left behind and noted that where Kochanski merely shook his head with a feeling of friendly envy, Ikawa was in a profound depression. Perhaps he should also have someone of his own. He could see that honor was the driving force within Ikawa, but a tie to Haven would make him stronger and happier. An instant later, Jartan knew.
Mark could feel the desire burning in them both as they walked through the gardens to her rooms. He almost felt as though there were an actual current running through the air, ready to strike off sparks.
His mind was a maelstrom of emotions. At the same time he was receiving a direct flow from Storm through their clasped hands, and it was a match for his.
The moment the door closed she was in his arms, her breasts against him, his hardness against her loins. He slid his hands up the smoothness of her back and caressed the back of her head as he kissed her. She pressed against him as he undid the clasp of her gown.
*I want you to be as deep in my body as you are in my mind.* Her thoughts came to him as she gestured and his clothes seemed to liquify and flow to the floor.
"Now that's a handy parlor trick," he responded as he lowered her to the thick carpet.
Time seemed to freeze as the combined waves of their passion flowed over them, and their minds began to mesh as completely as their bodies.
Ikawa was finally drunk enough to really enter into the give-and-take with Jartan, Allic, and Kochanski, and had just finished destroying the logic of one of Kochanski's truisms with a wicked little parable that left them all laughing helplessly, when a tremendous flash of lightning snapped across the sky. There was a rolling boom of thunder and both Allic and Jartan looked at each other for a moment and broke into fresh gales of laughter.
Crystal Warriors Page 18