Nuitari didn’t have to worry about that.
The gods would stop the gods.
Each god would want his or her own artifacts, of course. Each god would also want to insure that although he got his, no other gods would get theirs.
For example, Mishakal would not want Sargonnas, currently the most powerful God of Darkness, to regain his artifacts. She would seek out allies in her efforts to impede him—unlikely allies, such as Chemosh, who would side with Mishakal in this, for the Lord of Death was locked in a power struggle with Sargonnas and would not want the Horned God growing stronger that he already was. Then there was Gilean, God of the Scales, who might well oppose both the gods of Light and of Darkness, for fear that the return of these artifacts to any of the gods would upset an already teetering balance.
The sacred fur would really fly when the gods found out Nuitari was in possession of artifacts of Takhisis, the dead Queen of Darkness, and those of the self-exiled god, Paladine. Although their creators were gone, the artifacts remained, as did their holy power, which could be immensely useful to any god or mortal who laid hands on them. The squabbling over these alone might well last for centuries.
Meanwhile, Nuitari’s plan was to go about heaven making secret deals, quietly handing over an artifact here and another one there, playing the gods one off the other, all the while strengthening his own position.
Though Nuitari had hated Takhisis and had done his best to oppose her in everything she had ever done, he was like his mother in one regard—he had her dark ambition.
Opposing that ambition were Nuitari’s two cousins, Lunitari and Solinari. The gods of White and Red Magic would not give a bent copper for the holy artifacts. The Kingpriest, not trusting wizards or their magic, had not kept any artifacts belonging to wizards. Those magical objects that were found (and there were few, for the wizards had hidden most away) were immediately destroyed. Nuitari’s cousins would be furious when they heard he had gone off and built his own Tower. They would be furious—and they would be dismayed, grief-stricken. Since the beginning of time, the gods of the three moons had stood together in unity to guard what was most precious to them—the magic.
The three cousins had no secrets from each other. Until now.
Nuitari felt badly about breaking faith with his cousins, just not badly enough. Ever since his mother, Takhisis, had betrayed him by snatching away the world—his world!—he had determined that from then on he would trust no one. Besides, he had devised the means to appease his cousins. Nothing would be the same between them again, of course. But then, nothing would ever be the same for any of gods. The world—and heaven—had changed forever.
Nuitari wondered what Chemosh was up to, and this brought the god’s thoughts back to Mina. Nuitari came here often. Not to question Mina. His Black Robes had been doing that, and they had found out precious little. Nuitari had been content to merely watch her. Now, on impulse (and thinking, too, that Chemosh might yet surprise him), Nuitari decided to interrogate Mina himself.
He had moved her from the crystal cell in which he’d first imprisoned her. The sight of her prowling about had proven to be too distracting for his wizards. He had wrapped her in a magical cocoon of isolation, so she could not communicate with anyone anywhere, and shifted her to a suite of rooms intended as living quarters for the Black Robe archmages who were destined to populate the Tower beneath the Blood Sea.
Mina was lodged in chambers meant for a high-ranking wizard. These consisted of two rooms, a sitting room and study, lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves—and a private bedroom.
She paced her quarters like a caged minotaur, walking the length of the sitting room, going from there into the bedroom, and then retracing her steps into the sitting room. His wizards reported that she sometimes walked like this for hours, walked and walked until she was exhausted. She did nothing else except pace, despite the fact that Nuitari had provided her with books on a variety of subjects, ranging from religious doctrine to poetry, philosophy to mathematics. She never so much as opened a single book, his wizards reported—at least, not that they had observed.
Nuitari had provided other forms of entertainment. A khas board stood on a pedestal in a corner. The pieces were covered with dust. She’d never touched it. She ate little, just enough to keep up her strength for pacing. He was glad he had not gone to the expense of putting down a rug. She would have worn a hole in it.
The God of Dark Magic could have melted through the walls, had he chosen, and taken her by surprise. He decided he would not start off their relationship in such an antagonistic manner and so, removing the powerful wizard lock from the door, he knocked and politely requested permission to enter.
Mina did not pause in her restless pacing. If she glanced at the door, that is as much as she did. Amused, Nuitari opened the door and walked into the room.
Mina did not look up. “Get out and leave me alone. I have answered all your foolish questions I am going to answer, or better yet, tell that Master of yours that I want to see him.”
“Your wish is my command, Mina,” said Nuitari. “The Master is here.”
Mina halted her pacing. She did not cringe or appear the least discomfited. She faced him boldly, defiantly. “Let me go!” she demanded, then she added unexpectedly, her voice low and impassioned, “Or kill me!”
“Kill you?” Nuitari allowed his heavy lidded eyes, which always looked as if they were half-closed, to open. “Has my usage of you been that ill, that you should wish for death?”
“I cannot stand to be confined!” Mina cried, and her gaze roved about the room, as though she would bore through solid rock with her eyes.
She regained mastery of herself in the next moment. Biting her lip and looking as though she regretted her outburst, she added, “You have no right to keep me here.”
“No right at all,” Nuitari agreed. “But then, I am a god and I do what I want with mortals, your rights be damned. Though even I don’t go about murdering the innocent, as does Chemosh. I have been hearing reports of his Beloved—as he terms them.”
“My lord does not murder them. He gives them the gift of life unending,” Mina retorted, “lasting youth and beauty. He takes away the fear of death.”
“I’ll give him credit. He does do that,” Nuitari said dryly. “As I understand it, once you’re dead, the fear of dying is considerably reduced. At least, that is how you explained it to Basalt and Caele when you tried to seduce them.”
Mina kept her gaze level with his, which Nuitari found disconcerting. So few mortals could face him or any god. He wondered, with a flash of irritation, if this chit had been so bold with his mother.
“I told them of Chemosh,” Mina said, unapologetic. “That is true.”
“Neither Basalt nor Caele took you up on your offer, though, did they?”
“No,” Mina admitted. “Their respect and reverence for you is great.”
“Let us say they like the power I give them. Most wizards like the power and would be very loath to lose it, even in exchange for ‘life unending’ which, from what I have observed, is more like death warmed over. I doubt if you’ll convert many wizards to the worship of your lord.”
“I doubt it myself,” said Mina, and she smiled.
Her smile transformed her face, made the amber eyes glow, and Nuitari was drawn to their warm allure. He actually felt himself start to slide into them, felt her warmth congeal around him ...