"The Queen of Grain."
"Unimaginable."
"Agreed," said the Laestrygonian softly. "Even I (and I am as loyal as his own right hand is to Lord Mavors), I would embrace my own spear before I would raise a weapon against the Lady Mother Demeter. The only one left is the limp-wristed poet."
"I thought we were listing goddesses."
"We are."
"We are speaking of the Bright God, the one they call the Destroyer?"
"The Flaming Solar Faggot, I call him. His hand is on the harp-string these days, not the bow-string."
"You amaze me, Centurion, in the breadth, or shall I say, the depth, of your wisdom. It is like a hole without a bottom. You must have studied for years to learn the art of forgetting every lesson in history.
The Destroyer is the greatest god of us all, invincible in war, a master of all arts and sciences, a philosopher, learned in letters, a prophet who sees the secrets of the future___Do you recall that he shot one million arrows at the Telchine demon called Phython, when that monster was nigh to destroying all of the established Earth? Alone and without aid, the Destroyer fought him on the sea and in the air, burned him with arrows of fire, and broke his back over his shining knee. So great was that battle that some of those ar-rows are still in flight through the upper heavens. When they fall to Earth, they make a streak that men call falling stars, and they are held to be a sign of good luck."
"A million, you said? How many missed? In my company, we get a stroke of the rod for every arrow that misses the target."
"The Destroyer is not on my list at all. He does not want the throne; he does not want for there to be a throne at all, but prefers we had the demos vote, as they did in Athens."
"He is also not on my list. The boy-kisser does not have the balls it would take to conspire against my lord Mavors."
"Well, then, who is left?"
"The young Love God. The Archer. Remember? Our Emperor. The one the Three Queens assigned to rule over us now that Lord Terminus is gone."
"You mean Lord Eros, son of Mavors and Cyprian. I recall him well. We endured the rule of Love in Heaven for all of thirteen years, during which time he disbanded the army, emptied the treasury, trampled on all of our ancient rights and privileges, turned the tablets of the laws on their heads, so that the innocent were punished and the guilty were spared. They say the English who lived in this land, during their years of darkness, prayed to their god to spare them from the fury of the Norsemen. Were their god a real one, I would pray: 'Spare me, O Lord, from the Compassion of Reformers!'"
"You think the Archer would kill the hostages?"
Boggin said, "I do not know what Lord Eros is capable of. He may have been in the pay of Chaos all this while. If he had been setting out to do as much damage as possible to the strength and dignity of the Sovereignty of Heaven, I do not see how he could have done more. If he was not in the pay of Chaos, then I congratulate their wisdom: they saved money."
The Laestrygonian said, "You said you would not put the Vine God at the top of your list, but you have removed nearly everyone else from the list. That puts him at the top, does it not?"
"So it seems."
"We will assign watchers to keep eyes on the Vine God; your task is to arrange a likely-seeming escape for the Chaos pups you have here. Do you understand?"
"I think there is very little chance that I would misunderstand the situation to the degree and in the way that other people in this room might have done, my dear Centurion."
"When will the escape be carried out?"
"Oh, but my good Infantophage, such things require great delicacy! We do not want the children harmed, do we? That would defeat the purpose. I will keep you informed as events progress."
"Do not toy with the idea of disobeying the Lord Ma-vors."
"Oh, I would never toy with that idea, my dear Centurion. Not toy with it. Oh, no. I greet the orders (albeit, the word 'suggestions' comes to mind as one that may be more apt in that context) of the Lord Mavors with the most grave, and, shall I say, sober deliberation. I daresay I put as much thought into obeying his instructions as he put into formulating them, or, since any finite sum exceeds zero, I am tempted to say, more. He certainly knows how children should be treated! What a fine job he did raising the Lord Eros from a spoilt, immature, mewling baby to a spoilt, immature, mewling tyrant… well, to someone who was occupying, that is to say, taking up space on, the very throne of Heaven itself!
Mavors must stay awake nights thinking about what a fine job he did raising Lord Eros"
"Lord Mavors did not raise Lord Eros. The child was born a bastard out of wedlock. What in the world are you talking about?"
"Ahh… ? Hm… ? Well, perhaps I was thinking about someone else. I understand your orders. There may be delays in carrying them out——-We cannot be too careful in these matters, eh?"
The moment the Laestrygonian had gone, Boggin turned and smiled at the peephole, sucking through his teeth a great, hissing indrawn breath. A gale-force wind sucked the panel door open and pulled Vanity flopping headlong into the room.
Boggin seized her about the shoulders and drew her up. Her legs kicked, unable to touch the floor. "As one of the few people endowed (may I say blessed?) blessed with the power of the Phaeacians, I find it unduly, even absurdly, useful to be able to tell when people are spying on me, my little Miss Fair. My fair Miss Fair. No harm shall come to you, however, my pretty little sneak-mouse. But when you intrude your perky little nose into business of your elders, it is regrettable, and I do regret, that certain steps must be taken, to preserve your life and, indeed, the lives of all the other young women in the universe, women not so very attractive as yourself, of course. I will not ask you to forgive me—My! You do wiggle quite a bit when you struggle, don't you?—no, I will not ask, not because I do you no wrong—I fear it is a great, one is tempted to say, a calamitous wrong—but, rather because, in the future, I hope that, in the kindness of your heart, you will put this whole incident from your memory. To help you with this process, we will go inquire after our good Dr. Fell, perhaps with some help from our own dear Miss Daw and our own not-so-dear Mrs. Wren, if she is not stinking drunk today. Shall we?"
And he tucked her over his shoulder, Tarzan-carrying-Jane style, and walked out of the office with her.
3.
Because Vanity had just been stimulated in her memory by a molecular engine of Victor's, aided by a psychic energy by Colin, her memory of this event was crystal clear. She was able to report it word for word, in perfect detail.
She stood in the room, pacing back and forth, showing us the expression and mannerisms of Boggin and his thin guest. She did such a lifelike impersonation of Boggin's hemming and hawing that we all laughed, until Victor shushed us to hear the grim words Vanity was repeating.
Miguel arrived with the champagne about then, and Colin twisted his ring for the moments while the steward was in the room.
We passed around the shining and bubbling wine and drank toasts, led by Colin, who stood atop the table in the center of the cabin, one after another, to every class Colin had been behind in, every upcoming test he had been dreading.
We talked over Vanity's story for what seemed like a long time, though perhaps I was merely sleepy and thickheaded with champagne.
Victor believed that Boggin was cooperating with the Laestrygonian, and had arranged our escape, merely by picking certain coincidences and placing them in our future. Perhaps the Olympian power of destiny control allowed for this. Perhaps not.