I gestured toward the cube on the floor. “How do you use that thing?”
“All you need to do is hold it,” said Teldra.
“Vlad—” said Aliera.
“Oh, stuff it,” I said. “Morrolan, if I get you two out of those things, will you be able to get us out of here? Back home?”
He hesitated, then looked disgusted and shook his head. “Maybe,” he said, “but probably not.”
Aliera said, “Can you get us out, Vlad?”
“I’m still thinking about that,” I said. “But even if I can I don’t know how much good it will do.”
“I would rather,” she said, “be free to act, no matter what happens after.”
“I understand that,” I told her.
Either way was a gamble—picking up the cube, or attempting to free Morrolan and Aliera. I don’t like gambling, especially when I don’t know the odds; or at least the stakes. When possible, I’d rather be running the game than playing it. But now the Jenoine were running it, and I didn’t even know the rules. I didn’t know how to free them, and I didn’t know if I could kill Verra. Freeing them might accomplish nothing; killing my Demon Goddess was not high on my list of ways to spend an afternoon.
I reached down and picked up the Morganti dagger; stuffed it into my belt. It wasn’t easy to do—I’d never liked those things, and I could tell instantly that this was a particularly nasty one. Well, I suppose it would have to be, if they expected me to kill the Goddess with it.
Morrolan snapped, “What are you doing, Vlad?”
“Can always use a good Morganti dagger, right?”
“Boss, you’re not going to—”
“I’ve got to do something. I’m bored.”
“Oh. You’re bored. Well, that’s a good reason—”
“Drop it.”
So I didn’t have a plan. I did, as I stood there, start to get seeds of what might, sometime, become a vague step generally in the direction of an intention. I may be stating that too strongly.
I took a good look around the room, noting the tall, thin metal shelves; the flat grey look of the walls; the height of the ceiling. I tried to fix it in my mind. I could not imagine what circumstances might lead me to try teleporting here, but that is the sort of thinking that goes with paying attention to details, in case you’re curious about how my mind works.
My chest hurt. I tried to keep my breathing shallow, and to forget about how heavy I felt. It would be impossible to exert myself without taking deep breaths. I felt Aliera and Morrolan watching me. One step, and I was committed, and I still just didn’t have enough information. But the only other option was standing around doing nothing, and that would only be effectie for so long.
No, if I was going to do something, I had to have information, and there was no one here who could give it to me, which left only one option.
I reached into my pouch and pulled out two pieces of gammon. I handed one to Aliera and one to Morrolan. “If you’re going to be helpless and miserable,” I said, “at least you can eat a little.”
They both accepted it, and they both looked like they were trying to decide if they should thank me, but neither said anything. I flexed my fingers.
All right.
“Lady Teldra,” I said, “would you come here, please? Take my hand, if you would.”
She did so, asking no questions but looking curious. Her hand was dry and cool. I reached down with my other hand, not letting her go, and picked up the small black cube.
Aliera said, “Vlad, what are you doing?”
The cube was very heavy for its size, but didn’t seem to do anything except make the walls of the room turn a dull, ugly white. Or, at any rate, that was my first reaction; it took a moment to realize that Teldra, Loiosh, and I now stood in the Hallsof Verra, the Demon Goddess. 5. Pleasantries with Deities
Everything was too big and too white. The ceiling too high, the walls too far apart, the pillars spaced along the walls too big around, and everything the same uniform, ugly, chalky, pasty color. It was huge. It was only a hallway.
The next thing I noticed was that it was easier to breathe, I didn’t feel as heavy and sluggish as I had a second ago. It was only then that I realized that the little black cube had, after doing its job, neatly vanished.
“I got to get me one of those,” I remarked. My voice sounded funny; it took me a second to realize it was because there was no echo—it was as if the corridor was absorbing the sound.
“I’ll pass one along next time we get a shipment,” said Teldra. Her voice sounded odd, too.
I had to look at her before I knew she was kidding. It was a very un-Teldra-like remark; I guess she was rattled too. She said, “Where are we?”
“Where we’re supposed to be. Or where we’re not supposed to be, depending on how you look at it. But this is the home of Verra. I’ve been here before. Straight up ahead there, through those doors, is where I’ve seen her.”
“You’ve been in her presence, then?”
“Yes, a couple of times. Once here, once elsewhere. Or maybe more often than that, if you use ‘presence’ loosely enough.”
“We are surrounded by the color of illness; not very encouraging.”
“I think it means something else to her.”
“I suspected as much. But what?”
“I don’t know, exactly. Is it important?”
“It is something I ought to have known.”
“As Morrolan’s High Priestess, you mean?”
She nodded. “Something like that can be important. And just in general, the more I know of the gods, the better.”
“You must already know a great deal; maybe there are things you ought to tell me about Verra, before we go through those doors.”
“Perhaps there are,” she said. “But one thing I know, my dear Easterner, is that to you she is the Demon Goddess, and to me she is Verra, and we know her differently. Whatever I know might not be useful; indeed, it might mislead you.”
I grunted. “Are the walls white?”
“Yes.”
“I see them that way, too.”
“Point taken.”
“Then let’s hear it.”
“On the other hand,” she said, smiling a little, “it may be that I can’t tell you anything useful, and you’re just procrastinating, because you aren’t in a hurry to go through those doors”
“Point taken,” I said, and started walking toward the doors.
“Wait,” she said.
I waited.
“A god,” said Lady Teldra, “is the living, sentient embodiment of a symbol.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, that clears up everything.”
“Your people, Easterners, might speak of a god of life, a god of death, a god of mountains, and so on. Isn’t that true?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “I think so. My education was a bit spotty.”
“Those are all symbols.”
“Death is a symbol?”
“Certainly. Very much so. Death, in fact, is a very powerful symbol because it defines life.”
There were many things I could say to that, but I settled for, “All right, go on.”
She looked around, gesturing to the walls. “We stand in the halls of a very powerful being; one with skills and abilities that surpass those of any mortal. By tradition, she represents the random arbitrariness of life.”
“That’s the rumor.”
“Well, look around. Does her home appear random and arbitrary?”
I grunted, because I don’t like giving obvious answers to pointed questions. “What are you getting at?”
“That she isn’t just a symbol, she’s also a person.”
“Uh ...”
“The tradition isn’t wrong,” said Teldra, “it is merely imprecise. She—” Teldra stopped and frowned, as if looking for the right words. “Your goddess,” she said at last, “is capricious. At any rate, that is her reputation. It may be only that we expect being with her power to behave with a certain consistency and decorum, whereas she follows her whims as much as any of us do. But don’t depend on her.”