Well, I take that back. There might have been once when—no, it couldn't have been. Never mind. Different story.
In any case, I found myself abruptly elsewhere, with no feeling of having moved and none of the discomfort that we Easterners, that is, humans, feel when teleporting. I was in a corridor of roughly the dimensions of the dining hall of Castle Black. All of it white. Spotless. The ceiling must have been a hundred feet above me, and the walls were at least forty feet apart, with white pillars in front of them, perhaps twenty feet between each. Perhaps. It may be that my senses were confused by the pure whiteness of everything. Or it may be that everything reported by my senses was meaningless in that place. There was no end to the hallway in either direction. The air was slightly cool, but not uncomfortable. There was no sound except my own breathing, and that peculiar sensation you have when you don't know whether you're hearing your heart beat or feeling it.
Loiosh was stunned into silence. This does not happen every day.
My first reaction, in the initial seconds after my arrival, was that I was the victim of a massive illusion perpetrated by those who had been trying to kill me. But that didn't really hold up, because, if they could do that, they could have shined me, which they clearly wanted to do.
I noticed a black cat at my feet, looking up at me. It meowed, then began walking purposefully down the hall in the direction I was facing. All right, so maybe I'm nuts, but it seems to me that if you're in big trouble, and you pray to your goddess, and then suddenly you're someplace you've never been before, and there's a black cat in front of you and it starts walking, you follow it.
I followed it. My footsteps echoed very loudly, which was oddly reassuring.
I sheathed my rapier as I walked, because the Demon Goddess might take it amiss. The hall continued straight, and the far end was obscured in a fine mist that gave way before me. It was probably illusory. The cat stayed right at the edge of it, almost disappearing into it.
Loiosh said, "Boss, are we about to meet her?"
I said, "It seems likely."
"Oh."
"You've met before—"
"I remember, boss."
The cat actually vanished into the mists, which now remained in place. Another ten or so paces and I could no longer see the walls. The air was suddenly colder and felt a great deal like the basement I'd just escaped. Doors appeared, caught in the act of opening, very slowly, theatrically. They were twice my height and had carvings on them, white on white. It seemed a bit, well, silly to be having both of those doors ponderously open themselves to a width several times what I needed. It also left me not knowing whether to wait until they finished opening or to go inside as soon as I could. I stood there, feeling ridiculous, until I could see. More mist. I sighed, shrugged, and passed within.
It would be hard to consider the place a room—it was more like a courtyard with a floor and a ceiling. Ten or fifteen minutes had fallen behind me since I'd arrived at that place. Loiosh said nothing, but I could feel his tension from the grip of his talons on my shoulder.
She was seated on a white throne set on a pedestal, and she was as I remembered her, only more so. Very tall, a face that was somehow indefinably alien, yet hard to look at long enough to really get the details. Each finger had an extra joint on it. Her gown was white, her skin and hair very dark. She seemed to be the only thing in the room, and perhaps she was.
She stood as I approached, then came down from the pedestal. I stopped perhaps ten feet away from her, unsure what sort of obeisances to make, if any. She didn't appear to mind, however. Her voice was low and even, and faintly melodic, and seemed to contain a hint of its own echo. She said, "You called to me."
I cleared my throat. "I was in trouble."
"Yes. It has been some time since we've seen each other."
"Yes." I cleared my throat again. Loiosh was silent. Was I supposed to say, "So how's it been going?" What does one say to one's patron deity?
She said, "Come with me," and led me out through the mist. We stepped into a smaller room, all dark browns, where the chairs were comfortable and there was a fire crackling away and spitting at the hearth. I allowed her to sit first, then we sat like two old friends reminiscing on battles and bottles past. She said, "There is something you could do for me."
"Ah," I said. "That explains it."
"Explains what?"
"I couldn't figure out why a group of sorcerers would be suddenly attacking me in a basement in South Adrilankha."
"And now you think you know?"
"I have an idea."
"What were you doing in this basement?"
I wondered briefly just how much of one's personal life one ought to discuss with one's god, then I said, "It has to do with marital problems." A look of something like amusement flicked over her features, followed by one of inquiry. I said, "My wife has gotten it into her head to join this group of peasant rebels—"
"I know."
I almost asked how, but swallowed it. "Yes. Well, it's complicated, but I ended up, a few weeks ago, purchasing the Organization interests in South Adrilankha—where the humans live."
"Yes."
"I've been trying to clean it up. You know, cut down on the ugliest sorts of things while still leaving it profitable."
"This does not sound easy."
I shrugged. "It keeps me out of trouble."
"Does it?"
"Well, perhaps not entirely."
"But," she prompted, "the basement?"
"I was looking into that house as a possible office for that area. It was spur-of-the-moment, really; I saw the 'For Rent' sign as I was walking by on other business—"
"Without bodyguards?"
"My other business was seeing my grandfather. I don't take bodyguards everywhere I go." This was true; I felt that as long as my movements didn't become predictable, I should be safe.
"Perhaps this was a mistake."
"Maybe. But you didn't actually have them kill me, just frighten me."
"So you think I arranged it?"
"Yes."
"Why would I do such a thing?"
"Well, according to some of my sources, you are unable to bring mortals to you or speak with them directly unless they call to you."
"You don't seem angry about it."
"Anger would be futile, wouldn't it?"
"Well, yes, but aren't you accustomed to futile anger?"
I felt something like a dry chuckle attempt to escape my throat. I suppressed it and said, "I'm working on that."
She nodded, fixing me with eyes that I suddenly noticed were pale yellow. Very strange. I stared back.
"You know, boss, I'm not sure I like her."
"Yeah."
"So," I said, "now that you've got me, what do you want?"
"Only what you do best," she said with a small smile.
I considered this. "You want someone killed?" I'm not normally this direct, but I still wasn't sure how to speak to the goddess. I said, "I, uh, charge extra for gods."
The smile remained fixed on her face. "Don't worry," she said. "I don't want you to kill a god. Only a king."
"Oh, well," I said. "No problem, then."
"Good."
I said, "Goddess—"
"Naturally, you will be paid."
"Goddess—"
"You will have to do without some of your usual resources, I'm afraid, but—"
"Goddess."
"Yes?"
"How did you come to be called 'Demon Goddess,' anyway?"
She smiled at me, but gave no other answer.
"So tell me about the job."
"There is an island to the west of the Empire. It is called Greenaere."
"I know of it. Between Northport and Elde, right?"
"That is correct. There are, perhaps, four hundred thousand people living there. Many are fishermen. There are also orchards of fruit for trade to the mainland, and there is some supply of gemstones, which they also trade."
"Are there Dragaerans?"
"Yes. But they are not imperial subjects. They have no House, so none of them have a link to the Orb. They have a King. It is necessary that he die."