“I - I don’t know. I’ll have to give it some thought. But what does he intend to do with his hostages?”
“For one thing, they’re not hostages - you can bet he’s not holding them for ransom. He can never let them loose and expect to live, remember? Let’s see... here’s some possibilities. Start off assuming he wants to take over, wants to be the only god around, or the supreme god anyway - having the former big-cheese gods toady to him would be just his kind of satisfaction. So, a preemptive strike, obviously, and now he’s just about won almost before he’s begun. But does it end there?” Max stared into space for a moment. “Could he be drawing power from the ones he’s got confined? He is, isn’t he.”
“...Yes,” said Phlinn Arol, “he is. That is what he says. I have received a personal message from him. A message of friendship and conciliation. He invites me to join him as an equal to help him rule the world.”
“That’s it? Anybody else get one of these messages?”
“I don’t know, Max. I -”
“Wait a minute. Does he mention me in this message? He knows you’re assisting the Emperor and he knows the Emperor’s got me locked up; that was his plan, right? Does he want you to deliver me to him?”
“He didn’t mention that,” Phlinn said. “He could be trying to disarm my suspicions and draw me within his grasp.”
“Damn right,” Max told him. “If he’s trying to butter you up that means you could be his next target. You’ve seen how he operates. So what do you want to do? What’s your plan?”
“I suppose I could impose a geas on every adventurer in town,” mused Phlinn Arol, the Adventurers’ God, “set them to storm the Scapula and bring back his head. Of course all that would yield is a pile of dead adventurers, wouldn’t it, and the Scapula’s unmistakable enmity. I could send the Emperor to face the Knitting alone while I quit Peridol for some sunny southern climate, but that would only serve the Emperor up to him while not making me any less a target. More of a target, if anything, since demonstrated cowardice would show I was ready to be swept from the board.” He shrugged. “Even if you called it a strategic redeployment, what advantage could regrouping offer? What other allies would there be to seek who are not available now? What additional resources could I find?
“Or I could put you back into play.”
“I thought the Emperor wasn’t going to like that,” Max said sarcastically.
“At the moment the Emperor is not my greatest concern.”
“Well, setting me loose is the course of action I’d recommend. I’ve been suggesting it ever since I got here, if you recall. At least you’ve finally come to your -”
“I’m not turning you free,” stated Phlinn Arol. “You will be on a leash. You will come with me to the Knitting. Afterward we will see where the situation lies. Will you do this?”
“This may be exactly what Arznaak is planning on,” said Max. “Sending you that message, trying to panic you into bringing me out where he can pulverize me once and for all.”
“Or he could assume you’ll be here alone in the dungeon during the Knitting, without me to protect you. Will you do this for me? Are you finally afraid of the Scapula?”
“I’ve always been afraid of the Scapula. Anything else means you’re living in a dream. Yeah, I’ll back you up. But just what help do you think I can give you? How much good you think an expert consultant on Arznaak is going to be if he cuts loose?”
Phlinn Arol’s expression of concern was suddenly broken by a brief and rather unpleasant grin. “You have been very clever, Maximillian, but I have been watching you for a long time; more closely even than the Scapula, perhaps. You have mastered some of the tricks of the second quantum level, yes? You have sought to destroy the gods, hmm? I offer you Arznaak.”
“He’s in fairly sorry condition,” said Gashanatantra, gazing down at the comatose form of Jardin, just dragged in by Jill’s troops, “but at least he’s alive; that’s something. Now all we have to do is get him in shape to talk.”
“Keep your hands off him,” Jill-tang spat. “He’s already been tortured enough without you using your ‘methods’ on him too.”
“There may not be many of us not under the Scapula’s claw,” Gash pointed out. “Those of us left are natural allies.” He spread his hands. “Very well, I’m won’t interfere with him... although any information he might be able to provide could help us all . Time may be critical before the Scapula strikes at us here.”
Jill snorted. “How could he reach us here? This is my sanctum, remember? We’re shielded behind -”
“How could he have done anything he’s done? It’s prudent to assume every extra moment puts us in greater hazard. But you have said not to work on Jardin, so my arms remain folded.”
“If you say you love me, why do you always act like such a bastard?”
“I treat you the same way I treat everyone,” said Gashanatantra. “Better, actually, if you want to know the truth. I seem to be a little old to change my nature.”
“You know I’ve been with Jardin,” Jill said. “Why have you done even this much to save him? So you can pull him to pieces now at your own pace?”
“Perhaps I have been changing my nature after all,” Gash murmured. “You’ve been happy with him, yes? At least relatively?” He shrugged. “I may be jealous, but I’m not a psychopath. I’m glad for you to be happy; why should I destroy that? He is an idiot, and if you come to realize that too I’ll be ready, but why should I make you hate me all over again by - well, enough said, perhaps.” Gash coughed. “I’ve also just described to you where I think our self-interest lies, as well. Then there is the off-chance that Jardin has been in some manner booby-trapped.”
“You can’t be serious,” began Jill. “... Do you really think so?”
“No, not really; if he was a trap the Scapula wouldn’t have made it so hard for us to find him, or might even have have had him dropped off at the door. Still, we surely haven’t seen the last of his cleverness.”
“I don’t love him,” Jill said abruptly. “I don’t think I love you, but I certainly don’t love Jardin. And he is an idiot. You’d better do what you can to wake him up.”
CHAPTER 15
“Are the Hands still bickering?” asked Svin, insinuating himself silently back at Karlini’s side at his observation post at the window of Shaa’s flat.
“They’re still trying to decide whether to immolate us or enlist us as allies,” Karlini told him. “How are our defenses?”
“Shaa has a well-stocked pantry,” Svin said. “Wroclaw is boiling his cooking oil in a succession of large pots. Haddo is smearing toxic ointments and muttering something about birds. I have shifted furniture.”
“And Dortonn?”
“He has not died, despite his pronouncements. He claims to be attempting to raise his god.”
“I guess anything’s possible,” Karlini grumbled. “There’s no point in a preemptive attack against them, is there?”
“How badly do you want to attend the Knitting?”
“Not that badly.”
“Then no. Unless you wish to speed all our deaths.”
“Maybe we’d better ask that of Dortonn,” said Karlini. “Was he like this when he was running things back at your home in the north?”
“Dortonn likes ruling people too much to give up and die,” Svin told him.
“He also seems to like revenge.”
“That is true,” said Svin. “Revenge is a tradition of the north.”