“None of us will mind onions before long. Now what?” The Old Ones had just jumped as though collectively goosed. They began murmuring.
“Get Heris.” Hecht produced his handheld firepowder weapon. It clunked against the tabletop.
He had no match handy but doubted that would matter. The Old Ones did not understand the weapons. They had trouble with most things mechanical. That was Aelen Kofer stuff.
He chewed tough meat and watched. Heris joined him. She chewed tough meat, watched, and said nothing, either.
Cloven Februaren arrived. Ferris Renfrow followed. Both were suffering.
Februaren moaned, “In a sane world an accomplished sorcerer could banish a hangover in seconds.”
Renfrow grunted and growled, “In a world with color and magic.”
There was no color in the tavern whatsoever, which Hecht took to indicate a total lack of magic.
He felt his left wrist. His amulet was there.
Februaren noted the movement. Weakly, he said, “No magic at all.”
Two Old Ones left their crowd. Male and female, they looked like healthy humans about forty years of age. Hourlr and Hourli. They were twins. And not originally Shining Ones. They were Raneul, gods the Old Ones had defeated in the War of the Gods. Some of the defeated had left their world for the Realm of the Gods after that war’s end.
The curious character inside Piper Hecht wanted to ask questions until he ferreted out details of that conflict.
The twins faced him. Their manner was respectful. The female said, “It is plain that you do not trust us, despite the oaths and assurances you have extracted.”
“Talk to Heris.” He indicated his sister. “She decides here.” A nod.
“As you wish.” Hourli nodded.
The male god spoke to her. “You judge us all by the example of Lucke. You believe that his behavior is what can be expected of us all. That is not the way it will be.”
Hecht was inclined to observe that only one rogue Instrumentality was needed to bring on the pain. He kept silent.
Heris said, “Most knowledge of you has vanished from the middle world. You live on only in the folk stories of peasants and Asgrimmur’s recollections from the Great Sky Fortress. And in the Bastard’s mind. None of those sources offer any reason to trust the Shining Ones.”
“Perhaps. The mortal perspective must, of necessity, be different. However, mortality is being taken into account. We are investing in our own survival. We must immigrate to the middle world for the power. While we are there, during your time, we will cleave to our promises. Without trickery. Without treachery. Without legalistic mumbo jumbo being used to evade understood obligations. We face extinction. That is no sweet prospect.”
The female divinity continued, speaking to Hecht. “It used to be thought best for us to be seen as clever and tricky-though that reputation came more from muddled, delusional mortal thinking than from deliberate divine mischief.”
Hecht was not sure he understood, but that sounded good.
* * *
Korban Iron Eyes burst into the tavern, stumbled, nearly fell. Audacious but inauspicious. A dozen short, wide, hairy, ferocious-looking dwarves followed. All wore armor and an arsenal of sharps.
The Aelen Kofer.
Every dwarf had a slow match sputtering atop his or her helmet. Every dwarf’s personal weaponry included at least two handheld falcons.
Hecht muttered to Heris, “I didn’t think it would be long before they started playing with firepowder toys.”
“Good news, them turning up, though.”
The return of the dwarves meant a way out of the Realm of the Gods. If Iron Eyes decided to let them go.
None of the Old Ones bullied the Aelen Kofer. Wise, considering survival was at stake.
The crown prince of the dwarves strutted around, eyeballing each Old One and middle-worlder. He got the cold eye from Piper Hecht, then a snicker.
“Something amusing you?”
“Your hair is on fire.”
“Yikes!” Smoldering because of a rogue slow match, Khor-ben Jarneyn was less intimidating than he hoped.
Jarneyn’s son dumped water on his father’s head. The indignity wrung the tension out of the moment.
Iron Eyes pretended amusement. “Heris. Girl. You’ve exceeded my expectations. You winkled them out and you tamed them. What were the odds?”
Copper said, “I knew you’d do it.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
Nothing of the sort had been in the younger dwarf’s mind. He sputtered like the match atop his helmet.
“Just messing with you. Iron Eyes, stop pretending to be some serious badass and help us get out of this dump before we starve.”
“Living on onions and beer? Sounds like paradise to me.”
“You’ve been listening at keyholes.”
Hecht was startled. That was daring. Iron Eyes had a real capacity to make her miserable. “Heris.”
“I know. I’ll stop, now.”
Iron Eyes said, “I apologize. I really didn’t think you’d get it under control.”
“We’re all set. Agreements are in place. In exchange for freedom the Shining Ones will help Piper. And, once they have their strength back, they’ll help with Kharoulke’s extended family. So. Talk to me about how to get home.”
“It’s pretty basic, my love. Same as when we opened the way for your elderly relative, before. Pack your bags and strap on your sea legs.”
“All right.” Heris started to rise.
“Let me look around first. Just to make sure everything is what it seems.”
“You’re the judge. You get to do whatever you want. That was our deal.”
“Such a mixture of temptation. Letting everything just fade away is huge. The Aelen Kofer would feel that some balance had been achieved. But we did make promises. Though we reserved the right to be flexible concerning our own survival.”
“But not so worried that somebody might recognize you as major bullshitters. Come on, Iron Eyes! I’ve seen you in action. I know what you’re up to.”
“You are a marvel, Heris. I do wish you had been born Aelen Kofer. I’d add you to my harem.”
“Pity, that.” As one of the squat and hairies delivered a solid punch to the crown prince’s left bicep. “But I’d insist on exclusive rights. So, we’re going sailing.”
“Rowing. It’s the only way.”
“A half truth but why cavil about paths through the world of the Aelen Kofer? I want to go home. Though I do have something to do before we go.” She left briskly. Iron Eyes exchanged interrogatory glances with the men around the table, then shrugged.
Heris came back with the soul eggs of the Trickster, Red Hammer, and Zyr. She fumbled them onto a table facing the Shining Ones, indicated which was which. “It’s possible I could restore these three. I’m the only one who can. I’ll hear arguments, for and against. I’ll keep in mind the characters of the individuals.” Not so subtly saying she was disinclined to hear support for the Trickster.
The gods had opinions. They expressed those, loudly.
“Stop!” Heris barked. “I don’t want a debate. We’ll vote. And I claim a vote for myself. First, Lucke. I vote for no mercy. The son of a bitch stays here.”
Six Old Ones agreed. Sprenghul and Fastthal dithered, then reluctantly agreed with the others.
Little patience was accorded them. They were the least of the rescued Instrumentalities.
“All right. Excellent. The Trickster stays.” She indicated the soul egg of the war god. “I have no opinion. I know nothing about him. I’ll vote only if there’s a tie.”
A tiebreaker was not needed. The quiet, no longer well-known Zyr was universally respected. His peers seemed to think he should take over as top deity. He was the eldest and wisest.
“Which leaves Red Hammer, no thinker or planner, which is why he ended up this way. I’ve heard the arguments about him. They don’t make me think that he won’t do something else deadly stupid if I restore him.”
The Old Ones voted. Three were in favor of restoration. Two were against it. Hourli and Hourlr abstained, as did Red Hammer’s stepdaughter, Aldi.