White Mage

by Jolie Jaquinta

  Chapter 22

  Deeds of Darkness

  Greywind continued on through the night. It wasn't late for him at all. He preferred the night. The darkness. The lack of people. No one looking down at him, or askance. The little guttersnipe Elf. It didn't really bother him anymore. He had access to far more power and influence than anyone he passed. He just found it tedious.

  Almost without breaking stride he vaulted up a low wall, shimmied up a gutter he knew was strong, and pulled himself up onto a terracotta roof with overhung eaves. He reached into the third chimney pot from the left and pulled up a string of coins. He blew the soot from them and hefted them, approximating their weight. They were from Huaxia and had convenient holes in the middle for simple storage. He dropped them into a pouch on his belt; let himself down to a balcony, and from there to another roof.

  Running into Gwendolyn was a stroke of luck. She was nearly as inaccessible as the Grey Elves themselves. Her knowledge wasn't as deep, but it was far easier to comprehend. That was good enough for him. Even if he hadn't run into her, it probably wouldn't have changed his mind. But the information was a bonus and pushed him to move now.

  At the end of the row of houses, Greywind hung from his fingers and lowered himself gingerly onto the top of a wall. It had sharp potsherds mortared onto the top which he stepped carefully around. At the end he reached into the crack between it and the wall, and fished out a long cane he had stolen from an annoying old man. He leaped gently down and walked to the corner. A large piss-pot was stationed there, habitually full. It was at the end of the tanner's run, and usually their collection jars were full by here. He dipped in the cane, fished around for a while, and then brought up a ceramic jug. He smashed this carefully on a nearby stoop and fished out the coins from it and added them to ones in his belt pouch.

  He swayed down the street, nodding to the drunks starting to sleep in the gutters. He felt almost like a lord amongst his people. The lowly and oppressed were his people. He had been there, he understood them. Unlike everyone else, he had no desire to raise them from their state. There was something free in having nothing. Sure, enough food to keep anyone from starving much, and municipal healing helped. Desperation leant an unpleasant edge to his domain. Far better to just be deprived.

  He swung into an all-night tavern, received a tankard of some truly awful beer from a suggestive bar maid, and watched a dice game for a while. When he finished he moved to the bar and called the barkeep over. “I think I'd like to settle my tab,” he said. The barkeep looked downcast, and made to persuade him otherwise. Greywind shook his head, and held out his hand. The man sighed, and counted out several coins form his cash box into his hands. Greywind smiled, handed one back to him with a tug of his forelock.

  Across the street from the tavern was a dark temple. The facade had been reappointed, as all down-on-their-luck shrines had been when Scioni came to power. However it had not been maintained and the mire of the city had dulled it, once more. Inside was a single faux candle with a flickering grey magelight. It more accentuated the darkness, rather than banished it. This was appropriate.

  There was movement in one corner and a priest came forward. “Why do you disturb the darkness? What is it you seek?”

  Greywind unlimbered the, now heavy, bag from his belt, and tossed it to the priest's feet. “It's me,” he said. “I think you'll find the amount you asked for in there.”

  The priest looked surprised, and a little apprehensive. But he picked up the bag and methodically counted out the pieces, mostly by feel. “Very well,” he said with resignation. “Follow me.”

  He led Greywind into the back, rolled up a dark plush rug, and opened a stone trapdoor. They went down for some distance and then into a small alcove. The priest said several prayers and then opened a final door. He led Greywind by hand into the pitch blackness and to a seat. It was covered in what felt like long fur over soft cushions. There was the sound of the striking of a match, but there was no light. The strong smell of incense quickly followed. The priest then started up with his prayers.

  Between the aroma and the chanting, Greywind lost track of time. The seat was almost impossible to feel underneath him, and it was as if the walls of the chamber had receded to some indeterminable distance. With a slight start he noticed the chanting has stopped. He didn't think he had nodded off, but he wasn't sure. There was a chill to the air, and either his eyes were playing tricks on him or else there was a dark shape before him, illuminated by a gegenshein like light.

  “Who summons Nocturne?” called a quiet voice. “What mortal considers himself important enough to take a god's time?”

  “Just me,” said Greywind. “A casual admirer.”

  “Insolence!” came the voice, affronted. “You shall never see the light of day again for your impertinence!”

  “I think you'll need all your mana for the upcoming war,” said Greywind, pleasantly. “Don't you think?”

  There was a long pause. “I cannot read you. You are cloaked well upstart. Are you with those who defy the gods? Did you have my priest drag me there to taunt me?”

  “I'm cloaked in honor of you,” said Greywind. “I said I was an admirer. But yeeees, I am with those who defy the gods, but nooooo, I'm not here to taunt you.”

  “You have more than tried my patience, mortal,” she hissed back. “Make your point quickly if you would stay my hand!”

  “Why does everyone have to be so touchy?” Greywind lamented. “OK. OK. Look, I'm all for thumbing your nose at authority. You might even say I'm a bit of a professional at it. But, you know, you gods are kind of a cultural foundation here. I'm not entirely up with the whole drive to wipe you out.”

  “How gratifying,” said Nocturne, sarcastically. “I think you will find our power more than you reckon.”

  “Is that so?” said Greywind. “Do you know where the power of the gods comes from?”

  There was a pause. “Are we here to discuss elementary theology? Everyone knows. It is from the might of their presence, the greatness of their celestial court, and the adoration of their worshipers.”

  “Ultimately the first two come from the last one,” said Greywind. “Do you know where the power of the New Magic comes from?”

  “I care not,” said Nocturne, haughtily. “It is a heresy. All who practice it will be dismissed from the presence of the gods.”

  “You should care,” said Greywind. “Because it is pretty much the same thing. The adoration of the people, as you put it, is sort of an unfocused mana generation. The mages of the New Magic have a much more focused version of the same thing. And they retain that power for themselves to do their own miracles. It's direct competition. That's what really has the bigwigs all upset. Or did they not tell you this?”

  “They have not dwelled on the technicalities,” she admitted.

  “There is more,” said Greywind. He left a pause, but Nocturne did not speak. Neither did she interrupt. “It was the discoveries of this same New Magic, long ago, that lead to the creation of the gods. They were but mages, like those now wielding the New Magic, back then.”

  “You are sadly misinformed,” said Nocturne. “I am a god. I remember no such thing. I was raised to godhood for my deeds.”

  “You are a new god,” said Greywind. “Where do you think the first came from?” He let that sink in. “And, you and the other new gods are different. You remember being raised. They do not. In fact, they do not remember anything but the most recent century or two.”

  “Their minds are on higher things,” said Nocturne.

  “They may tell you that, but it's not true. They cannot remember. It is part of the curse that they placed on themselves in order to forget the New Magic and become gods,” he said.

  “That does not even make sense,” said Nocturne. “Why would they use this great magic to forget this great magic?”

  “How could they be gods if they knew their power was something that anyone could learn?” said Greywind. “So they forget.
And I have it, on good authority that they cannot remember. No way. No how.”

  Nocturne thought on this. “Why do you bring me this information? Do you seek to ingratiate yourself to me by betraying your own people? Do you hope to be spared from the slaughter during the war?”

  “Oh, I'll just lie low and muddle on through, I always do,” he said. “There are bound to be casualties. I just have to make sure I'm not one of them, bide my time, and see where I stand amongst who is left.”

  “You pray for night to hide you?” asked Nocturne.

  “Well, I was thinking that if that made sense for me, it might make sense for you,” he said.

  “You give me advice?” she said, incredulously.

  “There are bound to be casualties. On both sides” said Greywind with emphasis. “Like I said: I like you. Much better than the stuffy old gods. I wouldn't cry at all to see more of your lot and less of their lot.”

  “Or do you just seek to stir up dissent?” Nocturne asked. “To make said casualties a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

  “Take my advice or leave it,” said Greywind. “I'm not asking you to withhold support or anything treasonous. Just consider being in a position to capitalize on any... change in leadership.”

  “How gracious of you,” she said. “While not all of us are in the high one's inner circles, it is no secret that your mages are on their last legs. Their little foray into the demon lands was at great cost to their power. Gods know something of mana and it is obvious to even a 'new god' such as myself that their reserves are pathetically low. There is nothing to stop us cleansing the earth of their memory.”

  “What you say is completely true,” said Greywind. “Right now.”

  “Right now?” asked Nocturne.

  “Yes, right now,” repeated Greywind. “But that will not be true tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month. Hard to say exactly when.”

  “What are you babbling about?” said Nocturne, impatiently.

  “Just some... progress that has been made recently,” said Greywind. “They have found another way to fill their mana reserves. One that does not require the tedious worship or focus of a multitude of people. They don't have to compete with the gods anymore for adherents. They can just plug in and fill up! Thank you for playing.”

  “If that were true, we would have seen this. They would have used it,” protested Nocturne.

  “I said progress has been made,” said Greywind. “There has been a breakthrough in knowledge. It has yet to be brought to fruition. But when it is, it will be too late... For the gods.”

   “I am somewhat doubtful,” said Nocturne.

  “Why would I bluff? It isn't exactly a tactic to save time. And that's what they need most now.” Greywind shrugged. “Suit yourself. I've had my say. Thank you oh worshipful eminence. You can go back to your ambrosia now. I shan't bother you further.”

  There was a long, drawn out pause. “I'll think on this conversation” said Nocturne, finally. And then there was an absence.

  Greywind waited for a while. No thunderbolt struck. He reached out and felt a carpeted wall. The room seemed merely dark with lingering stale incense. He then smiled a small smile to himself.

  ARC 3