Hour of Mischief

by Aimee Hyndman

  “Uh . . . right.” I picked at the broken edge of a nail I had busted in my fight yesterday. “So you’ve . . . grown to care about humans before?”

  “I have,” she said. “Sometimes I grew to care about them as friends. As really good drinking buddies. Like the founder of this tavern here. This place has been standing for nearly two hundred years now and I helped the owner get it as a token of my friendship. That’s why I’m so welcome here.” She observed her fingernails. “Being the Goddess of Festivities and Merriment, I don’t usually enjoy more serious emotions like love. I like fun. So I didn’t often become truly infatuated with a human.”

  “But you have before,” I said.

  “I have.” She nodded. “Once quite recently too. Only twenty years ago. He came into this tavern, just like you and challenged me to a drinking competition. He held his liquor even better than you did. An incredible talent. He had guts and I admired that. But I didn’t think much of our encounter when he left the next day. Then he came back. He came back every time I stopped by the tavern, just to drink with me. Before I knew it, I started to look forward to his presence. I got worried if he came late or didn’t show up. Worried like one of Meroquio’s silly lovers.” She smiled fondly and shook her head. “I knew it was foolish to fall in love with a human, but the gods have a hard time explaining emotion. Even Viden and Kaval, the all-knowing twins, struggle with the concept. It’s . . . hard to grasp.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I murmured in agreement.

  “Anyway,” Laetatia bent down to get a glass from the cabinet and poured herself a drink. “We saw each other for three years afterward. Until the inevitable happened.” Laetatia downed her drink nearly in one gulp. “Has Itazura told you yet about the children of the gods?”

  “He says it can happen and you aren’t allowed to have contact with them if it does.” I raised an eyebrow. “Can female gods actually get . . . pregnant?”

  “If that’s what you want to call it,” Laetatia said. “It doesn’t exactly work the same way and I’m not going to get into the details. But either way it results in a child. The day I had that child, I had to sever all contact with the man. That’s the rule. If I tried to see him afterward, I’d risk running into the child. At least I could explain it to him when I gave him my daughter. He hasn’t been back to this tavern since.”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes I still look at the door even seventeen years later, and think he might waltz in and challenge me to a drinking competition.”

  “Do you know what happened to your daughter?” I asked.

  “Fortunately, she didn’t inherit any abnormal abilities. She just gained a great tolerance for drinking. Unusual but not strange enough to turn too many heads. I’ve seen her a few times since then, from a distance. She looks more like her father than me.” She poured herself yet another glass. “She has his silvery blonde hair and blue eyes. And his tolerance for alcohol.”

  “Silvery blonde hair. . . .” I whispered and my eyes widened. “S-Sylvia?”

  Laetatia stared at me. “Yes, that’s her name. How did you know?”

  I slumped against the couch in shock. “N-no way. Sylvia is your daughter.”

  Laetatia took a step forward. “You know Sylvia?”

  “Sylvia is my drinking buddy,” I whispered. “And she’s on my team.”

  “Your team,” Laetatia repeated. “The team in prison. The prison the wendigo hoard came through.”

  I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even nod. I could only stare at her. Apparently, that was enough because the glass slipped from her hand.

  “Where is Itazura?” she hissed.

  Interestingly enough, Itazura chose that exact moment to enter. “I heard breaking glass what–”

  He didn’t get any further. Laetatia seized him by the collar and slammed him up against the door, closing it with a bang in the process.

  “You damn bastard!”

  “What did I do?” Itazura asked, eyes wide with surprise and a little fear as well.

  “You left my daughter in that damn prison when you broke your human out.” Laetatia growled, jamming her face close to his. The lights in the room flickered in time with her words and the floor seemed to shudder beneath my feet. “My daughter. Wendigoes just raided that prison, so what do you think happened to her?”

  “Wait, I’m confused. Why was your daughter in prison?” Itazura stared.

  Laetatia’s fists tightened on his collar. “Because she was on Janet’s team.”

  A wide range of expressions crossed Itazura’s face in the span of a few seconds. First confusion. Then astonished realization. Then pale-faced terror.

  “I didn’t know–how was I supposed to know she was your daughter?”

  “I told you about her.”

  “Yeah, you told me she had a good tolerance for alcohol and she looked like her father. I never got to see the girl drink anything and I never met your human lover. So, how could I tell?”

  Laetatia’s grip tightened on his collar and I worried she might go for his throat next. Itazura couldn’t have known about Sylvia, but at the same time, Laetatia sort of had the right to kill him.

  At last, she released his collar and took a step back. “Damn it. Damn it all to the deepest reaches of the Abyss,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I should have kept better track of her.”

  “We’re not supposed to be involved in our children’s lives.” Itazura murmured. Now he just looked really guilty. “You couldn’t have–”

  “Involvement has nothing to do with it. I still should have kept an eye on her. She was one of the only children I ever had. Now her soul is probably trapped in some wendigo’s body.” Laetatia slumped against the wall. “Damn it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, staring down at my clenched fists. “I never knew. Sylvia and I were really close. She was . . . my best friend.”

  “You liked her?” Laetatia asked dully.

  “Who wouldn’t?” I said. “I don’t think I ever saw her get truly angry. Annoyed maybe, but that’s it. And she’s an amazing thief. Smart, too. A strategist at heart. She tried to get us to run when she got caught in the trap at Amontillado’s temple. She thought it was the smarter option. And she didn’t want us to get hurt.” I swallowed. “She was willing to sacrifice herself for us.”

  “But you didn’t,” Laetatia said.

  I shook my head. “Never.”

  “Thank you then.” Laetatia forced herself to straighten, though she still looked unnaturally glum. “I guess if I could pick a good friend for my daughter, it would be you. No wonder I like you so much.”

  I flushed at her thanks. I didn’t deserve it. Why did people keep thanking me when I didn’t deserve it?

  “Maybe we killed the wendigo who took her,” Itazura said. “Her soul could have been released.”

  “Doubt it,” Laetatia said. “We didn’t even kill most of them. Half of them disappeared, probably running back to the abyss where they belong.”

  “But it could have been fine,” Itazura said.

  “Stop it with your damn optimism, Itazura, I’m not in the mood.” Laetatia nudged the pieces of broken glass on the floor with the toe of her high-heeled shoe. “I need something stronger, if you don’t mind.”

  Itazura stepped out of her way as she went for the door. She slammed the door shut with a force that made the tavern shake.

  Itazura stared at the door for a long time before looking at me, still wide-eyed. “I really had no idea.”

  “Neither did I. I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all but when she described her, I just couldn’t help but say her name. I don’t know any other girl who shares Sylvia’s looks and talent for drinking.” I looked at the door. “Will she be all right?”

  “Sure,” Itazura said, though he looked a bit unconvinced. “Even if it takes a while. The good thing about being a god is you have nothing but time. Everything becomes insignificant after a while.” He cocked his head to the side. “Out of curiosity,
little human, how did the conversation come up?”

  “Um. . . .” I flushed and looked away as Laetatia’s words came back to me.

  I haven’t seen him so concerned over a human in a long time. Itazura usually isn’t one to let many things bother him.

  “Nothing,” I said. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re sure?” Itazura got an annoying grin on his face and leaned over the edge of the couch. “Why is your face red?”

  “My face isn’t red,” I said. “And we have more important things to be worrying about.”

  Itazura sighed. “I suppose.” He pushed himself off the couch–away from me, thank gods. His proximity had made my face a little hotter than I wanted it. “It will be difficult to locate Kalite. She’s usually pretty shy around humans and I’m not sure where she is at this moment. But if we do a little investigation work–”

  “Actually,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  “About what?” Itazura said.

  “Something Laetatia said got me thinking.” I threaded my fingers together. “About the gods and what they can and can’t explain. She mentioned there are some things only the Clockmaker knows. I think there are also some things only humans can really know too.”

  “What are you getting at, little human?” Itazura asked.

  “I want to talk to the wisdom twins.”

  If Itazura had been drinking something, he would have spat it out. “Did you hit your head yesterday, little human?”

  I sighed. I didn’t expect encouragement, but it would be nice if Itazura expressed a little confidence in me. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Then please, enlighten me,” Itazura said. “What is your reasoning behind this decision?”

  “If we can persuade Viden and Kaval to hear us out, then we’ve won,” I explained. “Because everyone listens to and respects them. You and Laetatia . . . that’s questionable.”

  “For someone who expressed gratitude to me a few hours ago, you sure are keen on keeping up your usual insults.”

  “You two are the gods of mischief and merriment,” I pointed out. “Neither of those things are very serious. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “All right, point taken,” Itazura said. “But how do you plan on persuading them.”

  “Just trust me,” I said. “I can handle it.”

  “Right,” Itazura said. “Trust a thief who calls me their patron god?”

  “I don’t always lie, as fun as it is,” I countered.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You were more awake last night than you let on.”

  I shrugged. “So, can you trust me to handle this situation? I exceeded your expectations with Laetatia didn’t I?”

  Itazura ran a hand over the back of his head. “You did,” he said grudgingly. “But. . . .”

  “But what?” I asked.

  “You do realize that if Viden and Kaval find out I’m part of this, which they will, and they don’t agree with what you’ve said, they will tell Mother and Father. It’s a big risk.”

  “No more of a risk than the one you took making a pact with me,” I said evenly.

  Itazura stared at me a long time.

  I threw up my hands. “Ugh, look, I know I’ve damned up a lot lately. Maybe I’m not the best human for this job. I’ve almost died several times and I couldn’t get Meroquio on my side. But I can do this. Just take me to see them. Trust me. I trusted you when I made this pact. You owe me that much. Please.”

  After what seemed like an eternity of no response, Itazura exhaled. “Fine, I’ll entertain this. After all, one of the reasons I made this pact with you in the first place was because you’re interesting. Let’s see what you have planned, shall we?”

  I sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Itazura said. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  I shrugged. “Seems to be a trend with my life lately. I’m getting used to the unexpected.”

  “Spoken like a true lover of mischief.” Itazura winked.

  I couldn’t help but grin in return, though heat filled my cheeks again. Among other unexpected things were the warm tingles in my chest whenever he looked at me like that.

  I guess at this point I just had to run with it.

  had only been to the center ring of Fortuna in the dead of night. That was the only time my team and I could sneak in to pull off our especially risky heists. Since our last heist on Amontillado’s temple hadn’t gone especially well, paranoia gripped me as I entered the center ring with Itazura.

  “If you keep on looking around like that you’re going to draw attention,” Itazura said without looking at me. “You need to master the art of being nonchalant.”

  “I am nonchalant,” I said. “I’ve just never been here during the day. People from the slums aren’t allowed to come here.”

  “You’re not from the slums,” Itazura said. “You’re a middle class dweller entering the center ring for reasons of business.”

  “I know my alibi thank you,” I grumbled.

  “Well then, start acting like you know it,” Itazura said. “Little human, if I’m going to trust you to convince the wisdom twins to help us spread the word, I have to trust you with blending in. It’s a basic quality of the mischievous. Doing questionable things while looking innocent.”

  “You don’t look innocent when you do mischievous things.” I pointed out.

  “Yes but I am a god and therefore I can do whatever I want,” Itazura countered.

  “Except for convincing other gods to side with you,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What was that, little human?”

  “Nothing.”

  The White Library was placed near the very center of Fortuna, where the buildings stretched several stories high and took all manners of strange shapes. That’s one of the best ways I can describe the center ring. Strangely shaped. The walls of buildings often ended up zigzagging or curving rather than just going straight up like any normal wall and the windows were nearly always triangles, circles or a strange combination of both.

  I suppose square windows weren’t eccentric enough for the rich residents. Even the clothing of those surrounding us took on a strange forms. Peculiar skirts jutting out in triangular figures, corsets shaped like steel hourglasses. How could this place exist in the same realm as the slums I had grown up in? In the slums, everyone valued practicality. This place strayed as far away from practical as possible.

  “I hate this place,” I muttered. “Hate the buildings. Hate the people. I’ll probably hate this stupid library.”

  “Well, I’d keep that to yourself if you meet the Wisdom twins,” Itazura said as we turned the corner. “But you can decide for yourself what you think of it.” He nodded ahead of us.

  I followed his gaze. And my jaw unhinged.

  The White Library itself stood before us, gleaming like a pearl amid gaudy jewelry. I had never seen such an extraordinary building in my life. The structure had elegance without being flashy and overstated. It may have been the simplest in structure in the entire center-ring. Its walls were straight and its roof was a typical pyramid shape.

  White columns made of marble stretched several stories high in the air, making me feel miniscule in comparison. Gold trimmed each wall and hundreds of figures and scenes were chiseled into the marble all over the building, at the top just under the roof, on the sides, on the columns themselves. I wasn’t even sure where to look. It was in no way boring. The door, two stories high and carved of ebony wood, still gave off a distinct scent, fresh as the forest to which it once belonged. It, too, was etched with scenes, but these seemed to be of people. Fifteen people in fact.

  “The Clockmaker is at the top.” Itazura pointed to the old man holding up a pocket watch. “Then Mother and Father below him. Then the rest of the twelve clockwork gods. See, they organize it just as we do, splitting us into three groups.” He pointed them out “The superior four, the semi-involved
four and the involved four. Nice isn’t it?”

  “That’s the best word you can think of to describe it? Nice?” I asked, craning my neck to better see the designs. “It’s amazing.”

  “I guess if you’re into knowledge.” Itazura shrugged.

  “You don’t have to be into knowledge. I’m not. But I’ve never seen anything like this building. I mean, I’ve seen it during the nighttime but never clearly. It just looked like a huge building. But this is . . . it’s. . . .”

  “Well, well,” Itazura said. “It appears the little human is for once at a loss for words.”

  “If only that could happen to you,” I retorted.

  “No. I’m afraid you’re stuck with the beautiful sound of my voice.”

  “Joy.”

  The library, being so massive, had many levels and halls to it. Honestly, the place seemed like a maze. The possibilities for exploration were endless. Up the stairs to the right, to the left, to the front, to the basement or just down the dozens of hallways branching off from the main room.

  “It’s said some people can spend all day in here and never reach the center,” Itazura said. “That’s how they designed the building. It’s easy to find your way to the exit but difficult to find the center where the wisdom twins often stay. Those who want to seek their council have to find the path.”

  “I hate mazes,” I muttered.

  “Ah, don’t worry little human,” Itazura said. “You have me to guide you. I have quite a bit of experience with mazes, and I know all the shortcuts.”

  We descended into the maze via one of the halls to the left. Books crammed every shelf, but as we weaved our way further into the labyrinth, the contents began to change. Slowly, clean, fancy new books became dustier and the paper seemed more fragile, as if they had been stained brown by whisky. Slowly but surely, cobwebs began to appear on the shelves and dust piled up to the point that if I accidentally brushed the book a cloud of earth sprang up, sending me into a coughing fit.