Petty Pewter Gods gf-8

by Glen Cook

  "Yo, Beetle."

  The proprietor glanced up from his mug polishing. "Garrett! You son of a bitch, where the hell you been? You ain't been in here in three months."

  "Been working too hard. Don't get time to get over here the way I used to."

  "I've heard some stories. I never believed them."

  "The truth is worse than anything you've heard."

  I took a pint, sucked down a long swallow, started telling him what had happened the past day and a half.

  "Hope you brought a pitchfork, Garrett."

  "Huh?"

  He pretended to examine the soles of his shoes. "If you don't have a pitchfork, I'm going to make you clean that bullshit out of here with your bare hands."

  He didn't believe me.

  "I have a hard time believing it myself, Beetle. I wish I could introduce you to those owl sisters."

  "My wife would never understand."

  "Where the hell is everybody? I haven't seen the place this dead since Tommy Mack's wake."

  "Weather."

  Something was bothering him. "That all?"

  He leaned closer. "Big part of it is, The Call won't put me on their approved list. Account of I let nonhumans drink here."

  Only dwarves and ratmen do much drinking. And the dwarves tend to keep it at home.

  I don't like ratmen much. I had to work to find the charity to say, "Their money is no different color than anyone else's."

  "There's scary stuff getting ready to happen, Garrett."

  I touched my cheek where the sleet had bitten me. "How right you are, without knowing the half. What's ready to eat?"

  He had drawn me another mug of the dark. I dropped a groat onto the counter. That would serve us both for a while.

  "Specialty of the house. Sausage and kraut. Or sausage and black beans. Or, the missus made a kidney pie nobody's touched but old Skidrow yonder." He indicated the least respectable of his few customers.

  "Where's Blowmetal?" Skidrow was half of the only pair of identical twin winos I'd ever seen.

  Beetle shrugged. When his shoulders came up like that, you could see why the nickname. Back when he was a lot heavier it had fit much better. "Heard they had a fight. Over a woman."

  "Shit. The guy is a hundred and twelve."

  "That's in street years, Garrett. He's only a little older than you are."

  I finished my mug, pushed it over for a refill. "Give me the sausage and kraut. And remind me not to get so far down on my luck that I've got to live like a ratman."

  Beetle chuckled as he started digging around in a pot. He gave me an extra sausage. Both looked a little long in the tooth. They had been in the water a long time.

  "Hey, Garrett. Don't get down on your luck. And try to turn the beer-drinking back into a hobby. Or you might get there."

  "What's this about The Call? They trying to work the protection racket on you?"

  "They don't call it that, but that's what it amounts to." He plopped a couple of boiled potatos on the plate on top of the kraut.

  "I know somebody who might get them off your back." That was just the kind of thing Relway and his secret police liked to bust up, and I had no love for The Call.

  "Appreciate it." Beetle turned to hand me my plate. His gaze went over my shoulder. His face turned pale.

  45

  I turned.

  A cascade of black paper was fluttering through the doorway, buoyed by no obvious wind. Through that came a huge dog, tongue dangling a foot, eyes burning red. A second dog followed, then Black Mona herself, bearing up well under the weight of all those weapons.

  "What did you do now?" Beetle croaked.

  He could see them?

  "Who, me?"

  "They ain't after me, Garrett."

  "Yeah. You're right."

  The doorframe behind Quilraq began to glow golden.

  Shadows crept in. Good old Torbit was here, too. Maybe it was a Shayir family reunion.

  Had they whipped the Godoroth?

  I started wolfing kraut and sausage. The Shayir glared at me.

  Beetle filled my mug. "What are those things?"

  "You really don't want to know." He was a religious man. He would not want to think ill of the gods.

  Cold air blasted through the doorway.

  Blur. Black Mona staggered. Her hounds yipped. Quilraq rustled. Jorken materialized in front of me. He was not in a good mood. What a day he must have been having. He grabbed me by the shirt and tossed me over his shoulder.

  The side wall of Beetle's place exploded inward. Daiged, Rhogiro, and Ringo charged through. I thought that now Beetle would have to believe my story.

  Imar himself followed the flying wedge of double uglies, baby lightnings prancing in his hair. His eyes were not pleasant when they touched me, but his immediate attention belonged to the Shayir.

  "Run for it, Beetle." As Jorken turned, though, I discovered that Beetle was prescient. He had taken my advice before I offered it.

  Jorken sprinted through the hole opened by the ugly boys. Egad, we could have used a few like them down in the islands. The war wouldn't have lasted nearly so long.

  The air ripped past so fast I could hardly snatch bites out of it. Light sleet was falling steadily. That dark coach loomed out of the night. Abyss, that darkness in darkness, stared down as Jorken tossed me inside without bothering to open the door. I picked up fresh scrapes on the window edges. I got a pat on the cheek from Magodor before she dismounted from the far side. Her tenderness was false. She was in full Destroyer avatar. She hurried off to do whatever she did. Jorken went with her.

  I was alone. With Star. Who had what it would take to make a statue stand up and listen. The coach started moving. So did Star. That gal knew her business.

  This insanity certainly did have its moments. The bad part was putting up with what went on in between. Star relented after I begged for mercy. She settled opposite me, gloriously disheveled. She giggled like the last thing you could expect to find in her head was a thought. Every boy's dream.

  I was tying my shoes when the horses screamed and something ripped the top off the coach.

  "Damn!" I said. "Now for more of that stuff in between."

  I flung myself out a door, into the cold. I rolled in sleet half an inch deep. A stray thought: What had become of the Goddamn Parrot?

  Not far away, Abyss was pulling himself back out of the hole in a wall through which he had been thrown.

  He was not pleased. The darkness within his hood was deeper than ever. Maybe the madder he got the more fathomless the nothingness there grew.

  The right rear wheel of the coach collapsed. The nearest side door flopped open. In a sort of ghost glow I saw Star still sitting there jaybird, grinning, totally pleased with herself.

  Time for Garrett to get in some more exercise.

  Abyss moved to intercept me. Something whooshed through the night, slammed him through the air. He smashed into another wall. Business would be great for the brickyards tomorrow.

  Abyss slid down, did not bounce back up. So. Even a god can go down for the count.

  I heard the approach of heavy wings. Lila and Dimna dropped out of the night, became their charming girl selves. "It worked!" one piped. She started toward me like she had that old wickedness in mind. The other one clambered into the coach and planted a distinctly unsisterly kiss upon Star's lips. Star snuggled right up.

  Golden light rippled through the night. Shadows pranced. Faun guy Torbit coalesced. He seemed baffled. "Stop that! All of you. Trog. Grab him and get out of here." Torbit and Star looked at one another. I had a feeling they would not stick to business long. Make love, not war.

  The humongous guy with the club and divinely potent body odor came close enough to be seen. Chunks of coach still stuck to his weapon. He grabbed me up like a little girl grabs a doll. It took me only a moment to discover that struggling was futile.

  I was not real happy. It had been one damned thing after another. And now sleet was get
ting down the back of my neck.

  46

  It didn't do any good to get mad. I wasn't going to kick any divine butts. The one weapon I had in this scrap lay between my ears, and it hadn't been real deadly so far.

  I don't like whiners and excuse-makers, but... it's hard to think when you're getting lugged around in one humongous hand, hardly gently. With hailstones hitting you in the face and sliding inside your clothing.

  The bizarre weather had to be connected with the solid materializations of all these divinities. Maybe that required pulling the warmth right out of the mortal plane.

  If only we could get the effect under control and harness it for use during high summer, I could make my fortune. How could I work a partnership deal with a god?

  The big guy stopped walking. He began turning in place. Zoom! I saw why. Old Jorken was on the job, circling us. Poor Jorken. He'd had a rough day. If I was him I would demand a raise. Boom! Down came that tree of a club. It bashed a hole in the street. Jorken missed getting splattered by barely half a step.

  I had an idea. I decided to put it to work before it got lonely. The Godoroth knew where I was, anyway.

  I worked Magodor's cord loose from my waist. That was a real adventure, what with the big guy prancing around trying to get a solid whack at Jorken. I stretched an inch of rope out to four feet, tied a bowline, made the loop for getting invisible with the stretched section and got my feet worked through it all while being flailed around by the dancing giant. I saw scores of faces at windows, being entertained. I hoped nobody out there recognized me.

  Trog's club flailed. A water trough exploded. A porch collapsed. Jorken stayed a step ahead. It was plain he was keeping the big guy in one place till slower Godoroth could catch up.

  I wiggled until I got the invisibility loop over my top end, too, then continued to work the loop around so I could tighten it around the big guy's wrist. Then I stroked the cord the way Maggie had shown me, so it would shrink back to normal.

  Old Trog froze, looked startled, then produced an all-time bellow of amazement and pain. And I splashed into the inch of melting sleet and hail masking some of TunFaire's more rugged cobblestones. The big guy's severed hand scrambled around inside the sack of invisibility with me.

  That hand would not stop, I guess because it had been nipped off an immortal. I slithered to the side of the street, hoping my trail would not be too obvious. But nobody had much attention left over for me. Trog was in a real fury now. Jorken had a full-time job staying out of his way. Trog's club swished close enough to make him dizzy.

  I wormed into a shadow and started sliding out of that sack. No need to tell anybody which way I was headed.

  Jorken noticed me as I kicked Trog's hand away from me. He lost his concentration for an instant as he turned my way.

  Wham! Trog gave new meaning to the expression "pound him into the ground." He was winding up for another swing when last I saw him.

  I got the hell out of there fast.

  Daiged and Rhogiro arrived just as I did my fade. Then the masonry really started to fly.

  Something flapped past. I dodged, afraid I had an owl girl after me. "Awk!" The flyer smacked into a brick wall. "This thing cannot see in the dark." Flap-flap. "Garrett?"

  "Where the hell have you been?" I felt around till I found the bird. It was really dark out now.

  "You lost me when you stopped to eat. I had to tend to business elsewhere. I returned to a situation fraught with anticipation. As I flew up to reconnoiter it, the excitement began in earnest. I managed to trace you by staving close to the ugly one."

  I muttered something about pots and kettles, got the critter installed on my shoulder, and resumed moving.

  "Gotten real exciting, hasn't it?"

  "They have begun to indulge in brutal destruction, like petulant children. Make for the park. And do move faster if you wish to get away."

  "I can't go any faster." I was slipping and sliding all over, barely keeping my footing. The water under the sleet had frozen into a treacherous glaze.

  And then it started to snow.

  Snow leaves great tracks—unless it comes down real heavy. It began to look like this was just the night for that.

  Another big blockbluster of a battle shaped up behind us. The gods shrieked and squawked like divine fishwives.

  "I need warmer clothes," I said. "I'm going to freeze my butt off."

  "You can afford to lose some of it. Head for the park. Miss Cat should meet us there. She will take us to safety." The bird was shaking too.

  The snowfall lessened as we distanced ourselves from the battle, where thunder and lightning had begun to lark about. In fact, for a while that got so enthusiastic I figured Imar and Lang must be working it out god to god.

  Them dancing gave us a chance to grab a new lead.

  "I don't got much go-power left," I whimpered at the Goddamn Parrot as I stumbled into the park. The snow there was ankle deep and rising fast, but there was no ice or sleet underneath. It had to be real nasty back where it all started.

  A breeze was rising, speeding toward the center of conflict. It slammed snowflakes into my face. They were big wet ones. I muttered and cursed. The Goddamn Parrot, just to be difficult, cursed and muttered. I trudged in what I guessed to be the general direction of the place where Cat had landed before. I couldn't tell anything for sure. It was darker than the inside of a shylock's heart.

  47

  "Garrett! Over here!"

  Cat. I turned my head right and left to get a sense of her direction. I caught a toe on something, tumbled into a low place where snow had gathered eight inches deep. The Goddamn Parrot cussed me for being clumsy.

  Cat appeared out of the milky shower. "Here." She offered me a blanket. I noticed that she was dressed for the weather. Which suggested she had an idea what was going on. But I didn't get a chance to ask. "Get up!" she barked. "We have to hurry. Come on! Some of them are on your trail again."

  Her name was apt. She could see in the dark. She seemed to have trouble hearing in the dark, though. My "What the hell is going on?" fell into the snow without so much as a muted thump.

  Cat led me about a hundred yards at right angles to my previous course. And there stood all her winged sidekicks, muttering seditiously amongst themselves. The weather didn't seem to bother Fourteen. The horses awarded me equine looks more laden than usual with the semi-intelligent malice of their tribe. But we did have something in common at last. They weren't happy about being out here, either.

  "Shake your tail, Sugar Hips. Ya got bottom feeders headed your way."

  I got a look at Cat's crew because way up in the snow clouds a pinpoint of light brighter than any noonday sun had popped and had taken a dozen seconds to fade away.

  Cat helped me mount one of her beasts. It seemed to be the same one as before. And, behold! For the second time running I managed to get on top facing the same direction he was. It was an age of great wonders.

  The Goddamn Parrot wanted to say something but couldn't squeeze it out. He couldn't control his shivering. Parrots are not meant for cold weather. I tucked him inside my blanket. He slithered around till he found a way inside my shirt. Then he settled down to shiver and mutter to himself.

  "Cat, will you please tell me... "

  Somewhere a wolf howled. Somewhere something named Nog polished its only thought. I didn't catch Cat's shout, but it was no answer.

  The horses started to run. My blanket flapped in the wind. I held on with my legs while I tried to get myself wrapped again. I was shaking beyond all hope of control. It couldn't be long before the cold caused irreversible damage.

  Fourteen zoomed past, bumblebee wings humming. "Grab your ass, Slick." He giggled. The bottom fell out.

  My mount had run off the end of something again. Its huge wings extended, beat the flake-filled air. The cold breeze roared past, not quite as chilly now. I started to worry about frostbite but soon had trouble keeping a sharp edge on my thoughts.

 
Fourteen buzzed around running his mouth till even my ride got fed up and tried to take a bite out of him as he zipped past. A couple of cherub feathers whipped past me. Fourteen squealed and headed for Cat, plopping down into her lap.

  Another one of those incredibly bright points of light popped over the north side of TunFaire. There was too much snow to tell anything else about it. I was trapped in a cold bubble in a sea of milk.

  That flash made the flying horses whinny in dismay. They redoubled their efforts to gain altitude. Fourteen started cussing. Cat asked him what was going on. The horses turned directly away from the flash. Cat's mount drifted away from mine.

  Curious. But I didn't have much hope of finding out what was going on. Everybody was giving me the mushroom treatment, keeping me in the dark and feeding me horse manure.

  It all had to do with the feud going on back there, of course.

  Something came down from the north and passed between my mount and Cat's. It went by too fast to see, arriving with a hiss, then leaving a baby thunderclap to mark its passing.

  The horses yelped and tried desperately to get going faster.

  Did my honey shout an explanation across, just in case it would help me stay alive? Sure she did. Right after she told me the guaranteed-to-win numbers I ought to bet in the Imperial Games.

  I discovered that our course was southward because we arose above thinning clouds. I made out what had to be the Haiden Light at Great Cape, downriver thirty miles, south of town. We were way up high now, moving fast—and finding warmer air quickly, thanks to no gods. A little thumbnail clipping of a moon lay upon the eastern horizon, smiling or smirking.

  I looked over my shoulder. TunFaire lay under an inverted bowl of clouds that flickered and glowed. Serpents of mist writhed upon the surface of the bowl and gradually sank toward the epicenter beneath.