Black Warrior

by Jolie Jaquinta

Chapter 27 – The Old Fashioned Way

  Nocturne slowly emerged from the shadows in a dark recess in the Underground Troglodyte city called Frontgate. She stood quite still, against the roughhewn wall and took in her surroundings. The nook had been carved at some point during the haphazard construction of the city. It was clearly meant to be the start of something, but had ended up never going anywhere. It was just a convenient dead-end that she could emerge in, unnoticed. At the end it joined a more trafficked thoroughfare. There were dim lights from fungal plantings around thresholds. Passersby also carried lanterns to guide their way as their feet slapped on a floor worn smooth from use.

  She had shrunk from her divine size down to that of a common troglodyte, and wore a flowing caftan of dark silk with silver highlights. It was gathered at the waist and wrists in local fashion. Her face was brown and wrinkled, and wisps of thin grey hair showed under her felt hat. For her appearance, she had used some of her divine magic. But she was determined to pursue the rest of her little adventure using only her skills. Just as a point of pride.

  Picking her moment she sauntered from the alcove and blended into the traffic. No one noticed, or at least didn't make much of it. She moved along with the flow, not caring particularly much where she was going. She studied their stride, the body language, how far apart they liked to keep, and other nuances of expression. She smiled to herself, feeling the old habits return. This was good. She had gotten too soft in the divine realm.

  Pungent smells filled the air. A vendor was selling small bowls of thick stew from a stall. Nocturne stood in line and observed how people waited. How they paid. Where they kept their money. With a mimed coughing fit she lurched into a patron and relieved him of enough coinage to pay for a bowl.

  She stood with the others, eating quickly so they could return the bowls. It was spicy. Very spicy. Her eyes watered and she sucked her teeth, trying to will the burn away. But other patrons were also gasping, and stamping the ground with their feet. The cook called out some question and many of them laughed. She wasn't the only one who thought it was hot. The man whose money had paid for her food went to a little table, and filled up a glass from a pitcher and downed it. Her first bite had hit her stomach now and she quickly followed him. Better to forego the bravado and settle her stomach for the work ahead.

  There were a wide variety of markets and craft stalls along the passages. Nocturne was quite fascinated. Now was not the time to dawdle, but she noted several things that looked to be worth a return visit. Who knew there was all this in the Underground? She should definitely get out more.

  But her quarry was in sight now. An unpretentious shop front with a sign depicting a three eyed creature with tentacles, and numerous sigils carved around it. She walked pass three times to get a feel for the traffic, and then stopped. It was pretty quiet and dark once she shrouded the fungal planter with her cloak. The few locals who passed were very kind and carried glowing lights to announce their presence.

  She very gingerly tried the door, but it didn't open. From the way the latch moved, it felt to be a fairly simple one, with just a bolt holding it. More of a “please come back” rather than a “do not enter”. Nocturne pulled a small stiff wire from her voluminous sleeve and bent it into the required shape. Sliding it past the handle she felt it catch on the expected bolt. A few tugs and she felt the door loosen.

  She palmed a small mirror from her other sleeve, cracked the door open a smidge, and had a quick look. The lights were dim, and there was no sound or motion. Nodding, she slipped everything back into place, retrieved her cloak, and flexed her muscles. When she was sure no one was passing, she moved it open just enough for her to eel through, and slid it gently shut behind her, bracing herself in the door frame.

  Standing, spread-eagled in the doorway was not the most comfortable, but it gave Nocturne a chance to inspect the new environment. Cluttered shelves curved in all directions, with indirect lighting making a confusing play of shadows. Just about anything could be hidden anywhere. Tricky. But, thankfully, the floor between the shelves was bare rock. Other than right inside the entrance, where a muddy rag-rug lay.

  Nocturne squatted down, braced her hands against the solid rock floor she could see, and examined the rug closely. She smiled ruefully noticing a portion that slightly bulged, and a dirt colored brass tube leading under a bookshelf. She more firmly planted her hands, and then did a slow hand stand. The rug wasn't that big, so she just finished the somersault and stood past the threshold, in the shop proper.

  She moved through the shop, quietly and slowly, examining the shelves and items on them, without touching anything. The variety and novelty of the merchandise delighted her. It was altogether different from almost anything she had seen. Her fingers itched at one or two pieces but she reminded herself to stay focused on her goal.

  Toward what she guessed was the rear of the shop the tenor of the goods changed. They became more like an ordered library rather than a display case. Dim light came from one row which also had carpets on the floor. As Nocturne edged around the corner she saw an orc bent over a desk reading a large book. From her age, she assumed it was Penelope, rather than her mother. She smiled, crept forward as far as she dared, then nonchalantly leaned against a nearby shelf, causing it the creak.

  Penelope looked up suddenly, startled. She then marked her page, shut the book, and stood up holding a small pointed object in Nocturne's direction. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Penelope asked.

  Nocturne held up her hands, palms forward. “I'm just here to talk.”

  “You aren't a troglodyte”, said Penelope. Nocturne grinned. She let the divine magic fade away and flowed into her normal dark skinned, shadow cloaked form. “A human”, said Penelope.

  “Actually, a goddess”, corrected Nocturne.

  Penelope shrugged. “Same order. The shop is closed. Please leave. Now.”

  “Or what?” asked Nocturne. “You'll stab me? I'm a goddess. It takes a lot to hurt me.”

  “This isn't a blade”, said Penelope dryly. “It's a bulb full of powdered hydrangium. Its mere proximity, without this lead shielding, causes insanity and hallucinations. If you are unlucky enough to inhale it, it will probably be permanent. I'd rather not. A deranged goddess would make a mess of the shop.”

  “OK”, said Nocturne, taking a step back. “You got me there. Point to you. But I really do just want to talk.”

  “My grandmother is taking her rest right now”, said Penelope. “I will not permit her being disturbed.”

  “Then I'll talk quietly”, said Nocturne, lowering he voice. “It's you I came to talk to.”

  Penelope looked at her skeptically. But then she put the tube and bulb in a drawer, sat in her chair, and indicated a hassock. “And why, exactly, does a human goddess want to talk to me?”

  Nocturne nodded, then flowed forward and sank on to the stool. “You are a purveyor of information, are you not?”

  “No”, said Penelope. “That's my grandmother. I am a teacher, a dispenser of information.”

  “Perfect”, said Nocturne. “We find ourselves in strange times. Contrary to my usual nature, I'm not here to barter information but to give it away. And it concerns one of your pupils, teacher.”

  Penelope leaned forward. “Who is it, and why go through me?”

  “I'd really rather not get too close to someone whose mother makes a habit of killing gods”, said Nocturne.

  “Winter”, said Penelope.

  “Winter”, confirmed Nocturne.

  “Is this connected with whatever it is that shut down the Academy?” asked Penelope.

  “Most likely”, said Nocturne. “There's some very old dirty laundry of the gods that just floated to the top of the septic tank.”

  “Define very old”, said Penelope.

  “Two thousand years or so”, said Nocturne.

  “Ah”, said Penelope, “the early modern period.”

  Nocturne snorted. “Before my time, in any event. One
of the factions that have suddenly spewed across the land is from a place that doesn't exist anymore. A place called Norsland.”

  “Oh”, said Penelope, nodding. “The Great Betrayal of the Norslanders by the gods of Kemet, Romitu and Sindhu. This is then related to Othr being the last Norsland god and the father of Winter?”

  Nocturne stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why do I even bother?” she asked herself. “Here I am, goddess of the secrets of the night, breaking character to reveal information. And everyone knows it already!”

  Penelope nodded at the book on her desk. “It is a coincidence. I just happened to be reading about it before you came in.”

  Nocturne craned her neck to look at the book. “I am most curious about your book, then. And what other secrets it contains.”

  “It is my grandmother's. If you come back when the shop is open, perhaps you can barter a copy of it for a copy of your source of information.”

  “I beg your pardon?” asked Nocturne.

  “You just said that this happened before your time. Yet you have knowledge of it. What is the provenance of your information?” asked Penelope matter-of-factly.

  There was a long silence. Nocturne shook her finger at Penelope. “You are a formidable opponent”, she said, lightly.

  “I am a scholar”, said Penelope.

  Nocturne laughed quietly. “That's twice tonight you've got the better of me. I've got to do this mortal thing more often. Being divine has made me lazy.” She held up her hands. “Fair enough. Apparently not all of the first gods were oblivious of their 200 year amnesia. Turns out Grave Keeper worked it out fairly early on, and directed his most pedantic servants to take detailed records.”

  “And you... liberated these after he died in the god war?” asked Penelope.

  Nocturne cracked her knuckles. “That's who I am!” Then her expression became blank again. “Winter has ascended the throne of the Northern Seas. Do you know what that means?”

  “I have picked up a smattering of Undersea history. I know there are certain rights and titles that go with it”, said Penelope.

  “Given your dismissal of the gods, I suspect you haven't concluded that he's stepped into the shoes of a position held previously by a god. There are more than rights and titles involved.”

  “Are you saying that Winter is a god?” asked Penelope.

  “I remember being mortal”, said Nocturne. “That also means I remember becoming a god. It isn't a cut and dried thing. I just did what I did. Pulled my capers, cut a swathe through the underworld, retired and came out of retirement dozens of times. At some point I started to realize that the deference people gave me was more than just respect. I could hear them. And I could act on their behalf. They were praying and I was creating miracles.”

  “I know Winter would rather be at classes in the Academy”, said Penelope. “But his sense of duty keeps him in the Undersea. Is this the start of it?”

  “Yes”, said Nocturne. “But it is more complicated than that.” She shifted on the hassock. “I was lucky. I filled a niche and it just happened to be what I was, because I created it. Winter has stepped into someone else's shoes. This god thing works both ways. People worship you for what you are. But, you also tend to become what people worship. Their worship generates mana, but you can only use it if you truly represent what they worship. It many ways your worshipers mold who you are. Do you see where this is going?”

  “You are saying that the longer Winter is on the throne, the more he will truly become the Surge of the Ocean”, said Penelope. “That he will more than identify with the sea people, but become one of them.”

  “In time, yes”, said Nocturne. “If things were left to go the normal course.” She shook her head. “But things are not going the normal course.”

  Penelope considered. “I'm sorry”, she said at last. “You have now got the better of me. I don't know where you are going.”

  “One of the tribes of Forsaken, that have broken from The Black Hole, fought, died, and where punished for two thousand years for their service to Othr”, Nocturne said slowly. “Othr's soul now resides in Winter. Winter has taken the first steps towards becoming a god. And now he suddenly has a whole bucket of new worshipers. Bloodthirsty, vengeful, battle crazed, very, very, very strong willed new worshipers. “

  Penelope swallowed. “I think I begin the grasp the import of what you are saying.”

  “Good”, said Nocturne. “Then I can count on you to impart to him how serious this is?”

  “Absolutely”, said Penelope.