by
Marc H. Wyman & Chris Bogues
“Open
up!” Taurkémad yelled and banged her fists against the gate of the
Eternal City. “Haguen, where are you? Move your bum feet and let me
in!”
She
kicked the gate, but it didn’t budge. The wood glowed in darktime. It
had never done so before, and unwillingly Taurkémad had to admit that
Maidoyú had spoken the truth. The Eternal City was shut down. She
hadn’t been able to go straight to her home. A force tasting of Haguen
had repelled and deposited her before the gate.
“Open
up!” she repeated, angry and frustrated. It had been a very long time
since her body had last hurt as it did now. She couldn’t remove the
pain. Taking a different form didn’t solve the problem, either. The pain
was in her self, and now she wanted to get back to her own bed, lie down
and try to forget that Maidoyú – Maidoyú! – had defeated her
so easily.
The
gate still didn’t move. Taurkémad twisted her fingers and sent a bright
orange light up, flaring into a golden shower along with thunderous noise.
That should wake Haguen up. Where was he anyway? Didn’t he stick around
the gate at darktime, too? Most of the time, anyway.
She
rubbed her side. The pain receded for a moment, but the instant she let go
of the side, it returned at full strength. How could Maidoyú have hurt
her like that? The insignificant little goddess who had been little better
than a pest?
Finally
a noise came from behind the gate. Taurkémad stretched her body, tried to
appear undisturbed. When the gate slowly opened and Haguen peered through
the slit, his halberd ready, she realized that her attempts were in vain.
“What
happened to you?” the guardian god asked with raised eyebrows.
“Nothing,”
Taurkémad muttered. “Step aside, all right?”
Haguen
pulled the gate back wide enough for her to pass through. “You were gone
for several days. Much has changed here, you –“
“I
know!” Taurkémad shouted, slipped by the god and started for her home.
She
had taken a few steps only when Decirius appeared before her. “Have you
found the dwarves?” he asked calmly.
Taurkémad
shuddered, remembering how awful the little beings now were. “Yes, I
have. Can I –“
“Are
they fine?” Decirius continued.
Her
eyes widened, her breath quickened. “They’re –“ she started
angrily, then cut herself off. “They’re fine. You were right. Leave
them in the mortal world, that’s the thing.”
Decirius
nodded, then looked over her shoulder and ordered Haguen to close the gate
again. The goddess stared at the chief god. Should she tell him about the
dwarves? After all, Decirius had taken charge of them.
No,
she decided quickly. If Decirius had taken care of them rather than merely
charge, none of this would have happened. The dwarves would still be her
little ones, still in their cave, and she would never have been hurt by
Maidoyú. “If there isn’t anything more, I’ll be going,” Taurkémad
said.
The
chief god studied her with his darktime eyes for a moment – only to
vanish suddenly.
Taurkémad
frowned. “He could have said something,” she muttered.
“Our
lord has much to think about these days,” Haguen noted. “You’re
hurting, Taurk. Please, let me take you home.”
“I
can walk!” Taurkémad protested.
“Then
I will accompany you,” the guardian stated and waved his hand ahead.
Unwillingly,
she muttered, “Whatever.”
Haguen
had stayed with her throughout the night. In the morning he had conjured
up a meal for her, a selection of jungle fruits. She had stared at the
fruits as if they were obscenities. Too fresh were the memories of the
jungle where she had seen her dwarves. No, the dwarves. They
weren’t hers anymore.
The
guardian god had seemed to sense her discomfort, so he’d replaced the
fruits with steaming vegetables from a different climate, and with a sigh
Taurkémad had eaten them. Then Haguen had spoken to her a bit, about
insignificant little things like the burning sun or the system of winds on
the mortal world.
She’d
claimed to be very tired. Haguen had understood immediately and left,
probably for his post at the gate. He was like that, after all. He
wouldn’t open the gate, but he’d have to stand close to it during the
day.
Taurkémad
had looked about her home. There had been all the creations of the
dwarves, the statues, the friezes, the small, symbolic carvings. At one
point she had loved them so much that she had taken them from the cave to
look at them every day. Now, though, she had not been able to bear
watching them.
So
she’d mustered her strength – strange that she had so little left –
and turned them into slag, melting them on the spot, then throwing them
out of her home onto the street before it. Without them her house looked
empty. Taurkémad decided that she liked it that way, then she settled
down in a corner, staring at the emptiness.
After
a while she became aware of a presence outside. Another god was near the
trash, and he wouldn’t go away. She tried to ignore the god, focused her
stare, then launched a lightning bolt at the nearest wall. The tiny sparks
coming from her fingers only disheartened her more. She closed her eyes
for a moment, then got up and walked to the entrance.
The
first thing she saw outside was a small orange creature climbing the pile
of slag. A… a cat? Yes, that was the name. The race lived only in the
midrealm, a constant source of prey and confusion. She had never paid them
much heed, but what was one doing here? More than that, why was it on her
slag?
“Hello,
Kemad!” Shenaumac greeted her.
Taurkémad
blinked. She’d forgotten about the god’s presence for a moment.
“What are you doing here?” she muttered.
The
God of Sharpened Things smiled. “I heard you were back. You’re
redecorating your place?”
“Shut
up.”
“Oh,
come on, Kemad, I was only trying to start a conversation.” Shenaumac
rolled his eyes, while his arms grew longer and picked the cat from the
pile it was sniffing. “Can Tiger and I come inside?”
Taurkémad’s
grip on the door tightened. “No. I want to be alone.”
The
cat struggled against the god’s hands for a while, before it relented
and started making a soft noise. Shenaumac looked down at it, shrugged and
stroked its head gently. “Tiger, Tiger, you’re a selfish one, aren’t
you?” he whispered.
Taurkémad
frowned. “It follows your lead, that’s all, Shen.”
The
god raised his head a bit and smiled. “You’re right. He’s a good
student, aren’t you, Tiger? Yes, you are, believe me.”
“He?”
Taurkémad asked bitterly. “You’re growing too attached to the
animal.”
“Perhaps
I am,” Shenaumac shrugged. “Well, we all have our pets. You take care
of them, and they’ll give you joy in return.”
“Until
somebody takes the pet away.”
Shenaumac
frowned. “Yes,” he said after a moment, “Tirspie tried that a few
days ago. She didn’t like Tiger one bit, the spoilsport. Sometimes I
wonder if she’s taken every creature in the universe as her pet, or if
she minds somebody else having fun.”
Taurkémad
didn’t answer. The cat raised its chin, and Shenaumac obliged it by
scratching under its head. “I guess it’s the latter. Before the gate
was closed, Tirspie destroyed a couple of the villagers’ houses in the
midrealm. You know, she probably did that just because Lonapal’s taken a
liking to them. Can’t have anyone be having fun while Tirspie is feeling
miserable.”
“She
always feels miserable.”
He
smiled. “Yes, she does, doesn’t she? Tirspie should get a pet of her
own, instead of tampering with other gods’ pets.”
Taurkémad’s
gaze suddenly intensified, shifting from the god’s face to the cat
nestled in his arms. She didn’t say anything, but her mind was starting
to run through thoughts in quick succession.
Suddenly
she stepped back and smashed the door shut. The noise echoed through the
street, rousing the cat from its near-slumber.
Shenaumac
grinned, hoisted the cat on both hands and touched its nose, watching its
eyes with glee. “Who’s following whose lead, Tiger? We’re on our own
road to greatness, aren’t we?”
The
cat mewed uncomfortably.
“All
right, Tiger,” Shenaumac relented and let the cat back on the ground to
roam the slag again. “Enjoy yourself!”
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