"I would love for that to come as a surprise,” Milost said, shaking his head, "but it doesn't. I don't even think it's the alignment that draws her so; I think it's simply the power she wants, and there are fewer outside voices to contend with on the side of evil,” he replied.
May stepped forward, "She obviously doesn't understand the hierarchy in the lawful evil realm. But I don't think she plans to stay there long.”
"What do you mean?” I asked.
"All of her students she's lined up, beginning with Lasca. She plans to supplant a portion of the Lower Planes to make her own pantheon. With élois and the Black King locked in combat, no one is watching the proverbial henhouse. And with the eternal war being waged between demons and devils, she has carte blanche to do so as she wills.”
It was slowly gaining clarity in my head, “You think all of this is Carca's idea?"
“No, she is the tool. I think one of the other evil gods or devils is the ultimate culprit."
“Why would you rule out the Black King in the role?" I wondered.
“I may guess wrong," she said, “but he is a young god and the move seems too bold. If he fails, it's eternity in the Flat Fields.
“To me," I replied, “that seems like something I wouldn't put past him. Gambling it all for an immeasurable reward. His ego is astounding."
To Janiver, I asked “Have you any ideas at all on the matter, Janiver?"
As she typically did when given the spotlight, she chuckled nervously.
“I don't think the idea I have will be very popular, Your Majesty. In fact, I'm certain it won't be.”
"Well, let's have it. There are no bad ideas right now. Everything must be on the table.”
"And we'll see if you don't change your mind quickly, Sire.”
She cleared her throat and straightened her back.
"We need to fight them on their own field of battle. I can make that happen. I don't know, however, the far reaching consequences.”
May interrupted, "Speak plainly, Girl. You're talking in riddles.”
"Very well, My Queen, we must fight gods with gods. We must become gods to meet their challenge. Is that plain enough?”
There was general laughter around the room though not of a derisive sort. It was a nervous laughter.
May looked to me then asked Janiver, “You're being serious, Janiver? Making us gods?”
"Well, of a sort, Your Majesty. I'm speaking specifically of making you demigods. There would be no return once you've ascended. But this is the only plan I've been able to formulate that could guarantee success. And I say ‘ guarantee’ as a qualifier because I honestly don't know how far I can push these theories.”
"Is it possible, then?” I asked incredulously.
"We've seen it happen, Your Majesty, witnessed it ourselves. The only questions are of an ethical nature and of a personal nature for those put through the Ascension.”
"You mean in as far as would I like to be immortal?”
"Yes, Your Majesty. And in turn, be responsible for the safety of many thousands of people in addition to being the patron of some nominal aspect of the life of a sentient being.”
I looked to May, unable to put words to my thoughts. Eternity with her seemed like a good idea.
"Would this spoil your plans for getting rid of your flower quickly, My Love?”
"If having you forever was an option, My Prince, I would trade my soul for it.”
Janiver obviously hated to interrupt, but she had other issues to bring before us.
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“It couldn't be just the two of you. You won't have full godhood. You may in the future but this requires speed. I think Margrin, Count Pelisir, myself, and one other female will be needed. I would nominate Shindur, the White King's Warlock in Moss City, or Brevid of the Sand Elves. Preferably her; she is a better known commodity.”
"This is a lot to put on our plates on short notice, Wizard,” I quipped. "Pelisir, Margrin, are you agreeable with this? Do you understand the ramifications?”
Pelisir joked, "It wouldn't be much different for me, and I wouldn't require a female consort if that's what that discussion is about."
Janiver inserted herself, “It's not set in stone that Margrin and I are to be together, Count."
Margrin went red-faced. "If it's a duel you want, Pelisir!"
Pelisir remained still. “I have no designs on a woman, or man for that matter. I've been married to my duties for so long, I haven't even considered it. But you can calm yourself Margrin; I wouldn't interfere there and there's obviously a spark between the two of you. I'll leave the debate over who the additional god is to the royals.”
Pausing for a moment, he added, "And, Margrin, if ever you should be faced with the choice to keep your mouth shut or test my blade, choose the former. We can be friends if you learn to control yourself.”
Margrin gave a slight bow at the waist and said,
"My sincerest apologies, Count Pelisir. I mean that. It was an irresponsible folly on my part to challenge you, and I thank you for staying your blade. I just have very strong feelings for the Lady Janiver.”
"Aaaaand, next on the agenda," Janiver spoke, blushing terribly, “we need to bring Father Vastil and Mother Felistia in on this whole discussion. I'm still not dismissing them as choices for godhood as well. And speaking of godhood, we need to try to run all of this by élois. He can say yay or nay to the whole venture."
I asked Janiver, “We're talking about doing actual combat with immortals, right?”
"Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”.
"That's putting it mildly. But my main question is what happens to the defeated in a god war?”
"According to legend, Your Majesty, the loser is condemned to wander the Flat Fields for ten years unless they can befriend Ranzir or Fantilli. That of course gives good gods a decided advantage. Then they reinhabit their mortal bodies for as long as it takes to regenerate their strength. It could be one year, it may be ten or twenty. With a dedicated mate, the speed is doubled, even trebled in some instances. But I think that's not what you're ultimately asking?”
"That answered a lot, but, yes, how does the defeated stay defeated?”
I was so glad in that moment that we had Janiver rather than ?rdelon. Her patience and ability to explain these inexplicable things was invaluable.
"You've heard, I'm sure, stories of gods being trapped for a thousand years as a punishment for evil they've committed. That works both ways. But ultimately, you create a pit of immeasurable depth and cover it with an iron seal inscribed with the appropriate glyphs and sigils. You post a celestial to guard the thing and, unless they're broken out by allies, they get out in a thousand years ready to wreak havoc and avenge their imprisonment.”
From out of nowhere Ranji asked, “And what of me? It seems as if my importance here lessens the more you speak.”
"Oh, you're still important, my young man,” Janiver answered, “unfortunately, we'll be needing your blood when the time comes to take down the Black King.”
"I will not consent to being a sacrifice in your games of gods!”
Janiver sought to calm the boy,
"You misunderstand. We won't need much. Certainly not enough to harm you. And your place in all of this is far from settled. As it stands now, you'll be treated like a prince. Never wanting for anything, possibly in line for godhood yourself if it is in the people's interest. We'll train you for whatever lies ahead.”
It didn't take long for Ranji to weigh his previous fourteen years with what lay ahead and find the past lacking.
“If you wish to be a Bard,” May said, “we have the finest Bard Colleges in the land. The only difficulty for you, Ranji, and I'm afraid this may endure for a little while, is that we must keep you hidden. There are too many death squads looking for you right now.”
The boy was crestfallen, but the look of appreciation on his face was visible. He had nowhere else to turn without us and every direction led to his demise.
“We'll meet back in our quarters after we sup this evening," May announced, “the Prince and I need to meet with Father Vastil and Mother Felistia promptly. Hopefully we can contact élois through them. Ranji, go with Janiver and Margrin. You two get him settled in. Safest room you can find and I want round the clock guards. If he must sleep with one or both of you, so be it."
Taking me by the hand, May guided me from the room and swiftly down the stairs.
“Tendil, let's have a bite to eat before we meet with the holies, I feel faint, I'm so hungry.”
"I hadn't thought of it, Darling, but I don't recall my last meal."
We saw Waldinor heading our way and halted him.
"Are you feeling better, Waldinor?” May asked.
"Yes, Your Majesty, much, I must say!”
"Excellent! Go to the kitchen and have them make us some watercress and cucumber sandwiches with a tea service if …” she saw the look on my face, "and some penny loaves with cheese and a potato soup. Yes, that should do it. Bring them to us in the conservatory. Run along now!”
"Yes, Your Majesty!” he sang out and ran for the kitchens.
“In the mood for some music?" I asked.
“In the mood for some serenity, My Love. I feel as if all the world has needed my attention these last several days and I just want a quiet moment with you."
When we arrived, I told her, "This is the room where I first truly met Margrin. The woman there is the same cellist that was here that day. He directed her like the conductor of a symphony.”
I had to smile. “I had so thoroughly misjudged the man.”
"When your reputation is that of a killer and Syndicate figure, what do you expect? Like him you may, but his works are still despicable.”
"I don't know, May. Now that I see his side of the tale with greater clarity, I feel differently. Those aren't innocent people he's killed. Just like killing a soldier from an opposing army, they've signed up for it. Well, except the Swalesians.”
When Waldinor returned, we ate quietly and listened to the beautiful resonating cry of the solo instrument in a room designed specifically for it and played with masterful hands.