Vetinari did wish the girl was not so touchy about such things. The mutterings on either side of the room had her on edge. What did she care what a room full of fanatics thought of her? Though, he amended, considering the effect their belief was having on him, perhaps she was correct to care.
"You seem to have caused a schism, my dear," he said dryly.
Her head snapped up. "What," she said slowly, "Did you just call me?"
"Ah," he said. "The Sacred Seeds – I mean, the beans, are well, then?"
"Given the situation, who really cares?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Are you all right?"
"It would seem that such concentrated belief in my…ah, immortal status is having a rather odd effect on me. And," he added, glancing in turn at either side of the room, "It would seem that the conflicting theories about your presence are all that is keeping me from being plunged completely into this charade."
"That would be the schism?" she asked, gritting her teeth.
"Yes."
"Wonderful." She was obviously struggling between several questions. "Do you know," she said at last, reaching out a hand to steady herself on his chair. There was a sound of adoration from the right side of the room. It occurred to Vetinari that, short of trying to climb onto a horse, he had never seen the girl off balance before. "Why I can be seen, despite my attempts to the contrary?"
"As far as I can fathom, they see you as mortal, not endowed with any divine powers." He looked down at the empty mug in his left hand and wished that it was once again filled with rich, brown liquid. To his mild surprise, coffee sloshed back into the mug. There were, apparently, advantages to being a god. "And, despite your apparent efforts otherwise, they feel that you should be visible."
"And what, exactly, is the debate?" Debate? Ah, of course, the schism.
"Half the room seems to believe that you are my servant…guardian of the coffee beans, in effect."
"And the other half?" She was bouncing on the balls of her feet now, swaying slightly.
"Are you quite all right?"
"What," she asked, voice controlled but threatening to break, "does the other half seem to think I am?"
There really was no delicate way to phrase it. "My consort."
There was a moment's pause.
"Ah. That would explain…things."
~
In an amazing feat of engineering, the local Architects Guild had managed to erect a temple overnight. It didn't have grand, soaring archways, or golden halls, but it was quite tall. And skinny. With a strange, disk like bulge on top.
All in all, a most…unique structure.
~
The Second Neophyte and the Third Neophyte glared at each other across the center of the room, their respective followers bristling behind them.
The god and the girl had retired to an upstairs room. This had earned a temporary flux in support for the Consort theory, but they had shortly sent for the Sacred Seeds of the Drink, which seemed to strengthen the Guardian theory.
Currently, both theories were being circulated around the city, adding a little bit of belief with each person who chose sides.
~
"What on the Disc are you wearing?" demanded Ienska as soon as the door closed behind the man who had delivered the coffee beans. Vetinari had seated himself immediately on a throne like chair, which left her standing by a table a few too-short strides away.
The wavering beliefs were playing havoc with Ienska and, she supposed, Vetinari. At the moment, however, she didn't have any thoughts to spare for his mental stability, as hers was in serious jeopardy.
"I'm wearing what these people believe a god of coffee should wear," answered Vetinari. Which, apparently, included the long green robes and a headdress of what, on closer inspection – closer than she would have liked, during a moment when popular opinion was definitely in favor of the Consort – turned out to be yellow feathers. Belief was a very strong, and very powerful, thing. Too bad people didn't seem capable of dealing with it properly.
She glanced over at the large sack in the corner.
One moment, she was ready to die in defense of the coffee beans and in his service, the next she wanted to sit down beside him and…
Oh, this was great.
"Any ideas for escape?" she gasped during a small period where whatever the people in the city were doing seemed to be pretty even.
"Escape? I was not aware of being held prisoner," said Vetinari, sky-blue eyes surveying her. "And I do not think it is your place to question me." Or maybe not so sky-blue.
"Of course not, my lord…" Ienska felt her stomach drop out of her as a new wave of belief washed through the small room. "Do you think it wise to remain here, my lord?" she questioned in tones much sweeter, drawing slightly nearer. No, definitely not sky-blue any more. In fact, a rich, muddy brown was beginning to stain the edges of his irises. A chill ran down her spine. The one thing that a god could never change was his eyes.
Her tunic was shifting lengths, as well, trying to conform to the costume of whichever character she was currently cast as: short and militaristic for the Guardian, long and flowing for the Consort.
"Do not worry, my love…" he broke off. "I really do think," he continued through clenched teeth. "That it would be prudent for us to depart."
Ienska was about to agree when the first sounds of fighting echoed through the open window.
~
The first steel had been drawn by the followers of the Second Neophyte, now calling himself First Soldier of the Guardian, and had left nearly fifteen of their opposition dead or disabled.
After that, it was only a matter of time before the followers of the Third Neophyte, now First Servant of the Consort, retaliated.
For the time, it seemed the Servant was winning.
~
Vetinari was quite thankful when the remaining three Neophytes, numbered First, Fourth, and Fifth, burst into the room. The god of coffee, however, was extremely irate.
"My lord," gasped the First Neophyte, falling to his knees. "The city is in turmoil! There is fighting in the streets…"
"Your followers kill each other," added the Fifth Neophyte, joining the First in kneeling.
"How dare you interrupt me?" demanded the god of coffee, rising to his feet.
"But, my lord," pleaded the First. "You must stop the fighting."
The god of coffee glared at his Neophytes. They had interrupted him with his Consort…they had barged in on his consultations with his Guardian…
Vetinari shook his head, trying to clear it.
"Very well," said the god of coffee, waving a hand. "The wine caskets in the cellar are now filled with the Drink of the Gods." And they were. "Open the caskets, and give the Drink to all. I shall appear before them to settle this dispute in an hour's time."
"Thank you, oh god of the Drink!" chorused all three Neophytes, hastily removing themselves from the presence of the obviously angered god.
"Now, my dear," said the god of coffee, turning to Ienska. "Where were we?"
~
The common room of StellarRears was crowded with Neophytes and the uninitiated neophytes, all awaiting the announcement of the god. All waiting to be proved right. All with mugs full of the Drink.
~
Ienska was all for slipping out the back while the adoring masses waited in the main room. The Guardian and the Consort, however, wouldn't hear of it. Both of them were starting to get on her nerves. For goodness sakes, couldn't the people of this city make up their minds about anything?
She wore a sword, after all. What more evidence did they need for the Guardian? Which, of the two, was her personal preference. So far, she and Vetinari had managed to come to themselves before the god of coffee and Consort had done anything…
The other argument, that they had locked themselves in a room together, did worry her some, however.
"Why, again," she asked Vetinari, "Is this happening?"
"It's all got to do with belief," he said in slightly marshal tones. "Enough belief can change reality." His eyes softened, nearly all brown now and much, much deeper than any human eyes had a right to be. "But you know this, my dear." He reached for her.
Ienska, not quite as deeply caught in the belief yet, backed away.
"And why can't we leave?" she asked.
"They believe my place is here," he said.
"Why, exactly? Don't gods live on Cori Celesti?" Her feet stopped moving her backwards. Where was the Guardian when she needed her?
He shrugged. "It does not matter, it is what is." He rose and stepped nearer to her. "Now, stop being foolish and come here."
To her horror, the foot she lifted to step back began to move forward. No! I am most certainly not anyone's consort! She continued forward, toward his opened arms, long skirt twining around her legs. Doesn't my belief count for anything?
The multiverse screamed back a rather emphatic no as she reached her destination.
***
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