A/n: Sorry for the long delay! I had writers block, which is why I'm doing
something slightly different with this chapter.
The night was oppressive, smothering Tortall like a heavy velvet cloak, gently pierced in scattered places by glowing fires of starlight. There was no moon. Thousands of eyes, far below, tried in vain to penetrate its darkness. Little did they know that, free of the confines of the world, in the Realm above the sky, things were far from peaceful.
In the elegant Chief Hall of the Pantheon, full of graceful, flowing lines in marble, and really rather clichéd, a loud and painful biting cackle rang out. All heads turned towards the Graveyard Hag, from whose cracked and toothless mouth the sound had issued. The wrinkled old crone had her wizened head thrown back, hysterical with amusement.
"Are you... telling me..." She gasped out, amid fits of mirth, "That not... one of us can... oh, ha ha ha... tell what's going to happen to this, huh, chit of a girl? And we call ourselves... ha... Gods!" The Great Mother Goddess glared down from her imposing throne.
"Silence! You know perfectly well why we can't tell what's going to happen. You were there when Shakith spoke, as we all were. Tell her again, if you please, Shakith."
There was a murmur of interested agreement and heads swung towards Shakith, blind goddess of seers. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Shakith lifted her head.
"Many years ago, there was a great divergence in the Fate of the world. The world we are in now, a I speak, went one way, but there was another way, and at this very moment there is another world which went down a different path back then. You all know how rare this is, and at the request of my friend Gainel-"the two inclined their heads at each other "-I investigated this further. It was centred on this girl of the violet eyes. It seemed the turning event, the fulcrum of the split, if you will, occurred when she went to study with the priestesses of our good Lady mother. I believe that another such split, another divergence, is approaching rapidly. The fate the world is ready to swing-in one direction or the other. And it is, again, centred on the violet eyed girl." Shakith bowed respectfully the Great Mother Goddess, who replied:
"Thank you, Shakith; we are much indebted to you for your diligent study." Then, addressing the pantheon, "I too felt this shift, though I do not know why. I believe that in this other world, I had some connection with this Alanna, for I can think of no other reason. Did anyone else feel it?"
Out of the shadows at the back of the hall, a figure emerged. A voice, deep and full of laughter, declaimed dramatically: "I did." More rustling and the shape became distinguishable as Kyprioth, the trickster god. Mithros frowned in distaste, but the Mother, with a disdainful wave of her hand, motioned the trickster to continue. "One of my Chosen, George Cooper-"
Mithros sat up, glaring, ignoring the Goddess' restraining hand on his arm. "That thief?"
Kyprioth grinned, unperturbed. "That's the one. I felt a huge shift in his fates at the time you spoke of."
The Goddess glared at him. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"You didn't ask." Kyprioth pointed out reasonably.
The Goddess waved an angry hand. "Yes, yes, very good. Very well, we know what is happening. The question is, what do we do about it?"
From her feet, a small black shape unwound itself, lazily, resolving into the shape of the cat faithful. Several minor gods rolled their eyes. That cat always had to have the last word. They were not disappointed.
"What we do," Purred the cat, "Is nothing. The fates will shift; we cannot interfere, so there's no point arguing about it. Now, if nobody has anything else to say, I'm going to have a nap." And that is exactly what he did.
The night was oppressive, smothering Tortall like a heavy velvet cloak, gently pierced in scattered places by glowing fires of starlight. There was no moon. Thousands of eyes, far below, tried in vain to penetrate its darkness. Little did they know that, free of the confines of the world, in the Realm above the sky, things were far from peaceful.
In the elegant Chief Hall of the Pantheon, full of graceful, flowing lines in marble, and really rather clichéd, a loud and painful biting cackle rang out. All heads turned towards the Graveyard Hag, from whose cracked and toothless mouth the sound had issued. The wrinkled old crone had her wizened head thrown back, hysterical with amusement.
"Are you... telling me..." She gasped out, amid fits of mirth, "That not... one of us can... oh, ha ha ha... tell what's going to happen to this, huh, chit of a girl? And we call ourselves... ha... Gods!" The Great Mother Goddess glared down from her imposing throne.
"Silence! You know perfectly well why we can't tell what's going to happen. You were there when Shakith spoke, as we all were. Tell her again, if you please, Shakith."
There was a murmur of interested agreement and heads swung towards Shakith, blind goddess of seers. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Shakith lifted her head.
"Many years ago, there was a great divergence in the Fate of the world. The world we are in now, a I speak, went one way, but there was another way, and at this very moment there is another world which went down a different path back then. You all know how rare this is, and at the request of my friend Gainel-"the two inclined their heads at each other "-I investigated this further. It was centred on this girl of the violet eyes. It seemed the turning event, the fulcrum of the split, if you will, occurred when she went to study with the priestesses of our good Lady mother. I believe that another such split, another divergence, is approaching rapidly. The fate the world is ready to swing-in one direction or the other. And it is, again, centred on the violet eyed girl." Shakith bowed respectfully the Great Mother Goddess, who replied:
"Thank you, Shakith; we are much indebted to you for your diligent study." Then, addressing the pantheon, "I too felt this shift, though I do not know why. I believe that in this other world, I had some connection with this Alanna, for I can think of no other reason. Did anyone else feel it?"
Out of the shadows at the back of the hall, a figure emerged. A voice, deep and full of laughter, declaimed dramatically: "I did." More rustling and the shape became distinguishable as Kyprioth, the trickster god. Mithros frowned in distaste, but the Mother, with a disdainful wave of her hand, motioned the trickster to continue. "One of my Chosen, George Cooper-"
Mithros sat up, glaring, ignoring the Goddess' restraining hand on his arm. "That thief?"
Kyprioth grinned, unperturbed. "That's the one. I felt a huge shift in his fates at the time you spoke of."
The Goddess glared at him. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"You didn't ask." Kyprioth pointed out reasonably.
The Goddess waved an angry hand. "Yes, yes, very good. Very well, we know what is happening. The question is, what do we do about it?"
From her feet, a small black shape unwound itself, lazily, resolving into the shape of the cat faithful. Several minor gods rolled their eyes. That cat always had to have the last word. They were not disappointed.
"What we do," Purred the cat, "Is nothing. The fates will shift; we cannot interfere, so there's no point arguing about it. Now, if nobody has anything else to say, I'm going to have a nap." And that is exactly what he did.
