Chapter 2 - The Fickle Finger
In the midst of the hustle and bustle of the Disc, there is a tense silence.
In a white marble hall, a dozen or so persons are gathered around an equally white marble table. White marble benches are scattered here and there, though no one is using them. White marble plinths[1] hold white marble vases or white marble busts.
Had this been roundworld, there would be numerous documentaries about the eccentric trillionaire who had more money than wits and built an entire mansion out of butter, before he woke up one day convinced he was a giant ear of corn and tragically ate himself to death.
However this is the Discworld. Instead of money, it is Faith that is the coin these persons possess. And while they have sense enough not to build their domain out of a food substance, there is a similar tinge of insanity in building an entire realm out of a decorative rock that shows every little smudge. What, one wonders, will happen if one day they wake up and decide they are a hammer and chisel?
Regardless, our aforementioned persons are not sitting and enjoying the architecture, but instead leaning in around the Game table with various expressions of frustration, amusement, concern, disappointment, or affected boredom.
On the table stand various figures. Mere mortals, even the most astute and bloodthirsty politician, would have a difficult time understanding how the figures placement represented their interactions in the world of men.[2] Some pieces, like the severe-looking young female figurine with a streak of black in her hair and holding a cast-iron bar, were not only unwilling participants, but actively resisted being someone else's pawn. Only the mightiest of the gods at the table dared try to bend The Governess to their will. Usually they just tried to play around her or, failing that, pretended she wasn't on the board and hoped their prize piece wouldn't get brained by The Poker[3] at some point. Anoia, Goddess of Things Stuck Drawers, actually suggested at one point it be given its own piece on the board. It was not a popular suggestion. No one in the group liked the thought of The Poker running about on its own, smiting things. It might end up being worshipped and next thing you know it would be hanging out in their favorite pub.
Other Game pieces, of varying power and usefulness, were unwitting but malleable tools in the Great Game. For example, the broad-shouldered watchman piece with a transparent crown on his head had figured into many a pleasant evening, but the Crowned Watchman had to be used with care lest it upset the balance of the competition.
The Lady tended to favor the watchman, and often used him to devastating effect.
As with many instances of the Game, many of the lesser gods had found themselves outmaneuvered, neutralized, or worst case, their pieces eliminated or coopted as the Game wore on. When your only piece on the board is a colony of educated rats, it's kind of tough to compete with the big boys controlling entire armies.
In the end, sessions of the Game often came down to a standoff between The Lady, Fate, and a handful of the other more powerful gods.
And there were the newer pieces on the board. The Baker, who started out a minor piece controlled by Levandus, the God of Yeast and Other Things That Swell When Heated[4], changed hands several times, passing through the ownership of Errata the Goddess of Misunderstandings and a handful of other minor gods. In the end, it appeared that the Baker was playing a key role in this session of the Game.
And then there was the newest piece of all. The Grey Lady sat in the middle of the board, and Fate glared at it like a bit of dog mess left in the middle of the room. He had maneuvered it carefully through the early game, and all had gone according to plan, until it had come into contact with the Baker, and then everything had gone to the Dungeon Dimensions on him. Now he wasn't sure whether he even controlled the piece any more.
The Grey Lady shouldn't even exist at this point. Even worse, it was not only taking all the fun out of the Game, now he could see that it had distorted the entire board like a heavy weight placed on a rubber sheet.[5] Fiddling with reality was supposed to be their gig. Twice now, he had felt himself cheated, and turned his displeasure on the Baker, and thence to Errata.
"You are taking liberties, Errata. I am surprised after that business with Tsort, that you are so willing to extend your hand."
"I? There must be some misunderstanding." She smiled as he winced. "I lost control of that piece not long after The Governess re-entered the Game." She turned up the corner of her mouth further and raised an eyebrow at The Lady.
The Lady looked smug, but shook her head. "Do not look to me. I have been able to have some minor influence perhaps, but I lay no claim to ownership of that one." While she was always happy to see Fate get a bit of comeuppance, she had no interest in claiming credit for the work of others.
"Then who dares? Twice now. Twice the Baker has been used to delay the Grey Lady's removal from the board, and now that piece is distorting the Game itself."
"You know it, baby," came from the back of the group.
Fate's anger ratcheted up a few degrees and he directed it in the direction of the voice. "What?! Who was that?"
Several of the higher status gods moved aside, revealing the speaker to Fate's ire. The recipient of his glare turned on an oblivious five-thousand-watt smile and subtly shifted to show off his best side.
Fate sighed, his anger dissipating despite himself. "Seriously Rod, don't you have some teenagers to torment? Perhaps a Music-with-Rocks-In concert to hang out backstage at, or some puppy eyes to practice?
The God of Infatuation's smile faltered for a moment, then came back with full force. "Come on man, lighten up. Just having a little harmless crush, right?"
"A little harmless crush!? Did you not sense the ripples? First these upstart Auditors attempt to stop time, halting all worship in the process..." that caused the entire pantheon to wince, save perhaps for The Lady "…which threw us all into a sort of stasis for several hours, and now this." He swept the room with his right arm. "We all felt the backlash from the event in the cemetery. That piece is now a liability to the Game, thanks to your 'harmless crush'. Why don't you try using your head for once instead of your hormones?"
"Sorry man, gotta follow your feelings you know. My head said stay out of it, but my heart said go with what feels good right now." He brightened further. "Did you see how the Grey Lady reacted to the Crowned Watchman? That was a thing of beauty. She was stumbling toward him like a lovesick groupie!"
Fate regarded Rod soberly. Gods did not generally go for such gestures as 'facepalm', but he suddenly understood the allure. The God of Infatuation loved to meddle in the Great Game, but could never stay focused on one goal or a given piece for more than a few hours at a time. As a result, you could usually just ignore his pieces as they self-destructed dramatically. Except this time when it seemed he had gotten luc-
Of course. Fate sighed again and turned to The Lady.
"So, some small influence, you said?" The Lady smiled enigmatically, and his mouth tightened. "It is to be that kind of game is it? Fine." Perhaps, he mused, it is time to bring out a more reliable weapon. Gesturing to the board, a new piece materialized near the center of the board. The Injured Lord was his most reliably powerful piece, one that could always be counted upon to follow his will.
"Perhaps it is time the Grey Lady learns what happens with one tries to join noble society without true noble blood."
[1] A plinth is like a small column, used for a display stand, but with more saliva (especially when Offler says it).
[2] We are using the word "men" very loosely here, and in fact it includes men, women, people of indeterminate gender, people who haven't figured out their gender, trolls, dwarves, werewolves, vampires, igors, pictsies, and a practically infinite number of various one-offs. (Including Mrs. Cake. Don't ask.)
[3] That damned thing was potent enough to deserve capitalization.
[4] Oddly enough, also a very popular god with newlyweds…
[5] Why one would place a heavy weight on a rubber sheet, much less why one would have a rubber sheet, is not a matter we wish to dwell on.