[A/N: Thanks to Fledge, Bookworm Gal, SSC, Mikell, Tolraisgrey for your kind reviews. Yes, Filth is indeed quite a piece of work. Stay tuned to learn what he and the loveable Flasher are up to in their squirmy little heads. And about that styrofoam golem, I have no idea where I come up with this stuff. It just wanders around like something from the dungeon dimensions, waiting for a weak spot to squirm it's way out I suppose. ;-) And now, we return to Mister Stibbons, who has some 'splaining to do.]

37 - Godbothering

Ponder Stibbons reflected on several things. First, he reflected on how easily Archchancellor Ridcully had 'delegated' yet another job title onto his already heavily overworked shoulders.

"You need a flashy title, like Most High Ambassador to the Lofty Realms, or somesuch rot." Ridcully had said.

"But Archchancellor, all I'm really doing is setting up a meeting with your brother, the High Priest of Blind Io. That hardly seems to require-"

"Nonsense! This is an official matter of official business and requires an official visit. My brother and I have a strict policy. I don't go sacrificing first year students to any bloodthirsty gods, and he doesn't… hmm… you know I'm not sure what he would do now that I think about it. But whatever it is, I'm sure he doesn't do it. It's like a demarcation of territories. National boundaries and all that. And nations, Stibbons, do not pop over for a chat about how a rogue wizard or god has, good chap, run a bit amok. No, these things require formal channels.

"Wouldn't it be better coming from you then?"

"Me? Set foot in a temple? I'd never hear the end of it. Hughnon would crow about it for months. And he'd tell our mother about it too."

And thus the Most Lofty Ambassador to the High Realms, or perhaps the other way around, found himself in the offices of one Hughnon Ridcully, Ankh Morpork's High Priest of Blind Io. And this Ridcully was suspicious as hell.

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that you think there is a god, running around the city in human form, blowing up restaurants."

"Something like that, your reverence."

"Don't 'your reverence' me. Mighty Io grants me sight beyond that of mere mortals. I see into your very soul. My godless egomaniac of a brother put you up to this."

Stibbons said nothing, but found himself squirming uncomfortably. Sometimes you don't need divine intervention to tell when someone's guilty as hell.

"Hah, that's what I thought!"

"But it's still true, your reverence." Ponder flailed about. "The thaumic signature is all wrong for a wizard or witch. Look!" He produced several sheets of paper containing the end result of hours of Hex's calculations and analysis for Hughnon's inspection.

There was a lengthy pause as the priest peered suspiciously at the charts and graphs.

"Hmm... I see what you are saying. You know, the use of color here is quite fetching. Ah. What's does this line here signify?"

Ponder's heart sank. "Um, that's the X axis, your reverence."

"X axis. Fascinating. And this one?"

Ponder reflected on the fact that Hughnon Ridcully was, in many ways, very much Archchancellor Ridcully's brother.

"That… would be the Y axis. Your reverence."

"And this one here?"

Ponder flushed. "Ah, that one. One of Hex's pens is a little sticky. We call that a printing artifact."

"A printing artifact. Does it contain a vengeful spirit who will grant you three wishes and then drag your soul to the dungeon dimensions?"

"Er… no your reverence. It's just a smudge on the paper."

"Hmph. Not much of an artifact then, if you ask me." His eyes roamed around the paper some more. "I fail to see what I am supposed to gather from all of this."

"As I was trying to explain, your reverence, this graph shows the thaumic signature profile from a non-mundane event at a restaurant." He flipped to a second sheet. "This graph shows the typical thaumic profile of, for example, the Lecturer in Recent Runes casting a fireball spell." The priest's face showed his distaste, so Ponder hurried to the next one. "And this sheet shows the thaumic profile of a witch performing a rather subtle application of "borrowing".

"Both of which, I hope you understand, are considered abominations by Io." He reconsidered. "Well maybe not abominations as such. But the gods get really touchy when humans start fiddling with the fabric of reality like that."

"I understand, your reverence, but that's the point. He spread the three sheets on Hughnon's desk. As you can see, this one is completely unlike that of a witch or wizard. The closest thing we can match it with, begging your pardon, is a miracle."

Hughnon's eyebrows dropped several inches. Ponder was surprised he could still see. "A. Miracle."

"Yes your reverence."

"Not your kind of hocus pocus mumbo jumbo wave a staff stuff, what hey?

"No your reverence. Clearly not."

There was another pause, and this time, when the priest spoke, there was a hint of uncertainty. "So you are talking about, just as a hypothetical you understand, the kind of miracle where someone might for example, sacrifice a meat pie to mighty Blind Io, who, being most generous and merciful, blows up a restaurant you particularly disliked?"

"It was only one table sir. And everything on it, but yes something like that."

Hughnon cleared his throat. "Mighty Blind God Io does not take well to having the leg of his high priest pulled, young man. I'd stay away from trees, metal poles, and any high places for a few weeks if I were you. And avoid thunderstorms."

Ponder shuddered. "I'm not making this up, sir. And we don't believe it was one of the current gods. We are concerned that a certain woman might be a new god, maybe? Is that possible?" Ponder shook his head. "This is completely outside my realm of expertise, your reverence."

"Hmph. You got that right. Blast you and your ilk, meddling with the forces of the supernatural of which you wot not."

"What not what?"

"No, wot not. As in know not what you wot not of."

At this point, Ponder decided Hughnon was actually worse than his brother. "Look, we're just asking if there is any way you can, I don't know, verify this before the Patrician comes asking us all some very difficult questions."

"The gods are not subject to the whims of mere mortals."

Ponder threw up his hands. "I told the Archchancellor that this was a waste of-"

"However, the gods are also often bored and willing to humor us. I'll see if they feel like being whimsy in this case."

Ponder gaped for a moment. "So… does that mean you are going to ask them?"

"The ways of the gods are mysterious. Meaning that's for me to know and you to wonder about. I'll let you know if I find out anything. Now, if you'd be so kind to take yourself and your unnatural arts from my office, I have paperwork to attend to."

Late in the evening, when all was still and the proper rites had been performed, a ghostly image formed above an altar set on the high priest's desk. An imposing head with strong, Tsortian features marred only by blank eyesockets. Multiple disembodied eyeballs hovered around the noble visage, peering at Hughnon.

It was enough to give one the creeps, really.

"WHO DARES TO DISTURB THE POWERFUL AND VENGEFUL IO? MIGHTIEST OF GODS. UNCONTESTED FIRST AMONG EQUALS." The voice boomed though his head, nearly rattling his teeth loose.

Hughnon really wished Io wouldn't use the boomy voice. He glanced down at his notes. "O Mighty Io, from whom naught may be hidden, I beg your acute insight."

"MANY COME SEEKING THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE GODS, BUT FEW- Waitaminute… Was that supposed to be some sort of pun?"

"Er… which one. Oh mighty Io."

"You said 'acute insight', was that supposed to be a pun? A cutie in sight." Several of the eyeballs peered down at the remains on the alter. "You sacrificed a child's fluffy pink stuffed bunny?"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist."

There was a roll of distant thunder. "You know, I should smite you for that. The regulations clearly say that all appearances are to be accompanied by ritual sacrifice."

"That bunny will never be the same again, mighty one. I'd say it's truly sacrificed. And besides, I got tired of cleaning the bloodstains out of the walnut. You have no idea how hard it is to get it out of the grain."

"My smite-o-meter just went up three more points, puny mortal."

Hughnon sighed. "Look o mighty Io, donations are up three percent and prayers up seven points this year. I think you can forgive a little attempt at levity, don't you?"

Hughnon felt the scrutiny of two score of eyes.

"There is that. But remember mortal, faith is all well and good, but a little respect isn't too much to ask either. I have a status to maintain. The respect of my brethren. I could have had a conference prayer going on, or had someone lingering around the temple listening in. I'd be aeons listening to Offler's sniggering over the fluffy bunny thing. Have you ever heard a crocodile god with a lisp snigger? It sounds like a dragon with asthma trying to run a marathon with a mouthful of crackers."

"Sorry. Next time I'll check first."

Io wasn't done. Half the eyes were staring at each other in contemplating his own personal hell as he muttered, "and The Lady, she wouldn't say a word, she'd just look at me with that damn knowing smile of hers..."

"I'll do better next time, o great one, and I'll include a few meat pies in the sacrifice too. Will that work?"

"Hmph. I suppose I shall be merciful. This time. And I prefer pork pies. And none from that Dibbler mortal, either. Last month Flatulus ate two of those and almost killed us all." Io raised an eyebrow above a blank orbit. "Now, what was it you wanted?"

"Well, great Io, there's this woman that we are a little confused about. The wizards say she's been doing magic and-"

"LeJean. Yeah, she's causing all sorts of havoc."

"You know- ah. Of course you know all about her, O omniscient one."

"And don't you forget it."

"So is it true, o mighty one?"

There was a long pause as all eyes scrutinized Hughnon. "We've been having a bit of a chat about that ourselves. She's been playing hell with The Game. Fate is nearly apoplectic, which would normally be good for much amusement, but this LeJean keeps mucking up the board. It's beginning to grow tiresome, honestly."

"But what is she?"

"Mortals. Always trying to put things in boxes. She's something in between. Not quite a small god, but close perhaps. The Lady thinks she could become one with the right nudge. Not quite a mortal either. Right now, I'd say she's closer to one of those" he sniffed dismissively "personifications[1] that are always loitering about. Have you seen what one of them does to a session of The Game? Might as well just wipe the board and start over."

"A small god? But small gods usually have no physical form, and they're nearly powerless. This one is apparently wandering around Ank Morpork, blowing up restaurants in her spare time."

"Blowing up restaurants? Mortal, that's the least of your worries."

[1] Susan comes to mind. You think The Game is going your way and them BAM here comes Death's granddaughter mucking things up.