Chapter the Fourteenth, in Which We Might Ask 'Will the Real Mr Cutter Please Stand Up ?
It took a while for this chapter took come to me, then the Pantheon and Dr Hix and certain agents of chaos began clamouring for attention. It also seemed fair to see Hoki the Jokester exercising his pranking muscles again. And surely only a god could get away with that scam...
Om's accident had been noticed by his colleagues but by and large they weren't inclined to break off from the fun they were having. (1) Two of them were more concerned though, both of them through variations on enlightened self interest.
Blind Io knew Om was a survivor and likely to blame Him should nothing be done about the situation. He didn't want another broken nose. (2) Hoki was thinking he could make use of a certain resemblance here.
Hmm, adjust the horns, need antlers, goat won't carry off the Look.
A heavier brow to shadow the eyes. (3)
Mustn't forget the 'meat - and – two – veg.'
I'm still a bit whiffy, that'll do...
A voice interrupted his train of thought as he completed the adjustments.
'Goat Boy, stop playing with yourself and do something about Om !'
Hoki reflected that Blind Io's manners could still do with some work but decided to let it pass. He had the makings of a king sized prank going. Right here. Right now.
'I'm on it sir !' (4)
It had dawned on Om that, god or not, manifesting physically in the heart of an active battle was not a good idea.
Oh Brutha, I'm not even appropriately dressed. (5)
As it happened, Om chose the rig that would fit into the situation better than somebody who didn't know him might expect. He was good at selecting the right look for the right party after all.
Suddenly the man in evening clothes became a flannel – shirted, corduroy – trousered lumberjack.
Holding a big iron – headed felling axe.
Instincts that must have been instilled by his warlike early believers kicked in. (6) He began to smite befeathered unbelievers with the axe and found that he was enjoying this.
Perhaps he would stop considering the brawling of Valhalla's heroes beneath him and join in the sport from time to time.
He became aware of an antlered and goat – legged man standing next to him. There was no mistaking the newcomer's masculinity. (7) There was a loud call.
'Elves ! Stand down !'
For now, it worked, Elves backed away from lumberjacks and armoured men, who themselves took the opportunity to take a rest and regroup.
'Does everybody here know who I am ?'
It was still working. You chose your moment, cast people's attention in the direction you knew it was likely to go and they believed all of their own accord. (7a) That belief could be directed. Now if only he and Om could explain themselves and get away without being rumbled they would avoid losing believers to Gnosis. (9)
There were murmurs of assent. Everyone who knew about the Gentry, Lords and Ladies, Alfar orwere even bold enough to say 'Elves' were familiar with the image.
Hoki and Om sensed two men who did not seem to be buying it. Their faith didn't seem to be shaken by what they were seeing though. (10) It seemed unlikely that these two would be lost to Gnosticism. One of the priests called out.
'To what do we owe the appearance of the Faerie King ?'
Good. He might not buy it, but he was willing to go along with it. A sensible priest would seek to calm things down if at all possible.
The lightning had stopped for now. The Pantheon were agog to see what would happen next.
'There is a man working with me who should not be here. I would move him to safety as there is much we need to learn from each other.'
Credible sounding reasons. And true as far as they went. Sometimes the key to misdirection is telling the truth. How you say it and revealing just enough are also important. It looked like Hoki was going to get away with a huge con here.
In the background something was building. Around the remains of Mr Cutter's body, shadows that couldn't quite be seen except in the corner of the eye were gathering. What then happened would have been eye watering had anyone been watching.
Hickory Cutter stood up, albeit minus a shirt.
The shadows scattered to where body parts had been distributed.
A lot of Hickory Cutters were suddenly present. Somewhat deficient in the wardrobe department.
Hoki tried to keep control of the situation.
'Impressive Doctor Hix. (11) What do you intend to do with your undead army ?'
John Hix had not expected this. It was evident that the discarnate spirits had possessed the scattered remains.
But only a god could imbue life.
It had to be Sweevo, and there was a humanoid lumberjack figure standing with the King's avatar. (12) The wizard made an assumption.
'They would be of great use should this truce not hold. I am sure Lord Sweevo knows this.'
Things were getting tense. The newly re – embodied spirits were getting themselves accustomed to freshly minted bodies. There was a certain flexing of muscles and glowering at Elves. They were neither clothed nor armed, but the tissue they had possessed had been splashed with homoeopathically enhanced coffee. Glamour would not work on them and their ire had not been assuaged. And the Elves martial skill was not great.
Then things went to pot again with a loud war cry of a sort everyone feared.
'Oor King ! Oor quin ! Oor laird ! Cloon Prince Wa Hey !' (12a)
The Feegles were coming. (14)
(1)And the Elves are considered anti – social...
(2)See Sir Terry's Small Gods for how this happened.
(3)None of the Pantheon can disguise their eyes.
(4)He'd be less fortunate than the hedgehog if he was going to say 'sire.'
(5)It says much of a prophet that his god thinks of him when in trouble. Small Gods again for why.
(6)You do remember what I said earlier about what Omnianism used to be like ?
(7)See Sir Terry's The Shepherd's Crown for why this would be so.
(7a)I did say the Klatchian coffee was wearing off.
(9)Plug time. See my story The Clown and the Assassins.
(10)Some minds build faith by empirical study. Nutt and Oats answer this description.
(11)He was guessing, but he knew the wizard was 'not a necromancer at all.'
(12)Dr Hix wasn't buying it either, but wizards don't believe in gods anyway.
(12a)For why Verence is King of the Long Lake Clan, see Sir Terry's Carpe Jugulum.
(14)To paraphrase Captain Jack Sparrow, sorry mates, couldn't resist...