Working God's Mischief Read Free

dangerous in the long run.
    That Instrumentality had a fierce hold on Red Hammer. War saw that the mortals were confident. War recognized the scent of god killers.
    Other Instrumentalities bled into other silver glass vessels, most afraid to be hopeful. After an initial burst, they became calm and calculating. But they had been sealed into an inescapable pocket universe, with their dislikes for one another, for subjective ages.
    They ought to be raving mad.
    Heris said something to the Bastard. Renfrow eased over to the bottle farthest left. Meanwhile, the ascendant murmured what sounded like a roll call.
    Each bottle contained multiple Instrumentalities. The pantheon of the Old Ones included numerous lesser deities, some of whom had been swept into Asgrimmur’s trap in his time of madness, following his unexpected ascension.
    Heris said, “We’re short one. Where is the Trickster?”
    Renfrow said, “He won’t come out. He thinks he’ll be blamed for everything.”
    â€œThat would be the history, wouldn’t it?” Whenever anything went wrong for this clutch of Instrumentalities, the Trickster was at the disaster’s root. “But he’s bullshitting this time. What’s he really up to?”
    Asgrimmur opined, “He’s waiting for us to make a mistake. He’ll only need a second to get away.”
    â€œClose the petcocks, Double Great.”
    Chuckling, Cloven Februaren stepped to the farthest right bottle. He turned the handle of a silver valve in the tube connecting the alembic to the wall. He then wrapped the tube from the valve to the wall in silver foil. “One down.”
    The Bastard and ascendant did the same to the alembics on the left while Februaren sealed off the bottle containing Red Hammer and War. Dark fog flooded the tube to that one an instant after Februaren shut the petcock. “He wants to play, now. Should I let him through?”
    Asgrimmur rumbled, “Make him wait. The others will be more pliable if we keep him out of the way.”
    Hecht volunteered, “That sounds good,” though he had no real say. This was his sister’s project, one hundred percent.
    Heris said, “And that’s how we’ll proceed. Stay alert. This has gone the way it should, so far. Let’s not assume that it will keep on.”
    Despite the admonition Hecht did relax. The time of highest risk had passed. The Old Ones had chosen to listen. Hard to stay intensely alert when there was no obvious threat.
    No obvious threat? When these beings were what they were? And the plan was to compel them to serve, as though they were sprites or ifrits?
    Hecht stared at Asgrimmur’s back, wondering. The man was the most alien of his experience, because of what he carried inside him. Yet amongst the personalities gathered here Grimmsson was only slightly outside normal.
    Asgrimmur stepped to the leftmost alembic, flashed a smile at Vali, who kept getting more nervous as everything went well. “These are the gentle ones.” Sweet young female faces formed on the inside of the glass, drifted, distorting. “Eavijne is, anyway. Hourli, so-so. Not so much, Fastthal and Sprenghul.” He set his left hand on the glass. The only hand he had. He had lost the other to a fat old lord of the Grail Empire during an ill-conceived attack back in the time of his madness. Streaks of color, like a network of veins, spread through the nearby glass.
    Hecht called across, “Asgrimmur, get out of Vali’s line of fire.” He hoped Vali would fire regardless. He was not sure she had what that would take. He had no doubts about Lila, though. Lila was hard. Lila would do what needed doing.
    â€œNo call to concern yourself, Commander. These four grasp the situation. They accept our terms.”
    â€œJust like that?”
    â€œJust like that. They are of the Night. They make decisions without agonizing.” A shot at the Commander of the